Mist and Vapors

"Well, that's that." Pettigrew said in the same tone he might have used before ticking an item off a shopping list. "Now, on to the fun part of the day. - You are dismissed, Saeran." He watched as the older witch backed out of the door with a bow.

Then he grinned at Snape. "Would you like to know how I did it?"

In response, Severus contemptuously turned away his head, his lips pressed together in a hard line.

"It was easy as can be, Snivellus. I showed up at the door about a week ago. Your father is an old friend, you see, not a particularly close one, but still...Anyway, I asked him to shelter me for a little while. Not to brag, but I was the wizard closest to the Dark Lord over the last few years. Your father knew that well. A good man, really - pity he had to die.

"It was lovely, the first few days. So many nice evenings in front of the fire with a bottle of wine, reminiscing about the good old days... I told him how much I regretted not having been able to do more for him. I knew well the aspirations he had back then, you see. Do you want to know what I told him?" Pettigrew's face shone with delight. "I told him that it was entirely your fault that he never advanced into the upper ranks of the Dark Lord's legion. That you were poisoning His ear against your father, telling Him he could not be trusted. You will be happy to know that he had absolutely no trouble believing that, and that he died hating you more than ever." With a smirk, he bowed in Severus' direction.

The Potions master gave no indication that he was listening to a word coming out of Peter's mouth.

"You said that I wasn't a good student," the Rat continued in a mock-injured voice. "But you're wrong, Severus. I learned so much. I learned from the best. Everyone knows Mulciber was the best at the Imperius curse. I had him teach me. Just think about what your mother did today, and then tell me again that I am a poor student." He laughed. "When your timid little mouse of a mother stands up in front of the jury, and tearfully tells the story of how her son murdered her beloved husband in cold blood, whom do you think the jury will believe, Severus? Especially with your reputation?"

At that, Severus finally looked at the smaller wizard, contempt in every line of his face.

Pettigrew shook his head. "Sort of ironic, isn't it, that Frank Hannigan hates you every bit as much as I do? Opposite reasons, absolutely the same result. No, Severus, this time it will be the Dementors for you. - But the night isn't getting any younger. Too bad I can't actually damage you too much. But as used to the Cruciatus as you are, there ought to be a fair amount of fun to be had before you become useless. But I have something special planned for you. Do you recognize this?" He pulled a wand out of his pocket. "It's sort of poetic, isn't it? To use your dead father's wand for the inaugural curse of tonight's entertainment? Crucio!"

Hannah looked on in horror as the curse hit, and Severus doubled up on the ground with a short moaning expulsion of breath, every muscles tensing whip-tight.

Used to it? What was that supposed to mean? How did you get used to this? After getting hit three times, she was still nearly incapacitated. Her throat was raw from screaming, and every muscle in her body felt like quivering jelly, powerless, aching and throbbing. Her mind whirred from word to image, having a hard time holding on to reason, disjointed thoughts whirling by, racing around like a carousel horse. Just the memory of the pain was enough to drive tears to her eyes. How could he bear it like that?

"Stop it." Her voice barely obeyed her. "Please, stop it."

It wasn't much more than a whisper, but Pettigrew had heard her. He turned to her with lifted eyebrows and his mouth slightly open, as if he had completely forgotten about her presence. Then his face relaxed into a grin. "That's right - we have an audience, Severus."

He let his wand-arm drop, and Snape's body sagged as the curse lifted.

"How about that? Someone is pleading for you." A few steps, and he crouched down near Hannah. Grabbing her roughly by the chin, he tilted her face up and bent forward until his fleshy lips almost touched her ear. "You have bad taste in wizards, my dear," he hissed, flecks of spittle flying against her skin. Then he let her drop again, and straightened up. With a sneer, he looked at the prone figure. "Doesn't it make you feel good, Severus, to have someone actually care about what happens to you? Though why she would, I do not know. There's just no accounting for taste. - So, should I kill her now, or wait until later? You know it has to happen. I'm afraid my plans do not include anyone other than you. 'Kill the spare' - ah, the memories..." He sighted regretfully, then visibly cheered up. "Well, before we continue, let's have a drink - to your health, maybe?" He grinned, then turned for a brief moment to retrieve a bottle and a glass from the tall credenza next to the door.

At that, Severus slowly lifted his head. Strands of black hair, damp with sweat, were stuck to his face, half-obscuring his features. Hannah tried to smile at him, but the attempt failed miserably as tears rose in her eyes instead.

Through her tears, she could see Severus looking at her intently, his black eyes boring into hers. She had seen that look before - it was the look he employed when he was waiting for a dunderhead - student or colleague - to come up with what should be an obvious answer. There was something he needed her to see, to understand. He suddenly dropped his gaze pointedly to the side. Her eyes almost involuntarily followed his. What did he want? There was nothing there but the jumbled heap of her belongings where Pettigrew had dumped them out of her bag. He looked back at her, his eyes narrowing almost imperceptibly.

For only a second or two, they stared at each other. I don't understand, Hannah thought wildly. What is it? If only her brain would stop racing around like a rabbit...

She stared blankly at him. All of a sudden, the realization hit like a thunderbolt.

Of course. The Portkey. How could she have been so stupid? Pettigrew must have assumed they had Apparated in. The tin was still in the pile on the floor. All she had to do was wait until Pettigrew was distracted, then grab the tin, and she would disappear. She could get help.

Snape must have heard her quick breath of relief. He gave her an almost imperceptible nod.

At that moment, Pettigrew turned back around. Amber liquid sloshed around in a water tumbler.

"Ladies first, don't you think?" He crouched down next to Hannah again, lifted her face, and held the glass to her mouth. She tried to twist away, her lips pressed together tightly, only to have him tighten his grasp to a near vise-grip. "You will drink," he hissed. He forced the glass between her lips, against her teeth, until the whisky spilled over her chin and down the front of her robe, and she gulped down a choking mouthful. Only then was he satisfied and let her drop again.

"Well, to your health, Snivellus." He held the glass up with a grin before downing the remaining content.

He placed the glass on the credenza, and walked around Snape's prone body. "Let's see, now we..."

Sudden, Snape's leg kicked out viciously. Pettigrew barely managed to jump out of the way before the Potions master's booted foot connected with his shin. Snape was scrambling after him as well as he could, when Pettigrew in a quicker, more fluid movement than Hannah would have given him credit for pointed his wand at Snape's offending leg. "Adflictatio!"

Here was her chance, Hannah thought. Severus had created the distraction on purpose, of that she was sure. Trying to get her limbs to cooperate, she twisted towards the pile on the ground. Just a second more, and she would have it.

And then, her mind stopped spinning for a moment. What the hell did she think she was doing? If she grabbed the Portkey, sure, she would be fine, but what about Severus? Did he really think Pettigrew would just patiently wait around for a rescue team to arrive? No, if she left, he was as good as dead. It all made sense now. Damn him and his heroics. They were in this together. She was sure as hell not leaving without him.

Snape, his body bracing against the pain, tried to ignore his leg, where the bones seemed to have liquefied into molten metal, red-hot, burning from the inside out. What would he have to do to get the message through her thick skull? What was she waiting for? Taking a chance, he looked up and glared at her, angrily and impatiently. To his surprise, she was glaring angrily right back at him. Now what was her problem? This really should not be that hard to figure out. Blast that woman. The last thing he needed was another death on his conscience.

"Don't do that again, Severus," Pettigrew petulantly interrupted his thoughts. "You leave me no choice but to punish you."

He stepped back over to Hannah. "Now watch, my dear, and see how it is done."

After that, it was wave after wave. Hannah begged and pleaded as Severus convulsed on the ground, defenseless, one curse hitting before the previous one was lifted. She watched as his stoic silence got stretched beyond endurance, and these low moaning, keening sounds that she would not forget for as long as she lived started coming from his throat.

When begging seemed to do nothing, she started throwing insults at Pettigrew, taking her cue from what Severus had hurled at the wizard earlier. Invective rained down on his head, but he seemed to be immune to distraction from her. Finally, all she could do was weep. It was her wrenching sobs that finally drew Pettigrew's attention.

His eyebrows were drawn together in irritation. "Your incessant noise is getting rather wearying. I can barely hear Severus," he complained. Hannah was too far gone to care. In exasperation, Pettigrew lifted his wand at her. For a minute there was unbearable heat in her throat, and then something seemed to tear with a white-hot stab of pain. She tried to speak, to say something, anything, but nothing came out. She clutched at her throat in horror as Pettigrew started to turn back towards the Potions master.

Had she made the wrong choice? Should she have left and forced Pettigrew into a quick, merciful end? What Severus was having to endure went far beyond the imaginable... She tried to turn away, to at least not look any more, but he noticed and grabbed her by the hair, pulling her head back around.

"Watch, or you die right now," he ground out between clenched teeth.

It seemed like the endless procession of agony had gone on forever when finally Severus' eyes rolled back in his head. Only the whites were visible under half-closed eyelids; his body going limp and still. Hannah's heart stopped for a beat. Was he...?

Pettigrew ambled over and prodded him in the side with a shoe tip. "Out cold," he said, his lip curling up to reveal large front teeth, his nose wrinkling. "That's no fun." Hannah started breathing again.

Rubbing his hand over his chin, Peter stepped back. Severus, hands still tied, unconscious, was obviously not a threat. He looked at Hannah. "Just for insurance," he said with a snicker, and for a moment she descended into an even deeper circle of hell as the Cruciatus hit for the fourth time. It lifted quickly enough this time, and Pettigrew walked over to the door.

"You two deserve a break for a while. I have a few more details to settle with dear Mrs. Snape, so you take a breather. I'll be back soon." And with that, he left.

Hannah couldn't believe it. Gone. He had gone. Shivering, gasping for air, she looked around wildly. She had to make it, somehow. Inch by agonizing inch, she crawled towards Severus. When she reached him, she wrapped her arms around him, pushing off with her legs, dragging his dead weight behind her. From somewhere, she found strength she would have not suspected she had. The sound of footsteps came back up the stairs when she in desperation lunged forward the last half yard of space, and, with one arm still around him, stretched out her hand and grasped the tin. Just as the door opened, she felt the familiar tug of the Portkey. A second later there was torch-light, and the soft touch of the Oriental rug in Severus' office beneath her outstretched fingers.

They were back.

.-.-.-.

Immediately, there were voices and faces, blurry before her eyes.

"Get Poppy, quick!"

Someone tried to gently pry her arm off Severus' chest, but she was hanging on for dear life.

"Can you tell us what happened?" came the gentle voice of the Headmaster. She just stared at him, with soundless sobs wracking her frame, tears running down her face quietly.

"I don't think she can talk." That was the shaky voice of Remus Lupin.

Then someone knelt down next to her, and Hannah looked up into the sweet old wrinkled face of Filius Flitwick. She mouthed a word to him silently, anguish written all over her features. Filius nodded reassuringly. "We'll take care of him. You can let go now. It'll be all right." He spoke calmly, quietly, like he would speak to a frightened child. As she finally released her hold on Severus, the ancient wizard half-lifted her, pulling her head against his chest, wrapping his arms around her. "Shh, child, it's over. It's over." He rocked her gently, back and forth, wiping the tears that kept coming.

She barely heard the voices of Madam Pomfrey and the Headmaster arguing while the nurse was working on Severus.

"...I don't care what you think you need to know, she can't even speak right now. And she's hysterical. I'm going to give her something that will put her to sleep, and when she wakes up, you can sort out the details." There was a low mumble before she heard the strident voice of the school's nurse again. "Absolutely not. - Remus, Albus, see that Severus gets transported to the hospital wing. Albus, you may also want to let the rest of the staff know that they are back. And now the whole lot of you will let me do my job, you hear?"

A few seconds later, there were hands smoothing back her hair. "Can you look at me, dear?" Hannah reluctantly turned her head. Poppy Pomfrey was holding a phial. "This will help you sleep."

She didn't want to sleep. She turned her face away, pressing her lips together tightly.

The next moment, the phial was pushed against her mouth, and her head was back in the vice grip; the potion was gagging her, choking her. She looked up at Flitwick wide-eyed, hurt, betrayed. Tears were running down his old cheeks. "I'm sorry, love. It's for your own good. I'm so sorry." His soft blue eyes were the last things she saw as the world faded to black.