Another Story

Chapter Eight

In which Severus goes to another meeting

Severus had been plagued with a peculiar and heightened feeling of dread and forbidding all afternoon, since the end of his last class of the day when Crabbe and Goyle had given him an unusual deferential nod on their way out, as though they knew somehow that something was going to happen. Perhaps, he thought, their fathers had given them instructions. Severus was almost certain that they were full fledged Death Eaters, initiated either when he had been indisposed, or in the demon realm, or in secret with only Voldemort and their fathers present. He wished that Dumbledore would find a pretext for expelling or even turning them over to the Ministry of Magic, which was unlikely given current relations between the school and the Ministry.

It was half an hour before dinner when the summons came in the form of a painful burning of the Dark Mark on his left arm. Severus found some satisfaction in the fact that it did not catch him by surprise. He merely waited for the discomfort to subside and began gathering the things that he needed. He examined the book Dumbledore had given him, a copy of an ancient text on the demon world that was of no use to Voldemort or his sinister plans, for a second time before tucking it under his arm. Then he reached into his pocket and made certain that the port key Hermione had made for him was there. The cold metal brushed his fingertips and for a moment he felt just a little less afraid. Then he remembered where he was going.

As he stepped toward the door, Severus' eyes drifted toward the clock and he realized that if Hermione did not see him at dinner, she would be worried. He summoned a piece of parchment and a quill to leave her a note. He smiled grimly at what he was about to do. He was leaving his beloved a note as though he were simply going to the grocer's or down to the pub in Hogsmeade and not to ... well, some things were best not dwelt upon.

"Dear Hermione, I have gone out for the evening. I trust I need not say where. No matter what happens, remember that I love you and - here he hesitated - always will. Please study for your Newts tonight and don't wait up for me. Yours, Severus."

He sealed the parchment with a simple spell and left it on the table by the sofa, knowing that Hermione would find it when she came to look for him. Severus smiled sadly at that thought and left his rooms to walk to the best place from which to Apparate, which given the time of day was the road to Hogsmeade just outside the school entrance.

~

Severus' private chambers seemed cold and empty when Hermione stepped out of the floo. She just knew that he had gone. But she thrust aside the horrible feeling that he wasn't coming back and sat down heavily on the couch before starting a fire in the hearth. It always seemed to be too cold in the dungeons in general and in Severus' rooms in particular. He had once commented that he liked the cold and had summoned a blanket for her instead of lighting a fire in the hearth, which he only put to use in the coldest days of winter.

Harry had known without asking where she was going when she left dinner early, and Hermione fancied that she saw Ron look either a little disgusted or angry as she left. He still wasn't speaking to her, but Harry had advised her to give him a little more time to adjust and sort out his feelings. Hermione chuckled and wondered when Harry had become so sensitive or how. She suspected that it had something to do with Remus Lupin, whom she knew was a constant source of advice for Harry, and with someone who had been lost during that first battle.

"Gone, but not forgotten," she murmured, watching the fire crackle magically in the hearth before closing her eyes and allowing the memories to sweep over her.

"Sirius!" she heard Harry scream as the two of them dragged Neville toward the castle doors.

Hermione looked over her shoulder and saw Snuffles dart after something that looking like a small gray-black shadow in the smoke and disarray before entrance of Hogwarts and amid the battlefield. Harry had nearly dropped Neville.

"Must get him to Madam Pomfrey!" Hermione reminded Harry, looking at their pale companion who had been subjected to the Cruciatus curse and, perhaps mercifully, a stunning spell. They were all only sixteen and too young to be experiencing what was happening around them.

Robed figures in masks hovered the edge of her field of vision. Dumbledore and Remus Lupin were holding them back along with Professor Sinistra. The other professors were near the Dark Forest with Hagrid, fighting their own battles there. Students were everywhere, mostly sixth and seventh years who could not be held back.

Hermione watched Sirius in Animagus form disappeared into the fog produced by dozens of different spells, some blasting spells, some fire spells stronger than Incendio, not knowing then that it would be the last time that Harry saw his godfather alive ever again.

But at least Sirius had managed to kill Pettigrew.

Hermione shivered as she remembered that day. She had not returned to the battlefield, choosing instead to remain in the hospital wing to help care for the wounded. Madam Pomfrey had needed all the assistance she could get. But Hermione had always wished that she could have been there with Harry later when he finally caught up to his godfather, when he had found him.

"Who will we lose this time?" she wondered as she glanced toward Severus' bedroom.

After a moment her eyes came to rest upon the end table at her elbow and she noticed a sealed scroll laying there. She lifted it and felt the magic in it come to life, unrolling the parchment for her, its rightful recipient. Her heart pounded as she realized that Severus had left the note for her.

She read the hastily written, but nonetheless heartfelt words that had been penned there and rolled the scroll up again. She was torn between tears and laughter as she returned the parchment to its place on the table.

"Study for my Newts? While you're out there ... going through Merlin knows what? Severus, you should know me better than that," she whispered, shaking her head.

She had not been neglecting her studies, but she wasn't about to return to the Tower without seeing him and knowing the he was all right. She wondered if he would be and felt her breath hitch slightly.

"He has to be," she told herself, trying to keep all of her worries and her fear at bay. "There's no reason that he shouldn't be. Severus is clever and knows about these things, and he has the port key that I made for him. No reason he shouldn't be able to pull off his ruse tonight and come out of it no worse than usual."

And with that last thought she grimaced, remembering what the ‘usual' entailed and decided whether Severus wanted her to wait or not was immaterial. She was going to stay put until he returned, even if it meant waiting for him all night.

~

When Severus apparated, he found himself standing on a windswept moor that was just turning from winter brown to the soft gray-green of spring. It was not an especially cheering sight. He had half expected to find himself, after touching the Mark, outside the familiar dungeon where Lord Voldemort normally assembled his followers. It was not a good sign that Voldemort had chosen to conduct this meeting elsewhere.

Severus turned when he heard quiet voices behind him. Several Death Eaters were placing additional wards upon the location. He caught a word of an incantation on the breeze: anti- appareo. The spell was an anti-apparition ward upon the stone circle around which several of the Death Eaters stood. They were preparing a space within which to torture him securely. Severus was not surprised. The idea made him want to leave, to run away, but he knew he could not do that just yet.

As one of the masked and robed figures completed his portion of the wards, he left the circular area and walked toward Severus, who was certain that it was Lucius Malfoy who came to greet him.

"You came," the Death Eater said with a note of unpleasant surprise in his voice.

Whether it was his manner of dress or posture that gave him away so easily to all of them, Severus could not say. He had often been instructed to remove his mask in their midst, stripped of his anonymity because it pleased the Dark Lord to make him more vulnerable than the rest. Perhaps because of his suspected betrayal back during the last years of Voldemort's reign.

"Of course," said Severus, adjusting the book under his arm.

"Our lord awaits you then," he said, gesturing toward the hideous form of a man in black robes who sat lounging upon one of the stones and watching his followers preparing the wards or standing impassively in the gaps between the hunks of stone.

Voldemort seemed to smile, and it was an ugly and unwholesome grin, as they stepped into the circle and approached him, with Malfoy walking behind Severus. Why Malfoy thought that Severus would flee then, he could not even fathom.

"I have found something for you, my lord," said Severus, keeping his tone even and neutral through many years of practice.

He held out the magically copied book to Voldemort, who accepted it without a word. Severus did not look around, but he could sense the other Death Eaters filling in the circle, closing it in while they awaited the pronouncement of his fate. He merely watched as Voldemort flipped through the text. His expression could not be interpreted. Time seemed to grind to a halt as the Dark Lord examined his gift. There was always a chance ...

Then Voldemort closed the book again and looked up at Severus with his eerie red eyes and asked, "This was the best you could do, Severus?"

"Yes, my lord," he replied, clenching his hands at his side to steel his nerves. He wanted to reach into his pocket, but knew the moment was inopportune. Voldemort or Malfoy would have had him on his knees in an instant if he even seemed to be reaching for his wand.

"I thought we had an understanding. Krohn's notes, Severus. Where are they?" asked Lord Voldemort.

"There were none," he replied.

"All of my servants were disloyal to a degree in my absence, but none have been stupid enough to be disobedient since my return. I thought better of you, Severus," said Voldemort before turning toward Malfoy and saying, "You know my intentions regarding Severus and my instructions for this eventuality. Carry them out."

The stunning spell was spoken before Severus could speak or react.

The darkness and forgetfulness were brief. The whisper of a spell, Ennervate, echoed softly through his mind as he opened his eyes. He was lying upon his back beneath the overcast and dismal sky in the middle of the circle. Someone had removed his mask and thrown back his hood. He knew instinctively that the sport was about to begin. He turned his head to the side and saw Voldemort upon his perch, fingering his wand almost idly and smirking slightly. What did he have in mind? The other Death Eaters had their wands raised. Severus took a deep breath as the one to Voldemort's left lowered his wand into position. He scarcely had time to steel himself.

"Crucio!"

The spell was unleashed with tremendous force, unregulated and unpracticed. It was by the hand of a novice that he was being tortured. It had none of the Dark Lord's flair and consistency nor any of his chief lieutenant's subtlety or hidden strength. Perhaps it was Goyle who cast the spell. Not, of course, that Severus could mull over such things as his body convulsed unwillingly in pain. His only thought was to find the pocket wherein he had stashed the pocket watch port key, his only means of escape.

"Next," said the languid voice of Voldemort as the Cruciatus curse began to dissipate.

"Crucio!" someone spoke in a dull voice.

If the first had been Goyle, then this was Crabbe. Severus choked back a cry at the heavy-handed application of the unforgivable curse. One would suspect that the caster of the curse was having very little fun with it. Almost as though they were bored and merely passing the time.

But Severus' hand would not obey him. The pain was too much to retain such precise control over his body movements. He could not get his involuntarily clenched hand into his robes. Panic was beginning to overwhelm his mind already. He willed himself to remain disciplined, but in the face of such agony it was like trying to halt a moving train by standing in its path.

"Next," ordered Voldemort, his voice having a vaguely amused tone to it.

"Yes, this would amuse him," thought Severus, reaching for his pocket as he gasped for breath, single-minded in his determination to get to the port key.

"Crucio!" spoke the familiar voice of his old school friend, Lucius Malfoy.

This sensation was not unfamiliar. Severus gritted his teeth together and cursed his own weakness as he trembled in silent anguish that was slow to diminish or fade. Lucius could control the curse for maximum effectiveness that was second only to Lord Voldemort himself. For the briefest instant his consciousness fluttered, almost leaving him, but not quite. Lucius had called the kind of pain that he could produce exquisite. Perhaps this was the sensation he meant.

"Perhaps if you cried out, dear Severus, the pain would lessen," said a soft purring voice, in which he detected only the barest hint of strain.

Severus vowed silently not to give Malfoy the satisfaction even as his control began to slip. Something was beginning to tug at the edge of his intellect already.

"Madness?" he wondered silently, twisting upon the cold ground as he struggled against the curse to no good effect.

"Next," Severus heard sometime later. There was approval in that voice.

"Crucio!" spoke a voice that he could not quite place.

His mind was beginning to slip. He was almost certain that he could not escape. All of her work on his behalf had been in vain. All for nothing. He would never see her again. Nor ever touch her again.

Severus cried out not in pain, but in grief and frustration.

And in response he heard only laughter.

~

Harry looked up from his Defense Against the Dark Arts text and closed his eyes as his scar began to hurt. He touched it and winced as the pain spread. Something was not right. Voldemort was doing something incredibly foul to someone. He forced his eyes open as he felt a hand on his arm.

"All right there, mate?" asked Ron nervously.

"My scar is hurting again," Harry muttered, closing his book.

"Never a good sign," Ron remarked, growing a touch pale at the thought of what You-Know-Who might be doing. Muggle torture? Attacking innocent people somewhere? "You want to see Madam Pomfrey? Tell the headmaster?" he asked Harry.

"I ... I think I know what this is about," said Harry after a moment as he remembered that Snape had not been at dinner and realized that Hermione had not returned to the common room or the dormitories. His hands trembled slightly as he thought, "He's gone them, and they're killing him right now."

"You do?" questioned Ron.

"Yeah, and I think I should see Professor McGonagall," said Harry, leaving his seat and still clutching at his scar.

Ron considered the statement for a moment before he said, "So it's about Snape then."

He could put two and two together as well as anyone. And he didn't like it. The potions' master was hardly Harry's responsibility. He had enough things to be worried about without that greasy git being one of them

Harry just nodded and walked across the common room to the portrait hole and left. He had no intention of telling Professor McGonagall what was happening, but Hermione ... He had to see Hermione, if only to make sure that she was all right. His scar throbbed as he trudged down the stairs. Whatever was being done to the potions' professor, it was surely horrible.

Hermione was sleeping on the couch, having dozed off as her anxiety began to fade and her exhaustion began catching up with her. She had not been sleeping well lately because of the time she spent on her research and because of worrying day and night about the war and about Severus. She awakened suddenly as Harry stepped out of the floo, unscathed by the magical fire that was burning low in the hearth.

"Harry? How did you get down here?" questioned Hermione with a yawn.

"I told Professor McGonagall that I needed help with our Charms' homework. She told me to be quick about it," said Harry, brushing off his robes and joining her on the sofa. He winced as his scar started throbbing again. "But that isn't why I'm really here," he added.

"What is it, Harry?" she asked, sensing that something was wrong.

"Where is Snape tonight?" he questioned.

"He's out," said Hermione. Her voice quavered just enough to let him know where.

"I think he's in danger. My scar .. you see ... and I just have this bad feeling about him," Harry tried to explain, shuddering at the same time.

"The Cruciatus curse?" she asked, taking a deep breath and recognizing the expression on his face.

"I ... I wish I could say, but answers like that don't come for the asking," he replied, touching the scar again. It felt almost hot under his fingertips. "It's done this before ... when Snape's been out of the castle, but never this bad," Harry told her.

"Then that must be it," she said, looking down and sighing.

"He'll be all right," said Harry, putting a comforting hand on her shoulder.

"We can only hope."

"Yes, we can," Harry agreed, trying to put confidence into his words for her sake.

"You should probably go see Madam Pomfrey. It must feel awful," she said.

"I'll live," Harry managed to chuckle. "Do you want to come with me? Maybe get something for your nerves?"

"No, but thanks. I really should stay here. For when he comes back," she said, trying to sound as confident and optimistic as Harry, but failing.

"I hope he appreciates you," said Harry, standing and stepping back toward the floo.

"He does," she said with a soft smile.

"Good," nodded Harry. He contemplated talking to her about Ron, but knew that her mind was elsewhere, on other things. "See you in the morning then?" he questioned.

"Probably," she replied as he took some floo powder from the jar on the mantel and disappeared.

~

Severus no longer knew what was going on around him. Who were these men who were hurting him? Why was he here? Where was here? He only knew pain and fear and that there was something of vital importance in the pocket of his robes. His thoughts were jumbled and words escaped his lips between his screams that he did not understand. Nothing made any sense. There was only the inescapable agony and the taste of blood in his mouth from where he had bitten his tongue. And the feeling that there was something secret in his pocket that could stop all of it, that could make everything right again, that could stop this. But everything else was a mish-mash of images and impulses that he could not comprehend in the least.

Then, and it was growing dark, for the sun was setting behind the dark clouds overhead, the pain ceased. Or rather, the sharpest of its biting teeth grew dull. Severus collapsed to the ground, gasping for breath and moaning as his ribs began to sing in pain.

"I suppose we have all had our fun," said an amused and satisfied voice.

He did not know to whom it belonged, but he hated that voice more than the pain and the confusion. More than anything. He closed his eyes against the sound of it.

Then Severus remembered the elusive thing in his pocket and began slowly moving his hand into his robes, hoping that it would go unnoticed. His long fingers were not so dexterous as they once were, but he was finally making progress.

"Malfoy, do you wish the honor of ending your friend's suffering?" the voice asked.

"No, my lord, we all know that he is yours," came a hasty answer. No one was bold enough to lay claim to the Dark Lord's prey. No one was so foolish.

Panic swept through Severus as he groped blindly for the talisman that would save him. Soft words on the wind reached his ears just as his hand closed around something cold and metallic.

"Avada ..."

There was an unpleasant pulling sensation that left his body awash in renewed agony, but it was over in only a moment ...