Stay Free

Chapter 10: Meetings and Mayhem

The minute the door shut behind him, Severus immediately began rolling up the sleeve of his heavy black robes. It caused the ugly tattoo on his left forearm to be shown in the dim light. The burning was dampened slightly when it wasn't covered with heavy fabric. Draco, a couple steps behind the Potions Master, eyed it curiously, but didn't speak a word.

"Professor, sir--" he began to say, but Severus cut him off.

"Draco, you must listen to me. There wasn't enough time to give you a proper introduction to being a Death Eater, but I'll do my best with the time given."

He continued talking as he walked up the next flight of stairs, heading to the room he used at Grimmauld Place. "When the Dark Lord arrives, you line up to kiss his robes--don't bother with that disgusted look on your face, you get used to it. Do not speak unless you are spoken to. If you are spoken to, say the least amount you can get away with. Be polite. Agree with everything the Dark Lord says, unless it's something that could possibly get him in trouble."

"But if I'm supposed to be a spy, shouldn't I say things that will get him in trouble?" asked Draco curiously.

"No," Severus snapped as the Dark Mark burned sharply. "That is my job, not yours. You are the eyes and ears that I cannot provide for the Order."

"But...didn't the Dark Lord just have Potter curse me?" Draco pointed out. "If he was in Potter's mind at the time, then he knew that we were working with Legilimency and Occlumency. How can I be helpful to Dumbledore if the Dark Lord thinks that you've been teaching me Occlumency?"

Severus paused. With worrying over the possibility of Draco's death and Potter's entry into Azkaban if the Ministry discovered the curse, he had forgotten about that tiny detail.

"Er...Just say that I was helping you with Occlumency, in hope that Dumbledore wouldn't be able to poke through your mind," Severus decided. Reaching under the bed, he pulled out a small, dark trunk. He pushed it open, dug through the various potions flasks and books, and took out two black masks.

"You will wear this," Severus instructed, handing the smaller one to Draco, who took it with wide eyes. "It's the one I used when I was younger--it doesn't fit me anymore. I trust you have a black cloak with you?"

"Yes," answered Draco, "in the living room." He eyed the mask in his hand, and a brief smile crossed his face. "I'm getting Death Eater hand-me-downs from my Potions professor. How priceless is this?"

"It's certainly invaluable," Severus said, taking out his own cloak and wrapping it around himself. "Now, let's go get your cloak, and we'll Apparate away."

"But I don't know how to Apparate!" Draco protested as he followed him down the stairs to the living room.

"You'll learn later," said Severus dryly, and, grasping the cloak lying on the worn couch, thrust it into Draco's hands. "For the time being, I'll Apparate you. You'll have to learn yourself later. Yes, you will be breaking the law," he added. "But Fudge has got more to worry about than underage Apparition."

"Should I put this on?" Draco inquired, holding up the mask with the tips of his fingers, as though it was dirty. "Or should I wait until we get there?"

"We'll be Apparating a short distance away from the meeting area, so yes, you should wait," answered Severus, stuffing his own mask into his pocket. He began walking out of the room, but stopped when he realized Draco wasn't following him.

"Okay," Draco said nervously. His face was now white, and he was shaking slightly. "It's now or never, right?"

"Now," said Severus menacingly. Draco squeaked and followed him down the corridor.

"Listen, Professor...How long do these meetings usually last?"

"Depends," Severus answered, now fiddling with the locks and bolts on the front door, "on his mood. It's probably going to be an hour or so, because we've got a new recruit."

"What am I going to do after the end of the meeting?" asked Draco, fidgeting with his hands.

"Whatever your father tells you to do," replied Severus. "Contact Dumbledore or myself at the safest time possible, and tell either of us where you are and what's going on. That way we can know where you are, and if you're all right."

He finally finished with all the locks, and opened the door. A huge gust of warm wind flooded the cold room, and the hairs on the back of his neck stood up at the change of temperature. "Let's go, Draco."

The two of them stepped out of Number Twelve and onto the pavement. Severus gripped Draco's upper arm, saying, "Try not to move, if you can manage it. I'd like to not leave part of you behind for everyone to view."

As they Apparated away, Number Twelve shrunk back into nothing, allowing Number Eleven and Thirteen to widen and take its place.

* * *

Harry climbed up the stone steps after the meeting had ended, eager to speak with Hermione and Ron. He realized he hadn't spent much time with either of them since he had arrived at Sirius's old home, and since he was going to be leaving it soon, he figured he should spend some time with the two of them.

"Hey," said Ron quietly when Harry entered his room. Hermione, sitting on the opposite bed, looked up. "How was the meeting?"

Harry shrugged. "Pretty boring, actually." He took a seat next to Ron, feeling the mattress descend a few inches under both their weight. "I thought it would be a bit more exciting."

"Yeah, Fred and George told me it wasn't much fun," Ron said, leaning against the wall. "I suppose it's more exciting to listen through Extendable Ears," he added, and laughed dryly.

There was a pause, which Harry broke by saying, "So...what have you two been doing this summer?"

"Nothing much, really, " Ron said casually. "Been helping Mum around the house, let her take a break. She's been going nuts about Percy. He still won't talk to us, and Fudge doesn't tell us a damn thing."

Harry snorted. "Of course he doesn't. Political figures don't tell people anything. It's their job."

"Yeah, I suppose so," said Ron softly. "Listen, Harry...are you going to be staying here for the rest of the summer? Until term starts?"

"No," answered Harry mournfully, "with Voldemort possessing me every now and then, Dumbledore feels it will be more safer for me and everyone else if I leave Grimmauld Place."

Ron and Hermione stared at him blankly. "Leave?" Ron sputtered. "Leave? But--"

"The whole Order just agreed on it," Harry interrupted. "We can't afford to let Voldemort know where headquarters are. Or any of the people in the Order. At the moment, I'm the weapon he can use to his advantage. Dumbledore's moving me to Hogwarts."

With Hermione still staring wordlessly at him, and unknown words falling out of Ron's mouth, Harry silently stood and left the room.

* * *

They Apparated into an empty meadow, the tall grasses scratching against their robes. The stars and moon above them in the velvety sky blinked, shining brightly. To the right, there was the beginnings of a forest, the trees growing closer together as Severus's eyes travelled. To the left, a small cabin stood, a single candle burning behind a dirty window. Many dark shadows were on the wall behind the candle, and Severus felt the Mark twitch.

"This is it," he growled, and, grasping Draco's arm firmly, led him towards the cabin. "Put on your mask."

Draco fumbled in his pocket, pulling out Severus's old mask with a shaking hand. He pulled it over his face, until only the cold grey eyes were visible in the darkness. As he did so, Severus slipped his own over his face.

"Keep your mouth shut and don't do anything stupid," Severus hissed through the thin fabric blocking his mouth as they reached the cabin door. He raised the hand that wasn't gripping Draco's shoulder, and knocked.

A man opened the door almost immediately. Brown eyes peered at them through a hood. He was just above six feet, with a thin but muscular frame of a runner. His cloak fluttered behind him as a gust of wind flew into the cabin.

"Come in, come in," the man grunted, beckoning them inside with his left hand. The other was clutching a wand. "That you, Snape?"

"Evening, Avery," said Severus curtly. He stepped over the threshold, closely followed by Draco. "Has Lucius arrived yet? I've got his son with me, he'll probably want to speak with him..."

"He's in the back," Avery answered, jerking his head towards a door to the right. The other door, to his left, was closed, but there were people speaking in low, harsh tones behind it. "Waitin' for you, I'm guessing."

Severus nodded his thanks and strode through the door. His heart had begun to pound loudly, so much that it hurt...He always felt nervous before a meeting, even though he was quite sure the Dark Lord wouldn't kill him. After all, he was valuable, being the only Death Eater close enough to both Dumbledore and Harry Potter. (Not to mention one of the few decent Potion Masters.) Nevertheless, his heart always raced.

It was a small room with a low ceiling, the walls painted a cheerful sky blue. There was an empty box in the corner, surrounded by three wooden chairs. Lucius was sitting at the 'table', his mask hanging off the arm of the chair. A leg was propped up on the table, the other booted foot hanging lazily off the edge. He saw Severus and Draco enter the room, and slid his leg off the table.

"Hello, Severus," Lucius said pleasantly. His right hand, covered in a black glove, was stroking the top of the cane he always carried around with him, his wand hidden secretly inside. "And...ah, yes...Draco."

He spat out his son's name as though it made him sick to hear it. Draco moved slightly to the left, so that Severus concealed half of his body.

"Lucius," Severus replied calmly, "your son has informed me that he wishes to join us."

"He did not seem very keen on the idea earlier," said Lucius coldly. "How am I to know that he is not a spy, sent by Dumbledore?"

"Because he told me so," answered Severus, trying to keep his voice calm and steady. Breathe in, breathe out. "I am much more advanced in Legilimency that you are, Lucius. I can tell when someone is lying to me. Draco, however, is not."

Lucius eyed him suspiciously for a moment, then said, "Both of you, please, sit down."

They sat. Lucius folded his gloved hands in front of himself, rubbing the thumbs together. "Draco," he began, his voice cold and harsh, "why did you not become one of us before, when it was more convenient?"

"I thought it would get me closer to Dumbledore, Father," Draco answered smoothly. The fear had left his voice, replaced with an icy politeness. "And it worked."

Lucius raised his eyebrows and didn't speak for a moment. It was a sign that he was impressed, though he did not wish to say so. "It has?"

"Yes," continued Draco, his voice growing stronger. "The old fool believes I'm one of them." He snorted. "Like I wouldn't give anything to see Harry Potter die."

He said the last statement so fiercely that it almost rang with truth, but Severus could hear the lie behind it. Lucius, however, did not.

"Good, Draco, good..." Lucius said, looking amused. "I'm quite proud of you...Good to see the anger coming back..."

"Is everyone else here?" Severus asked, hoping to cut the conversation away from Draco. He had done well, but Lucius was smart, and he could see through his son if necessary.

"Almost. Pettigrew, Avery, Macnair, Jugson, Dolohov, Goyle, Crabbe, and Rookwood are here. We're awaiting the arrival of Bellatrix, Rodolphus and him."

At the mention of the Dark Lord, Severus felt his Mark twitch again. Beside him, Draco let out an almost silent whimper. Luckily, Lucius was still speaking, and he did not hear.

"Bella's been having some troubles with travelling, and if she is, so is Rodolphus. Don't know why she married him, he's as dumb as a box of rocks--"

There was a sharp knocking on the door. Lucius sighed heavily, as though he had just been interrupted in the middle of doing something rather important. "What is it?" he called out.

"Bella is here," grunted a low voice, "and so is Rodolphus."

"Very well." They all stood, Lucius slipping on his mask. "Come, now, Draco, and learn what it means to become a true Malfoy..."

Severus followed the father and son out of the small room. He could see Draco trembling from head to foot as Lucius led him into the very centre of the other room, where people had been speaking. They all fell silent as the three of them entered.

Severus took his place in the circle, to the left of Wormtail. Lucius stood on the other side, his gloved hand gripping his son's shoulder tightly. There were low murmurings, and Severus could see many of the Death Eaters pointing at Draco from under their cloaks.

The door burst open a few minutes later, a fresh wind flying inside behind the thin man who stood in the doorway. His unnaturally long white fingers were twirling a wand, scarlet eyes scanning the room. Severus's chest tightened, and his Mark began to burn.

The Dark Lord had arrived.

Bella and Rodolphus made a space for him so that he could walk through. He did, striding almost cat-like to the centre of the room, returning his wand into the pocket of his robes.

The Dark Lord stood in the middle of the room for a full minute, inspecting each person with a glare of his red eyes and a swish of his cloak as they each bent to kiss his robes. Severus could feel Wormtail shaking beside him; they were all standing shoulder to shoulder, making a tight circle around the Dark Lord.

"Good evening, friends," the Dark Lord said lazily, pacing inside the circle.

"Good evening, Master," they all responded in unison, their voices ringing.

"There is not much business to be taken care of tonight," the Dark Lord continued, "except..." He paused, stopping in front of Draco and Lucius. "...for our new recruit."

Though Draco had grown over the past summers, the Dark Lord was well over six feet and towered over the silver-haired boy. He slouched, gazing at Draco with the unmistakable glint of Legilimency in his eyes. Draco stood up straighter, and glared. The Dark Lord chuckled and looked away.

"He's certainly got anger in him, Lucius."

"He does, Master," Lucius replied eagerly. "I believe he will be a fine addition to our ranks--"

"Silence."

Lucius's mouth snapped shut. He bowed his head in apology.

"Much better. Now, Draco..." He surveyed the younger boy critically. "You did not wish to join us earlier, did you not?"

"I was hoping to get closer to Dumbledore, sir," answered Draco swiftly, "before I joined."

"And have you?"

"I have, sir."

He chuckled again, this time deeper. "Enough with this sir business, boy. You will address me as 'Master', or 'my Lord'."

"But you are not my Master yet, sir," Draco pointed out.

There was a sharp intake of breath from around the room, and Severus closed his eyes. I told him not to do anything stupid...

Draco seemed to have realized his mistake, and he swallowed uncomfortably. Yet, he continued to stare right into the Dark Lord's eyes with a determined air.

"You are correct, Draco," said the Dark Lord with a hint of amusement in his high, cold voice. "I am not your Master. Yet."

Draco bowed his head in the same way his father did. "I wish you to be my master, sir."

The Dark Lord withdrew his wand, his white fingers standing out against the dark wood. "In a minute, Draco, be patient...Let us see how you deal with pain...Crucio!"

Draco let out one high-pitched scream before he fell to the ground, twitching and biting his lip in concentration so that blood dripped down his chin. Severus winced; he knew the pain of the Cruciatus Curse, the feeling of white-hot knives digging into every part of your body, and it never stopped--

Then he noticed that Draco was not screaming, nor was he trembling. He was merely lying on the floor, his fists clenched and eyes squeezed shut, the Dark Lord standing over him with his wand raised. He lowered it, and Draco sat bolt upright, taking in a huge gulp of air. There were tears of pain trickling down his cheeks.

"That was...exceptional," the Dark Lord said as Draco picked himself up off the ground slowly, and stood next to his father. "I have killed new recruits before, when they could not stand the pain...I see, however, that you have dealt with it better than a grown man could...There is more to you than meets the eye..."

"Thank you, sir," Draco gasped, holding onto his stomach.

"Now, for the Mark."

The Dark Lord beckoned Draco forward with his forefinger, and the boy stepped forward. He kept his back straight and his face blank, but Severus could sense the fear as though it were written across his forehead in bold letters. The Dark Lord, however, was preoccupied with the task of drawing something into Draco's left forearm with an Everlasting-Ink Quill he had taken out of his pocket, and did not notice.

'This will pinch only a bit, Draco," the Dark Lord said with a sinister smile, revealing straight, white teeth against his nearly lipless mouth. Severus suppressed a snort; he sounded like a Muggle doctor.

"I am used to pain, sir," Draco said loudly, his voice echoing in the silent room. "And I am ready for this."

"Good, Draco, good..." The Dark Lord withdrew his wand again, placing the tip upon the crude drawing. "Morsmorde!"

Another high-pitched scream filled the air as a flash of green light descended upon the room. Severus automatically lifted his arms up to shield his eyes, and saw Draco throw his head back in pain. There was blood dripping down his neck from his lip as his teeth dug into it sharply. The Dark Lord laughed cruelly, his cold voice reaching the very inside of Severus's mind as the green light turned to pure darkness.

For a moment, the only sound Draco's heavy breathing, and the Dark Lord's quiet chuckle. Severus lowered his arms, becoming frantic that he couldn't see. There was a muttered spell, and the candle was lit.

"Welcome home, Draco."

Draco was examining his left forearm with an expression of happiness upon his pointed face. "Thank you, Master. It is a wonderful gift for you to give to me, when I was assumed to be untrustworthy. I thank you."

He fell to his knees, kissing the hems of the Dark Lord's robes.

"You have taught him well, Lucius," the Dark Lord said with amusement as Draco climbed up off the floor and returned to his place beside his father. "As have you, Severus."

"Thank you, my Lord," Severus said curtly, nodding his head.

The Dark Lord walked around the circle once more, then barked, "You are dismissed!"

They all lined up single file to kiss the hem of his robes before leaving the cabin with a crack of Disapparition. Severus was the last one to leave--as he was the least trustworthy--and as he bent down, the Dark Lord caught a fistful of his hair with his hand, and yanked him up so they were face to face.

"Severus," he hissed, twisting the hair sharply, "I don't believe you have taught Draco in the way I wish him to be taught." His free hand grasped Severus's throat, his fingers digging into the skin.

"My Lord, I don't understand what you mean--" Severus choked. The fingers tightened.

"You know exactly what I'm talking about, Severus," the Dark Lord growled, and Severus felt himself being lifted up off the ground into the air. "You've taught Draco your ways, your sneaky way of sliding right under my radar and telling everything I say to Dumbledore--"

"Master, I would never dream of betraying you," interrupted Severus quickly. "I learned my lesson last time, my Lord, I would never--"

"Last time, you betrayed me because of Lily," the Dark Lord said smoothly, and Severus felt his heart jump at the mention of her name. The Dark Lord sensed it, and chuckled softly. "Yes, Severus...I know how you cared for Potter's mother...I know how much you loved her..."

"I did love her," Severus gasped. The fingers were slowly tightening, cutting off his air supply. His lungs were burning...

"Yes, you did," the Dark Lord said calmly. "And she returned that love, at least until James Potter came along..." He smirked. "But, now, Severus, there is one thing that could make you betray me now..."

"My Lord, I would never dream of--"

"As you know, Severus, I am in Harry Potter's mind at all times. He thinks of you often, you know." He smirk widened. "Almost as much as Sirius Black, me, or his dear parents..."

"He thinks of me?" Severus said with surprise.

"Quite often," said the Dark Lord. "He ponders on you and Lily a few hours each day...He's rather smart, you know, for a half-blood."

Ignoring the fact that the Dark Lord himself was a half-blood, Severus replied, "He has been blessed with Lily's mind."

"Yes," the Dark Lord agreed. Severus felt the fingers loosening, and he felt a bubble of hope grow in his chest. "He has grown fond of you." The sneer appeared on Severus's face before he even realized it. The Dark Lord continued, "Yes, he has. I suppose the hours you've spent with him in his Occlumency lessons has made you quite the father figure."

Father figure? Severus found himself thinking, and then quickly realized something was terribly wrong.

Occlumency lessons?

He knew...

"Yes, Severus..." the Dark Lord whispered in his ear, his breath warm and uncomfortable on his neck. "I know...You have been trying to teach Harry to block me out of his mind, but it has been my skills that kept you out instead of Harry's."

Severus kept his mouth clamped shut. Better to be silent than say something stupid and get myself killed...

"Severus, you will pay the price of your betrayal to me," the Dark Lord continued, his cruel voice tightened. "You will probably not survive this..."

* * *

Harry finished stuffing the rest of the books Remus had bought for him into his bag, and slung it over his shoulder. He headed into the spare bedroom where Sirius's letters were, retrieved them from the bed, and placed them carefully into the bag along with the box from his parent's house.

"Harry," said Hermione from the doorway, "Harry, Ron and I--"

"Get away from me," Harry said angrily. He took the things Snape had recovered from Privet Drive and stuffed them into his own bag. "We don't know what might happen if Voldemort--"

"We don't care," said Ron fiercely. "Harry, we don't give a flying--"

Hermione sent him a scathing look, and he said quickly, "I mean, we don't care about Voldemort. Harry, we--we care about you," Ron finished awkwardly.

Harry adjusted the strap on his shoulder, and said, "Look. I care about you two, too; you're my best friends, so I care what happens to you--"

"Harry, Voldemort could get into Hogwarts if he really wanted to," cut in Hermione. "Grimmauld Place is protected by Dumbledore--"

"IT DOESN'T MATTER!" Harry exploded. The anger began to bubble low in his belly, flowing through his veins and giving him the energy that he needed. "DON'T YOU UNDERSTAND? VOLDEMORT CAN SEE THINGS THROUGH MY MIND--IT DOESN'T MATTER IF THIS PLACE IS PROTECTED, HE CAN KNOW WHERE IT IS, WHO'S IN THE ORDER, AND ANYTHING ELSE HE NEEDS TO KNOW!"

"Then you just don't have to go to the meetings!" Hermione exclaimed. "Harry, we both want you to stay!"

She reached out and touched his arm lightly. Harry jerked it away as though his sleeve had caught fire.

"Harry--" Hermione began, her voice breaking and her eyes beginning to tear.

"It doesn't matter," Harry repeated. "It doesn't matter. Voldemort can see anything he wishes. Everything I thought I had worked for, it turned out to be a fake."

"But can we come with you?" Ron demanded. "We're not leaving you, Harry."

"Ask Dumbledore. He's still in the kitchen. I need to go talk to Remus."

Harry pushed his way through his Ron and Hermione's shoulders a bit more harshly than intended, so that they both let out small cries of pain. There was a twinge of guilt in Harry's chest, but the anger crushed it.

"Harry--" Hermione started to say.

"Don't bother, Hermione," Harry barked, leaning against the door frame casually. "Just don't bother. Dumbledore is making me leave, and I don't think you two will be able to see me until school begins. It's simply not safe for me to be around anyone until I get my Occlumency sorted out."

The tears in Hermione's eyes trickled down her cheeks, and Ron's jaw had tightened. His hand was on the small of her back, holding her a little closer than necessary.

"I'm sure you two will be able together without me," Harry snapped, "seeing as how you're just so damn happy together."

He turned on his heel, slamming the door behind him furiously and stomping down the corridor. He hurried down the stone steps into the kitchen, opening the door to a group of worried looking witches and wizards, including Remus, Dumbledore, Tonks, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, and Professor McGonagall. They were all looking towards the fireplace.

Harry glanced at the burning fire, and jumped at the sight of Draco Malfoy's head dancing in the flames. He looked exhausted, ill, and scared out of his wits. There were deep cuts along his lower lip in the shape of teeth marks.

"Hello, Potter," he said hoarsely. "Nice of you to join us--we were just discussing you. Would you like to add anything?"

"Great. I love it when people talk about me when I'm not there," Harry said furiously. He realized that he was breathing heavily and quickly, as though he had run a couple of miles without stopping.

"Harry, do you feel all right?" Dumbledore asked with concern.

"No." Harry spotted an empty seat between Remus and Tonks, and plopped down into it. "Hermione and Ron don't want me to leave."

"They will understand," Mrs. Weasley said gently.

"Well, it might take awhile," Harry said. His scar burned sharply, and he let out a cry of pain as he pressed his palms into his forehead. "Oh, ow..."

"Harry, are you all right?" Dumbledore repeated.

A spark of annoyance lit inside Harry, fuelled by the anger. "Do I look all right to you, Dumbledore?" he retorted, inhaling sharply.

Remus grasped his shoulder. Harry tried to jerk it away, but the fingers tightened. "Harry, I want you to concentrate," said Remus quietly. "Getting yourself angry and annoyed isn't going to help this. Slow your breathing."

"Think of something that would annoy the Dark Lord," Malfoy drawled from the fireplace, "so we can get back to what we were talking about earlier. I don't have all the time in the world, you know."

"Mr. Malfoy, you may not be at school at the moment, but I can still punish you for your insolence," Professor McGonagall snapped. "Be quiet."

Harry felt himself shaking violently, his scar throbbing. He closed his eyes against the pain, trying to breathe. His throat closed up, and he felt worry and fear growing up against the anger.

"I can't breathe," he gasped, taking in gulps of air. "I can't breathe--"

"He's going to hyperventilate, Albus," said McGonagall anxiously. "Can you--"

"I cannot do anything to get Tom out of Harry's mind," Dumbledore answered before McGonagall could finish her question. "It is something he must do himself."

Harry gripped his forehead tighter, sweat trickling down the side of his face. He forced himself to slow down his breathing, to calm his racing heart, try and think of anything that would keep Voldemort out of his mind.

Sirius...

Dumbledore...

I stole the Sorcerer's Stone right from under your nose...

You couldn't even manage to possess an eleven-year-old girl long enough to regain power...

You couldn't even manage to kill me when you had your band of Death Eaters, a newly regained body, and a wand in your hand...

You're no use to the world, you don't matter at all, you don't need to live, you don't deserve to live, you filthy--

Harry choked audibly. The pain had left. There was a slight ache in his chest, which he realised was misery, mixed with a drop of embarrassment.

"Good," Dumbledore said softly, "good. He has left. I cannot sense him in the room, nor do I see him in your eyes, Harry."

Harry wiped the sweat off his face. Remus squeezed his shoulder lightly before letting go. "I suppose he doesn't respond well to taunting," he said with amusement.

Dumbledore chuckled. "No, he doesn't. He wasn't very popular at school, and doesn't like being teased."

Harry snorted. "The great and powerful Voldemort--"

"Don't say his name," Malfoy interrupted. Harry glanced at him, and saw that he was paler than usual. "Please don't. I just got the Mark. You're making it worse."

"You got the Mark?" Harry exclaimed loudly. Every person around the table immediately hushed him.

"Draco is contacting us from Malfoy Manor," Tonks hissed. "We don't know if Lucius could be listening in. If he hears your voice..." She made a slicing movement across her throat with a forefinger. Harry swallowed.

"It gets worse than that," said Malfoy grimly. "I think something's happened to Professor Snape."

"Snape?" Harry said quickly. "Why? What's wrong?"

"I pretended that I felt sick after my father brought me out of the cabin the meeting took place in," Malfoy explained, "so that I could buy a couple minutes of time."

"Why would it matter if--" Harry began, but Tonks cut him off.

"If people Apparate sick or injured, it's more likely that they splinch," she said. "And since Draco can't Apparate by himself, Lucius has a chance of getting himself splinched as well."

Harry nodded to show he understood, and looked back at Malfoy.

"Yeah, so I sat down on a tree stump for a little while, you know, to calm my 'aching stomach'. I looked to see if Snape was all right, but he didn't leave the cabin. I saw two shadows on the wall though, and it didn't look too good. It looked like the Dark Lord was choking him."

"Is he dead?" Harry demanded.

"Not that I know of," Malfoy answered. He looked at Dumbledore. "How was that for my very first report? Do I get a cookie?"

Dumbledore smiled gently. "Thank you, Draco. Have you tried to get in contact with Severus?"

"I'm afraid to do so. Lucius had to go and speak with Crabbe and Goyle--seeing as how they're bloody idiots and in hiding, he has to check up on them every once in awhile--so I have the house to myself for about an hour. However, if Professor Snape is still with the Dark Lord and if I try and contact him..." His voice trailed off uncertainly.

"I understand," Dumbledore said solemnly. "I will try and find a way to locate Severus...Draco, if you need help at the Manor--"

"I won't," Malfoy cut in. "Lucius is ecstatic. I don't need help."

Dumbledore nodded. "Of course. Thank you, Draco."

"It was my pleasure, Professor," Malfoy said dryly. His head vanished from the fireplace, leaving only the flickering flames behind.

"What are we going to do?" Harry asked immediately, looking straight into Dumbledore's crystal blue eyes. "About Snape?"

"Severus can take care of himself, Harry," said Dumbledore calmly. "He has been in situations like this before, and has always come out fine. He does not need our help."

* * *

"ARRRRGHHHH!"

Apparently, Severus did need their help.

The force of the Dark Lord's spell threw his head back, hitting the stone walls of the dungeon. He could feel blood trickling down his neck from the open wound. The small, barred window beside him let in a burst of cold air every now and then, making the hairs on the back of his neck rise. His hands were chained above his head, the rusty metal digging into his bloodied wrists. The wand that had been safely tucked away in an inside pocket of his robes was now in pieces upon the floor, along with his robes; he was against the wall in an undershirt boxers. His ankles were also bound in the same way as his hands, and the circulation was being cut off.

However, the pins and needles feeling was the least of his problems.

"Tell me why!" the Dark Lord demanded. He flicked his wand, making the pain slip back into Severus's body. "Why were you giving Draco an Occlumency lesson just before his initiation ceremony? Tell me now!"

"Because," Severus gasped, "I needed--no, he needed--to be safe from--from Dumbledore...He has powerful Legilimency skills, too, my Lord."

The Dark Lord lowered his wand. Severus kept his eyes on the floor.

"It is a good excuse, Severus...I shall accept it."

"Thank you, my Lord."

"However, you did it without my orders..."

Severus tensed.

"Severus, I think you will recall this curse," the Dark Lord sneered, and he raised his wand again. Pointing it at Severus's torso, he bellowed, "Viscus dolor!"

A stream of light flew from the end of the Dark Lord's wand and hit Severus straight in the stomach. He was immediately overcome with pain, like the Cruciatus Curse, but in one specific part of the body--Oh, how it burned like hell--He was bleeding, he could feel the shirt growing soaking wet with blood--The pain was unbearable, he could feel hear himself screaming--

Then it was gone.

Severus's shoulders sagged, his body hanging uselessly on the chains. The Dark Lord let out a long, cruel laugh.

"Ah, yes. It does hurt, doesn't it? An invention of my own...It does have my signature written all over it, doesn't it? It causes pain...No way to stop it unless the person who cast it knows how..." He sighed. "Draco surely must have been in pain after that...Just as you are now..."

"He took the pain," Severus mumbled. "I assume you meant for Potter to curse Draco?"

"Yes...not only would Harry realise that someone was controlling him, but others would find him untrustworthy...and Draco would be liked, because he took the pain so well...And, of course, I wanted to be sure my new recruit could take pain..."

Severus pondered this (a little tricky, seeing as how his head was pounding unbearably) for a moment. The Dark Lord had wanted Potter to curse Draco. It had worked. Oh, Potter better stay at Hogwarts when Dumbledore brought him, where he was safe...

"I suppose we'll have to resort to the old ways of torture," the Dark Lord was saying.

"You wouldn't use Muggle ways," Severus slurred, spitting blood onto the floor. "You wouldn't sink that low."

"You're right, Severus," the Dark Lord said lazily. "I suppose I'll just have to use what I did in the good old days, shall I?"

He raised his wand. Severus closed his eyes and braced himself for the pain.

"Crucio!"

* * *

Professor McGonagall, Tonks, and Dumbledore had left Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place after a few minutes of convincing Harry that, yes, Snape would be all right in the clutches of the most evil wizard since Grindelwald. Dumbledore had told Harry that he would be back early in the morning to bring him to Hogwarts, and, with a tip of his hat, left after the young Auror and Transfiguration Professor.

Mr. and Mrs. Weasley had gone up to bed, but Harry continued to pace the kitchen floor anxiously. Remus stayed downstairs with him, watching with worried eyes and a complex expression.

"Harry, Severus will be fine," Remus said calmly. Harry paused in his pacing to look at his guardian, who continued, "As Dumbledore said, he's been in much worse situations than this. He will be fine."

"It just...doesn't feel right," admitted Harry. "Just not right. I don't like it." He started his pacing again. "He's been in my head so much this summer, and I've learned a bunch of things about his past--"

"Like what?" Remus interrupted, looking intrigued. Harry ignored him.

"--so a little bit of him is here." Harry tapped his temple. "And it doesn't feel right."

"What do you mean, you learned about his past?" Remus persisted.

"Just...just some stuff," Harry said awkwardly. He didn't want to tell Remus about things that Snape certainly didn't want blabbed about.

"Was it about Lily?" asked Remus quietly.

"Yeah," Harry said, stopping again and watching his shoes, "part of it was, yeah."

Remus rubbed his chin with a thumb. "I can't believe I never knew...I knew Lily as well as James did--and he knew her pretty well--and I understood that she was friends with Severus...I could smell him on her all the time...But I had no idea--"

"That they shagged a lot?" Harry suggested.

"Well, yes."

"Yeah. A bit of a surprise to me, too," Harry said dryly. He thrust his hands deep into his pockets. "This thing with Snape being held prisoner..."

"We don't know that," said Remus firmly. "For all we know, he could just be not able to contact us."

Harry took his hands out of his pockets and ran them through his hair, making it stick up in the back like his father's had. "I just feel so helpless!" he moaned, gripping locks of his jet-black hair. "I can't do anything to help!"

"You can do something," said Remus, growing sterner. "You can go upstairs, go to sleep, and stop worrying over this. You do not need to be the hero for everyone, Harry."

Harry jerked as though he had been stabbed in the chest. "If you're suggesting that I'm going to be responsible for Snape's death just like Sirius," he said slowly, "you're wrong. I'm not going to run out and save him. Am I allowed to be worried about someone without you babysitting me?"

"Harry--" Remus began to say, but Harry was already on a roll and he wasn't going to stop.

"Shut up," he growled. "Shut your werewolf mouth shut. I don't want to hear anything from you. You aren't Sirius, and you're making it worse because you're trying to be him by attempting to protect me."

Remus opened his mouth, but closed it. He suddenly looked wounded, his jaw clamped shut and tears prickling the corners of his eyes, his lips set in a grim line. His face was tight in the effort not to show emotion, but it was as though there was a huge sign above his head declaring his feelings.

Harry realized he had said too much. He took a hesitant step forward, saying, "Remus, I'm--"

"Don't bother," Remus said in a strangled voice, "don't bother. I-I understand. I'm not Sirius, and I never will be able to replace him."

"No, Remus, I didn't mean to--"

Remus turned his back on him, facing the stove. Harry stood, his own eyes beginning to tickle with tears. "Remus," he said softly, taking another step.

Remus didn't respond, but Harry could see his shoulders shaking.

"Remus," he said again, taking a few more strides. "Remus."

Harry's hand was trembling as he reached out to touch his Remus's shoulder. The older wizard flinched, but he did not push the hand away. He rested his head in his own hands, covering his face.

"I'm sorry," Harry said hoarsely. He gripped Remus's shoulder tighter. "I'm sorry...I can't believe I said that...It slipped out...I'm so sorry...I didn't mean it at all...I'm sorry..."

"It's okay," said Remus quietly. "I know I'm not Sirius--"

"But you're still you," Harry cut in.

"But I'm not Sirius," Remus repeated. "And I won't ever be."

Harry bit his lip nervously. Remus stood up abruptly, causing Harry's elbow joint to crack uncomfortably as his arm was jerked upwards.

"But I hope I can be a good enough replacement," Remus said softly. He swept Harry into a rough hug, squeezing his ribs sharply. "I'm sure that Severus will be perfectly fine."

The hug felt very fatherly, which meant that it felt odd and unknown to Harry, who had never had a father figure except for Sirius, and he didn't do much physical contact. He wasn't used to warm hugs, except from Hermione. He wasn't used to the feeling of people telling him that it was going to be all right, that he and everyone else was going to be all right...And it felt good.

"I still don't understand why you're so worried about Severus," Remus said, his fingers pressed into Harry's back. "You've hated him for years..."

"I've spent a lot of time with him this summer," Harry answered. "I suppose he's grown on me." He chuckled. "But I do feel like he's not okay right now..."

"He'll be fine," Remus insisted. "No need to run out and play hero now, Harry."

He pressed his lips on Harry's forehead lightly, held him away from himself at arms length, and sighed. "Harry, you certainly have grown from the baby boy I held in my arms in the hospital...And from the determined thirteen-year-old I once taught. You've grown into a man."

Harry pulled away. "I'm going to go to sleep."

"What a wonderful idea! I wonder who thought of that first?"

Harry rolled his eyes, but walked up the stone steps to the room he and Ron shared. His best friend was sitting up in bed, anxiously rubbing his hands together. He looked up when he saw Harry enter the room.

"Hey," Ron said quietly.

"I'm sorry," Harry said automatically. "I completely lost it, and I'm sorry. I just had a complete nervous breakdown, and I'm sorry."

"It's okay," said Ron quickly. "You're allowed to freak out once in awhile. Just try and warn us, will you?" He smiled weakly.

Harry settled himself into bed, pulling the blankets up over his chest. "I'm sorry," he repeated, and closed his eyes. "I've done a lot of apologizing today."

"I suppose there's the proof that V-V-V-Voldemort isn't in your mind," mumbled Ron, stuttering a bit on Tom Riddle's nickname.

Harry sat bolt upright in bed. "You said his name!"

A lopsided smile appeared on Ron's freckled face. "Yeah, I've been practicing."

"Good," said Harry with satisfaction, "good, Ron, that's fantastic. Fear of a name only increases fear of the thing itself."