Mist and Vapors

"Welcome to your humble abode," he said mockingly as he walked around Snape's motionless body. "But first things first." He felt up the Potion master's sleeves and deftly removed his wand. Then he walked over to Hannah and gave a mocking bow. "Yours please, M'lady?"

Hannah just looked at him, eyes filled with hate.

"Not going to cooperate, are you? Tsk, tsk, we can't have that."

He walked over and ran his hands over her arms, shoulders, and body. He seemed to take a lot longer than was necessary. Eyes narrowed, teeth clenched, Hannah submitted to his exploration. It wasn't as if she had much of a choice here. She could still feel the wand tip against her neck.

Not meeting with success, Pettigrew wrenched her bag out of her grip. "Let's try in here then, shall we? My word -- do you carry all your possessions with you at all times? How do you expect to find anything in here?" He had opened the purse and with eyebrows drawn together looked down at the jumble of books, knitting, biscuit tin, and assorted other flotsam and jetsam. "I don't have time for this."

With an exasperated expression, he simply turned the bag upside down and unceremoniously dumped the entire content out on the floor. "Well, why couldn't you have just said so in the first place," he grumbled as he picked the wand out from among the pile of her personal belongings and pocketed it. "Now we can get on with business."

He grinned. "May I introduce myself? Peter Pettigrew, at your service. And I have the quite unexpected pleasure of talking to...?"

In response, her mouth closed in an even tighter line.

Peter's eyes narrowed. "Playing hard to get, are you? Oh, I will get you talking, you can bet on that. - But first, should we reanimate our dear Severus here? We wouldn't want him to miss all the fun. A minor precaution, though..." He walked over, and within seconds, Severus' hands were tied together behind his back. "There, that will do nicely - Finite Incantatem."

The Potions master turned around slowly until he faced his adversary. Peter, grinning cheerfully, twirled Snape's wand around the fingers of one hand, still keeping his own wand firmly leveled at the bound man.

"Pettigrew." Snape's voice sounded like liquid hate. "How very much like you. You never were one to fight fair, were you?"

"Severus - or should I call you Snivellus? I did so like calling you that! - it seems to me you might want to watch what you say. Seeing as all the cards seem to be in my favor, don't you agree?"

"What do you want?"

Peter shook his head regretfully. "Haven't you been paying attention? I have told you often enough over the last few months, haven't I? Didn't you get my notes? The one I sent by way of dear Remus should have been clear enough, traitor."

The lines on Severus' face deepened as his expression grew harder. "I repeat, Pettigrew, what do you want?"

"You, of course. My, aren't we being obtuse."

"So do what you have to. But let her go." He pointed towards Hannah with his chin. "She has no business in all this."

"But you see, that she is here at all indicates that she is your business. And that makes her my business." He looked towards Severus' mother. "Saeran, did he say anything to you when they arrived?"

"He said, 'I brought a friend'," she answered respectfully.

"A friend, hm? I didn't know you had any of those, Snivellus. Well, there is a first time for everything. How very nice for you..."

He whirled around, then. Beady eyes, staring. A wand, pointing. "Crucio." And then there was nothing but the pain, white-hot, exploding, every synapse miss-firing. Hannah fell to the ground as muscles seized and spasmed. The pain continued, expanding, rising, uncontainable, every fiber of her being screaming for it to end.

Then, for just a moment, release, relief, as Pettigrew had to turn his wand towards Severus, who had lunged forward, heedless of his unarmed state. A word, a beam of light, a thud, a body hitting the ground. And then, the return of the pain. An endless minute, then two. There came a moment when Hannah wondered, almost disconnectedly, who the woman was who was screaming, before the fire engulfed her again. Agony. It seemed to have existed forever, timeless, exquisite. And then just as sudden, it was gone again, leaving her panting and moaning on the ground. It took a few seconds for the ringing in her ears to clear enough to hear voices talking.

"...just like you, Pettigrew. Always was your game, was it not? Picking on those who are weaker than you. Didn't have the guts to take on anyone who could defend himself. Pitiful excuse for a wizard, you are." Severus had risen on his knees. His face was a sneering mask as his words rained derision. "You think Voldemort would have kept you around once you had outgrown your usefulness? He knew better, Wormtail, than to do that. You would have been sent back to the rat hole you came from. If he let you live, that is. Which I doubt."

Pettigrew had turned from Hannah towards Severus. "You shouldn't speak the Dark Lord's name like that. You shouldn't speak like that at all." He paced back and forth agitatedly.

"Why not, Rat? He is dead. Gone. And he isn't coming back. Might as well face it, Wormtail."

No, Hannah thought wildly, shaking and shivering on the floor. Don't do that. Don't. I know exactly what you are doing.

.-.-.-.

Severus didn't dare look at her. He needed to keep Pettigrew's attention, keep it away from Hannah. Her screams were still ringing through his head. "Well, Pettigrew? Cat got your tongue?"

The balding, paunchy wizard was struggling to keep composure. "You just wait, Severus. Just wait. Do you know what I have planned for you?" He smiled a shivery, demented smile. "I'm going to have some fun with you first. And then I am going to alert the Aurors. Or more precisely, I will have your mother call the Ministry and have you arrested. Another trial, Severus, because you enjoy those so much. And then, it will be the Dementors for you. Your soul sucked out, worse than dead...You have no idea how much I am looking forward to that."

"And what exactly are you going to have me arrested for, Wormtail? For being smarter than you? For leaving a sinking ship? Isn't that what the average rat would have done, Wormtail? But I forget, you weren't ever the one with the brains, were you?"

"Crucio!" Severus doubled over as the curse hit him, convulsively clenching his teeth against the wave of pain, determined not to give the Rat the satisfaction of the response he was hoping for. Within seconds, he was covered in sweat, shaking, dimly aware of Hannah crying out off to the side.

Finally, Pettigrew lifted the curse. After a few hard breaths, the Potions master looked up at him with a disdainful sneer. "Is that the best you can come up with, Wormtail? Let me tell you, it doesn't compare to what Voldemort could do. You were never the brightest of students, were you?"

"You just keep talking, Snape. You'll change your tune soon enough." Pettigrew said in a quivering voice. "But you were asking me what you would get arrested for. Weren't you wondering about your father? Does he look well to you?"

Almost against his will, Severus turned towards the bed and looked at the still form on it. Augustus Snape was lying on his left side, facing the two wizards. No, he did not look well. His face was paler than usual and contorted with fear. Some sort of binding spell, Severus thought. It's holding him in place. A silencing spell, too, I would guess. And he knows something I don't.

"You see, Severus. Your father knows. He knows what will happen. Imperio!"

The curse intruded into his mind like a dart, quickly, incisively - and just as quickly, Severus had built up layer upon layer of protection around the intrusion. Trained to shut out invasion of his mind, one result of being a skillful Occlumens was the ability to resist the Imperius curse much easier. But Pettigrew didn't know that.

Snape, still on his knees, allowed himself to relax, to bow submissively. Pettigrew straightened up and let out a breath. "There now, isn't that better? Saeran, go and untie his hands."

The grey-haired witch immediately loosened the rope that tied her son's hands. Soon, the bonds fell to the floor, unheeded. Saeran quickly stepped back to where she had been, next to Hannah.

Severus was thinking furiously. He was too far away from Pettigrew to get close enough to snatch back his wand before being Stupefied - or worse. Better to play along, and wait for an opportunity, any opportunity. He tried to get up, testing his legs, finding that they would hold. Slowly, he rose, head bowed, as if waiting for a command.

With an irritated jab of his wand, Pettigrew pointed towards the ornate desk along the opposite wall. "Go over there."

Like an automaton, Snape followed orders.

"Open the top drawer. Take out the knife."

Severus slowly pulled at the knob - inside the drawer, there was a dagger, with a strangely-carved handle of ebony and a short, slim blade. His fingers closed around the hilt as he lifted it out.

"And now, Severus, I need you to stab your father. In the back, if you please." Pettigrew's voice was as pleasant and commonplace as if he were asking him to please pass the butter.

Severus' eyes widened as he looked down on his father's face. Augustus' fear was palpable now, his eyes open so wide they showed a ring of white. He was sucking in air, gulping frantically, moving his mouth as if wanting to speak, mutely appealing to his son.

For a moment, there was a feeling of elation, of enjoying the power he held in his hand and the expression of terror in his father's eyes. But the feeling soured quickly, and for maybe the first time in his life, he looked down on his father with pity.

What now?

Pettigrew was right - the cards were in his favor. He couldn't stab his father - he would not give the Rat the rope to hang him with. He needed a wand. Any wand.

He turned slowly towards Pettigrew and held out the hand with the knife in a gesture of submission, allowing his hand to tremble. "I wish to obey, but my arms are still weak from the punishment you bestowed on me earlier..."

Impatiently, Pettigrew waved Saeran over. "Let's get this over with. I'm tired of him staring at me, and the odd way he breathes annoys me. I'd do it myself if I could, but that would defeat the purpose, wouldn't it?"

Snape's mother walked over towards her son, stowing her wand in the deep-set pocket of her robe as she approached him. Damn. He had hoped she would keep it in her hand. Pettigrew was still standing next to Hannah, who was trying to raise herself on one elbow. Snape's chest felt tight as he saw her out of the corner of his eye - he doubted she had felt a Cruciatus curse before. He should have never brought her.

His mother stepped up close to him and put her hand on his arm. "Severus..." For a moment he saw the familiar, faded smile, and he could almost forget that she was controlled by the madman across the room.

"Shall we go around to the other side?" His mother took him by the hand and pulled him around the bed, until they stood facing his father's back.

"Ready, son?" She placed her hand over his around the hilt of the dagger. He nodded. Augustus Snape's breathing got louder, quicker. Severus raised his arm slowly, his mother following suit. For a moment, their hands, holding the dagger, hung motionless in the air. Then, lightning quick, a sweep of the leg, and Saeran stumbled. A shout from Pettigrew, a bolt of light shooting their way. Severus dove down behind the bed, taking his mother with him. Dropping the dagger, one arm encircling her waist, he pulled her close, his other hand desperately trying to reach the wand. And found that the entrance to a pocket in a voluminous robe was hard to find. Especially with the robe piled on the floor around a squirming woman, fighting him for all she was worth. Scratching, shouting, her hand scrambling for the dagger. "Master, he..."

"Crucio!"

Hannah's screams rang in his ears.

"Let go of her and stand up, Severus, slowly, hands up in the air, or I swear I will kill this one." Peter's voice was high, agitated, almost childlike. "You know I will."

For a second, Severus lay motionless. Saeran scrambled away on hands and knees, her hair disheveled, a tear at the shoulder of her robe.

He closed his eyes and expelled a long breath. This was it then. Gambit over. He raised his hands where Peter could see them and slowly stood up. Peter had crouched down and pulled Hannah up against him like a human shield, pointing his wand at her as she twisted beneath his grip, shaking, her voice getting hoarse.

"Walk over here. Slowly."

"Leave her alone now. You got me."

"Getting soft in your old age, are you? You used to not be so squeamish." But he finally lifted the curse off Hannah, dropped her abruptly, and turned towards Severus. The screaming died down to a sobbing moan.

One curse knocked Severus to his knees, another, and he was motionless on his side.

"Saeran, if you would do the honors again?" Still wide-eyed and shaking, the witch re-tied the ropes around her son's hands.

Then, as a countercurse lifted the leaden weight off his muscles, he heard Pettigrew's voice, calm and collected now that the situation was under control again. "Don't you want to at least watch, Severus?" He waited with an amused smile while the Potions master struggled to sit up.

"Finish the job, Saeran." Peter said languidly.

Severus watched as the witch walked over to the side of the bed, bent over to pick up the dagger, and stood at the ready. At a nod from Pettigrew, she positioned Augustus, struggling with his much heavier body as she rolled him further onto his stomach. When she finally had him the way she wanted him, she stepped back with a satisfied look and lifted her arm high, the blade of the dagger glinting. Severus closed his eyes and turned away. He did not need or want to see this.

There was a dull thud and a gasping exhalation, and then the dry, rasping sound of his father's breath turned wet and gurgling, first speeding up, then growing slower and slower.

Severus still knelt, eyes closed, emotions chasing each other, passing second by second. Hate, revulsion, anger, "not like this." Finally, pity mingled with disgust as the last gurgling breath died away. She had loved him once.