The Heart of Night

Heart of the Night

~*~

Do Not Blame Him

~*~*~*~

The Night

~*~*~

Severus Snape was worried.

Remus Lupin had been disappeared for two weeks. And it was now the night of full moon, and he couldn't have had his Wolfsbane from anywhere.

Not that he'd cared about the man - he still hated Lupin, no matter what - but he was worried about what he might do when the wolf took over the control.

If he was still alive to transform, that was.

He shook the thought away from his head. If somebody had wanted Lupin dead, they could have just as easily killed him in his bed as took him with them. More probably the werewolf had gone crazy and ran away. Nothing else could have explained his absence around the full moon - the damned Gryffindor honour made sure he would never endanger anyone if there was an alternative option offered.

His worry was soon forgotten, however, as he felt the all too familiar pain on his left forearm. He went to the fireplace and hastily tossed some of the Floo powder to it, calling out, "Albus Dumbledore!"

Soon, the Headmaster's face appeared in the flames. He looked well awake despite the late hour. As soon as he saw Severus, his hand clutched on his forearm, he nodded with a firm expression.

"Go as you have to," he said. "And Severus... Please, listen to any hint about Remus."

Severus studied the old wizard for a moment. Suddenly, he noticed that he looked not only old, but ancient. His face was traced with lines of worry, and there were dark shadows under his usually so merrily twinkling eyes.

"I will," he promised. Then, without waiting for another command, he turned on his heels and began his way out of the school.

*

As soon as Severus Apparated to the usual meeting place, he knew that something was wrong. It was hard to miss it, anyway, since there were no other people around. Usually most of the other Death Eaters were already present as he got out of the anti-Apparation wards around Hogwarts.

As he raised his eyes at the Dark Lord, his suspicions were, to his great shock, confirmed. "Severus," Voldemort hissed, "you are a traitor."

His eyes flew wide in shock and surprise. "My Lord?" he asked, fearful.

The only response he got was, "Expelliarmus." Then, as his wand flew out of his hand, "Petrificus Totalus." But he was not completely binded by the spell - he noticed that he could still move his mouth. Most probably Voldemort wanted to hear him scream during whatever torture was prepared to him.

For some time, he simply lay there, trying to imagine what Voldemort would do to him before killing him. None of the pictures were pleasant. He was a bit confused as nothing came down to him - until Voldemort waved to the side of the little clearing.

"Look," the Dark Lord hissed. "An old friend wanted to meet you.

Severus gasped. He recognized the animal. That smooth, golden brown fur, those deep, amber eyes - he had seen this wolf before, more times than he cared to count. "Lupin," he breathed.

"Yes," Voldemort hissed. "Your pretty little pet werewolf. How ironic that he'll serve as my tool of punishment." He turned towards the wolf and pointed a long, bony finger at Severus. "Bite him," he ordered malicuously. "Bite, and nothing else."

The wolf pawed towards him. Severus saw the animalistic fury in its eyes, the frustration of being held under the rulement of a human, as there was no Wolfsbane to hold back that fury and rage. He also saw agony and fear, as the little part of the man under the curse and the effect of the wolf showed up.

"It's not your fault," Severus assured the little bit that was Lupin in the wolf as he saw the wolf opening its mouth around his arm. He caught a glimpse of understanding in the amber eyes when the strong jaws suddenly closed, holding his arm firmly between them.

"Not your faul!" he screamed as the pain of being bit hit him. It wasn't worse than Cruciatus, of course, so he could cope. Nothing was worse than Cruciatus. But it still hurt, and more than just a wolf's bite would have, because he also felt the venom of the curse flowing into his veins, poisoning his whole body with it, filling every inch of his body with that curse.

Lupin's curse, and now his. The most feared disease in the Wizarding World.

Lycanthropy.

"Not your fault," he whispered as the wolf finally let go and walked away from him by Voldemort's order. The pain didn't cease. He still felt the venom making its way all around his body, burning him as it did so.

"No," the Dark Lord laughed. "Not his fault. It's only your own fault, nobody else's." Then he narrowed his eyes and shouted, "Crucio!" At first Severus thought it was targeted on him, but then he saw the wolf flying backwards with a yelp of pain. In some deep corner of his mind where he was still capable of sensible thinking, he pitied Lupin. This wasn't one bit the werewolf's fault, he had been caught only in order to punish Severus. This was entirely Severus's own fault, both his pain and Lupin's.

Then Voldemort casted Crucio again.

This time, it hit a different target.