Stay Free

Chapter 15: Dark Revel

"I'm expected to attend a Dark Revel?" Draco sputtered. He looked frail and weak in the light coming in from the open window. A faint breeze fluttered his hair, and he angrily smoothed it back. "Why? I haven't even been a--a you-know-what for a couple of weeks! Why does Father want me to get started on this now?"

Severus sighed. He hadn't been truly for the idea of Draco becoming a spy for the Order in the first place, and now he was very much against it. The boy was too fragile for such an important job. But what's done is done, he thought grimly.

"Draco, when you agreed to this, you knew of the consequences. I know you will not enjoy it, and I'll let you know that it's not my favourite part of the job."

"Was it before?" the boy challenged. There wasn't a blink of pain in his expression as Madam Pomfrey tore out the stitches in his stomach. Either he was excelling in his self-taught Occlumency, or he really was as immune to pain as Lucius claimed. "Back when you were my age? Did you like it?"

"Yes." The nausea rose in Severus's body as he remembered the nights in the Malfoy's dungeons. The dismembered bodies; blood spilling onto the cold, stone floor; the cries of the innocent Muggles who had looked at Lucius the wrong way; the screams--

Draco looked surprised at Severus's honest answer. "Oh. Well, I suppose I'll have a try."

"I must warn you, Draco--" Severus paused and glanced up at Madam Pomfrey. She scurried away at the dark glare he gave her. "As I was saying, you must know that this is not something you can grow to enjoy. It may seem pleasurable in the beginning, but I am advising you to not do anything, unless your father or I tell you. There will be...women. Muggles, mostly." He paused again, but Draco's expression was blank. "Please don't get...erm, attached to them. They will most likely die in the end."

"I thought it was Avery who did the sex spells," said Draco, looking rather cool and composed despite the fact he was discussing rape. "And the binding curses. All that Dark Arts stuff I shouldn't know about."

"Avery does prefer that sort of thing--"

"But will I be encouraged to join in on the fun?" Draco cut in. The calm look was slowly stripping away, and a sliver of fear showed in his eyes.

"Yes. Avery will certainly approve of you if you...join in. And Lucius will probably expect you to be involved in some sort of torture--"

"What provoked you to do this in the first place?" Draco interrupted again. "Becoming a Death Eater, I mean."

"Your father's approval," Severus answered stiffly, deliberately looking away. This was not something he wanted to discuss something with Draco. "Safety. And power. Power was something I had been craving for awhile...not to mention respect." He focused his eyes upon Draco's. "I must impress the seriousness of this, Draco. This event will disgust and revolt you, and will most likely result in horrific nightmares. But you must do it, for the Order. Just think of something else while it's going on, all right?"

Draco nodded. "When are we going?"

"Tonight."

* * *

Harry watched in amusement as Malfoy attempted to walk across the hospital wing. His knees buckled, and he clutched his godfather's arm for support. Snape grimaced, but pulled Malfoy up and kept a firm grim on his shoulder. "Now, Draco, let's see if you can walk without throwing up. Very impressive, that would be," Snape was saying as he led the younger boy over to the door. Harry held it open. "Thank you, Potter."

"Pleasure," said Harry mockingly. He shut the door behind him and followed the two Slytherins down the corridor. All three walked in silence until they reached Snape's room.

"I've kept your things down here, Draco," said Snape, rummaging through a drawer in his desk, "in hope that nobody will find your mask."

"Your mask," Malfoy corrected. He was standing beside a chair, gripping the back for aid. Harry, lying down on one of the couches, cocked an eyebrow. Malfoy saw it, and smirked. "Yes, Potter. I'm getting hand-me-down Death Eater outfits from our Potions Professor. It's frightening, isn't it?"

"Somewhat," Harry agreed. He laced his fingers together behind his head, sinking into the leather comfortably. "You two leaving soon?"

"Yes. Lucius likes his guests to arrive early," answered Snape, pulling a white mask out of the drawer and tossing it to Malfoy. He caught it, looking green.

"I thought you didn't leave until later tonight," said Harry.

"We don't. But as Draco can't Apparate in his condition, and I'm not making an illegal Portkey, we're going to have to take other type of transportation to Wiltshire. Dumbledore could probably get us a carriage for the trip."

Snape found another mask and tucked it into his pocket. He took a candlestick off the table. It joined the mask, to Harry's confusion.

"Potter, you are to stay here. Dumbledore is at headquarters, waiting for word from Lupin, and this is the safest place in Hogwarts. Except for the Headmaster's office, but Fudge pops in there every once in awhile, and I'm sure you don't want to speak with the Minister."

"All right."

"You will not go into my bedroom, my lab, or try and find the grade I gave you for last year's term," continued Snape. "Nor do I want you poking around."

Harry shrunk back in guilt at the look Snape gave him. Malfoy looked bewildered at the statement, but shook his head to himself and tucked his mask more securely in his pocket.

"All right," Harry repeated. "Is that all, sir?"

"I think so...Oh!" Snape dug into the pockets of his robes, pulling out a stack of parchment. Harry brightened at the sight of them, and stood up. "Black's letters. I thought you wouldn't want to leave them scattered around the hospital wing for everyone to see."

"Thanks a lot," said Harry graciously, taking the letters from Snape's outstretched hand. "I don't want anyone to read them."

No words were spoken for a few awkward, uncomfortable minutes. Malfoy didn't seem eager to leave, but Snape was looking at the door. The latter cleared his throat and said, "We should be going now, Draco."

"Okay," said Malfoy. He was pale and sickly-looking; his skin was tinged an unhealthy yellow. He also looked like he was going to vomit the instant he moved. Harry slowly backed away to the couch, just in case. "Good day, Potter."

"Same to you, Malfoy."

"Try not to break anything, Mr. Potter."

"I'll try, Professor."

Both wizards exited the room, leaving Harry alone in Snape's private quarters for the second time that month. He considered searching the man's other rooms, but decided that was too much of an invasion of privacy. If Ron were here, Harry decided, he would do it. Snooping wasn't fun if you were alone.

Sighing, Harry took his previous seat and looked down at the letters in his lap. He didn't feel like reading them anymore. He wanted to practice his wandless magic again. The sudden burst of strength in him had died out now, and he wanted it back.

"You will not practice hexes and any other difficult spells wandless without the Headmaster's supervision," Snape's voice rang in his head.

Harry smiled inwardly. Any other difficult spells? But that didn't mean simple things, like Summoning Charms, right?

"Right," he whispered to himself, and began looking around the room for something to summon. There were books, but Harry didn't trust magical books, especially if they were in Snape's personal library. His eyes drifted to the desk. A quill. Perfect.

Remembering that Snape had said Dark Magic was generated by his emotions, Harry focused all his strength upon his anger. Sirius being dead, not being able to talk to Ron and Hermione until term started, Dumbledore not telling him about the prophecy earlier, his father's arrogance as a student, why hadn't anyone told him about his mother and Snape, Sirius and Remus--

The pressure built and built, growing higher and higher as the knot in his stomach twisted and twisted. Harry thrust his hand at the quill and hollered, "Accio quill!"

It zoomed straight into his hand. Harry caught it deftly, smiling. He liked succeeding. Especially with something new. It's dangerous, added the little voice in his head. Illegal. Addicting. Could become a bad habit.

"Habits can be broken," Harry told himself sternly.

* * *

Night fell as Severus and Draco arrived at Malfoy Manor, somewhat shaken from the amount of wards they had to pass through. It was one of the few times Severus had been glad of his past as a faithful Death Eater; being able to get through the most difficult wards was his specialty. The Aurors that were stationed at various points around the house added to their worry of being caught. Severus was beginning to owe a number of favours for Kingsley Shacklebolt, who had been kind enough to let him know where each Auror was posted.

They left the thestral-drawn carriage by the door, hidden by layers of Invisibility Spells. Severus led the way to the door, Draco trailing behind nervously.

"Loosen up," Severus muttered as he rang the doorbell. "You cannot allow yourself to be nervous. Occupy yourself with something else if you can't stand the events that will occur."

Draco nodded, the colour rapidly fading from his cheeks. He stared at the door to his home, swallowing anxiously. "I think I'm going to be sick, sir."

"Don't be."

The door opened. Lucius Malfoy, carrying a bottle of red wine in one hand and a bloodied knife in the other, smiled and beckoned for them to come in. Draco stared at his father.

"Macnair arrived first," Lucius explained, gesturing to the knife with the bottle. "He brought a couple Muggle prostitutes with him. Lovely looking girls, really. One in particular. Talented mouth." He winked openly at his son, who looked queasy. "I apologise, Severus. She did not stay alive long enough for you."

"You know I do not participate in these activities, Lucius," said Severus smoothly, one hand on his godson's shoulder. Don't throw up, don't throw up. "Rape is Avery's area of expertise."

"Ah, yes. He should be arriving shortly."

"Excellent." Calm, calm. Breathe in, breathe out. Inhale through the nose, out through the mouth.

"Draco, I want you to show me what you can do," Lucius was saying. He extended his hand down the corridor, where a faint moaning was drifting towards their ears. "I'm confident you can keep this blonde one alive for quite a bit...Perhaps even beat Severus's record, eh?"

Draco's nauseous look intensified. "What, exactly, is Professor Snape's record, Father?" he asked, his voice quavering slightly.

Lucius laughed. "That is a discussion for another time, Draco...Come along, both of you. Wine, Severus?"

"Please."

Lucius whistled sharply. A house-elf, shorter than usual and with rather large ears, appeared at his side momentarily, shaking from head to toe.

"Yes, Master?" it squeaked, staring down at Lucius's feet.

"Bring a couple more glasses into the study," Lucius ordered, waving his hand at the house-elf dismissively. "Quickly. More people will be arriving."

"Yes, Master," it replied immediately, and disappeared with a small pop!

"I've saved the best wine for you, Severus," continued Lucius. He began to walk down to the study, Severus and Draco by his side. "There are only two hundred bottles of it, and I have a case of it."

Severus made a noncommittal sound as they turned down a corridor. He allowed Lucius to enter the room first, then pretended to be searching for something in his robes.

"Will we be needing our masks, sir?" Draco inquired softly, one eye on Severus and the other on his father, who was pouring a generous amount of wine into Macnair's glass.

"If you plan to keep one alive, yes," answered Severus, casting his eyes away from the horror inside the room. "That way, they can't identify you." He swallowed the vile taste in his mouth, then looked back at Draco. "Are you ready?"

Draco nodded. "I'll try."

"Then let's go."

Severus stepped into the room first, Draco shadowing his steps. A house-elf appeared at his side and handed him a glass of wine, which he took gratefully. Alcohol often dulled the pain, and left blank spots in his memories. Blank spots meant less nightmares, and less nightmares meant a few more years sane.

"Oy! Draco!" called Macnair from an armchair in the corner, grinning widely. A small, naked blonde woman--Merlin, she couldn't have been more than fourteen--was sitting on his lap, stroking his chest. "Come take a look!"

Draco automatically looked at Severus, who jerked his head slightly. He cleared his throat before walking over to Macnair, who was laughing loudly. Obviously, he had begun drinking before he had arrived.

"Bella! Do come in!" he heard Lucius say. "No Rodolphus tonight? Pity, pity...Oh, we'll be all right without him. Come on in, Sinky will get you a drink."

Bella sashayed into the room, dragging someone behind her by the back of his jacket. Severus inclined his head to her, and she waved briefly before beginning her work on the man on the floor. He turned away, straining his ears to hear Lucius at the door.

"I see you've brought a couple things with you, Dolohov...You can throw those three in the dungeons, we'll deal with them later...Yes, wake them up once they're caged...Avery's on his way, you say? Perfect...He can teach Draco what he knows, Macnair's already got him with a blonde bird in the back..."

Severus swallowed the vomit that had come up into his throat. Be strong, he urged himself. Weak people never survive in this world. Survival of the fittest.

"It's a shame, Severus," said Lucius sadly, coming up behind him and placing a hand on his shoulder. "There's only a few of us...We won't be able to have the fun we had in the old days, eh?"

"It is a shame, Lucius," said Severus neutrally. He took another sip of wine. "I'm afraid you'll have to give Draco more lessons, if he is to start enjoying his work."

A high-pitched scream broke their conversation. Severus automatically looked for the source of the sound, and saw Bellatrix dragging her wand down the man's back. As the wand touched his skin, it broke open. He was gripping the bookcase, begging for mercy as the blood trickled down his skin, soaking his jeans. Bellatrix laughed at his pleading, but took the wand away. The man was nearly to tears with relief, and he fell to his knees. Severus looked away as, "Crucio!" fell from the witch's lips.

"There's a new potion I'd like you to try out for me, Severus," began Lucius, refilling his wine glass. "It sends tiny curses into the victim's body once it has contact with skin. These curses, called the Parker Plague, slowly eat away at the person's body systems, particularly the nervous system and the digestive tract. It's certainly unpleasant; in fact, it's nearly unbearable for the victim."

"The Parker Plague?" Severus repeated, feigning confusion. He knew Lucius enjoyed explaining things to other people, as it made him feel more intelligent. "I've never heard of it."

"It's named after the man who created them, Charles Parker. He was a Squib scientist, who used his knowledge of wizarding potion ingredients to create painkillers for a pharmacy. He became increasingly interested in other means of work, and invented the Parker Plague. He enjoyed testing various types of his work on unsuspecting Muggles. Their living relatives eventually pressed charges. He was caught by the Muggle Aurors and sentenced to life in prison for the murders."

"You should have been a teacher, Lucius," Severus complimented, lathering his words with praise and awe. Lucius enjoyed approval, and the more, the better.

"Thank you, Severus. Now, will you inspect this potion for me? I've tried to recreate his work, but I have the feeling something's missing. I tested it on a Muggle man yesterday, but it didn't have the effect I was hoping for."

"Of course," said Severus, setting down his drink on the table. Macnair and Draco were still speaking, but the blonde wasn't in the room. He guessed that she was in one of the attaching rooms to the study, normally used by Avery. "Would you like me to take it back to Hogwarts, or would you prefer me to work on it here?"

"Hogwarts," replied Lucius, downing another gulp of alcohol. Severus noticed that he had moved from wine to scotch. "You have your lab there, and it's probably safer. I'll give it to you before you and Draco leave, and you will bring it to our next meeting."

Severus bowed his head. Voldemort obviously wanted the potion. Lucius never asked for anything; he demanded it. "I'll do my best, Lucius."

"Have a good evening, friend," the other man said, and he walked away to Bella, who was patiently removing layers of skin from the man's thighs. He had given up on screaming now. Severus looked away, reciting the ingredients to a Deflating Draught in his head to calm himself down. When the nausea had slowly died away, he began to look for Draco.

To answer his unspoken question, Macnair came to his side. He looked excited, a smile hidden under his thick, black moustache.

"I've got Draco with that blonde," he said, his speech slurred and his eyes unusually bright. "She's taken a liking to him. Handsome young man, isn't he?"

"Indeed," said Severus, just to be saying something. He glanced down at the other man, who was eyeing Bella's backside approvingly. "What have you got Draco doing?"

Macnair shrugged, his eyes still on Bella. "I gave him a few ideas and told him to experiment. He looked intrigued by some of the things." About to empty his stomach, more like, Severus thought. "Anyway, Snape, how about you use a bit of those Burning Hexes on that man Bella's workin' with? With most of his skin removed, that should hurt like a--"

"You know torture isn't my field," Severus interrupted. "I do the logic. Figuring out wards. Making potions. I do the occasional kill, but only if necessary. I'm supposed to be working for Dumbledore, remember? I've got to keep my reputation."

"What reputation?" Macnair snorted.

"Exactly." Severus took a seat. Macnair, deaf to his silent pleas, took the one opposite. "I prefer to keep myself off the Ministry's Possible Death Eaters List, thank you very much."

Macnair laughed at that. "I'm sure you do, Snape."

"As am I."

The faint sound of a door opening caught Severus's attention. Draco, his face slightly pink, had exited one of the attaching rooms. His hand was shaking as he smoothed down his hair.

"Draco!" Macnair exclaimed, grabbing the boy's upper arm and yanking him down to an empty chair. Draco's body convulsed at the sudden movement, and he pressed a hand against his mouth. He swallowed, and disgust drifted across his face before he put on the hard mask.

"That curse you told me about worked," said Draco, his voice weak. He flattened his hair again. "Too well, in fact. It's...erm...a bit of a mess in there..."

Macnair beamed. "That's the point, lad!"

"I wish you had told me before." Draco was looking increasingly queasy as the conversation progressed. His eyes flicked to Severus every once in awhile, pleading for escape. "It was a...rather big surprise."

"Sorry," said Macnair, sounding almost apologetic. He placed a hand on Draco's shoulder, an almost fatherly gesture. "But tell me...did you get to--"

"Draco!" Lucius cried out, cutting Macnair off as he walked over to his son. "Has my friend here taught you anything worthwhile?"

"Indeed, Father," said Draco meekly. The pink had fallen from his face, and he was completely white now. "Feel free to take a look."

"Lead me to it, son."

Draco's body shook again at his father's statement. Severus decided to step in.

"Draco, why don't we go down to the dungeons? Dolohov dropped a few Muggles down there, and I'm sure your father wouldn't find this evening at all satisfactory if you didn't learn how to use the Unforgivables before your sixth year."

Draco's head jerked up, and his eyes almost began tearing with relief. Lucius, thankfully, was inspecting his bottle of scotch, and he didn't notice. He did, however, nod his approval.

"Excellent idea, Severus. It'll be like old times, won't it?"

"It will. We'll be back shortly, Lucius." Severus grasped Draco's shoulder and led him away from the room. The instant the door to the study had closed, Draco was bent at the waist, vomiting into the corner of the corridor. His body shook with each retch. Severus waited until he was done, then waved his hand at the mess. It disappeared.

"I think," Draco began, wiping his mouth with the sleeve of his robes, "I'm going to take a leaf out of your book and not eat anything before going to these things."

"I agree," said Severus dryly. "What curse did Macnair recommend?"

Draco shrugged. "I don't know. It was Dark, I know that. Just told me the incantation and how to wave my wand. I didn't expect her to--to--" His face twisted, and he shut his eyes.

"Go on, Draco. Get it out."

"I didn't expect her to be torn, limb by limb, and have her various body parts be thrown around the room," Draco blurted out. He opened his eyes. Guilt, fear, and anger were flashing in them. "God, I feel ill. I've done Dark Magic. I could go to Azkaban for that curse, minimum of three months. I didn't even know I could do that kind of magic! I need to take a bath..."

"I'll start preparing some Anti-Nausea Potions for you once we get back," Severus decided. "That'll help. Are you feeling well enough to walk?"

Draco nodded. "Are we going down to the dungeons?"

"Yes. I'm afraid you will be learning how to use the Imperious Curse tonight, if I find any of the hostages well enough." As they walked, Severus's stomach twisted into knots. What if one of the Muggles Dolohov had captured was actually a Ministry official? What if one of them recognized him? What if the Aurors invaded Malfoy Manor? He had seen the inside of Azkaban before, and he didn't ever want to return. "The Headmaster has given me permission. Lucius will want you to learn, as will the Dark Lord. Once you start going on missions for him, you'll be expected to use Unforgivables."

Draco had paled. "Will I go to Azkaban?"

"Surely not. There are plenty of Aurors in Dumbledore's old crowd, and many of them have close connections with the Minister. It would probably get filed away as a misunderstanding, if anything."

Draco looked relieved. "Good."

They had entered the dungeons. Draco led the way down the nearly pitch-black corridor to the holding cells, Severus trailing behind with his wand out. He hadn't yet decided what to do with the hostages. If there was a child there, certainly he would let him or her free. A young woman; perhaps. Adults could take care of themselves. Dolohov never killed his victims, but instead preferred to bring them to the brink of death and terrorize them with the thought of it.

"Here they are," Draco whispered. There was a faint scraping sound. "Where's my wand--Bollocks--oh, here it is...Lumos."

Light burst from the tip of his wand, illuminating the three people in a small cage. They were huddled together in the corner, obviously cold. Severus could hear their teeth chattering. Draco looked at him, needing some help. Severus nodded.

"Hey," said Draco softly. "Hey. Can you come closer?"

Nothing. No one moved.

"Please? We're not going to hurt you. Just come closer, and I'll see what I can do to help you."

Hesitantly, the largest shape moved towards them slowly. He was a tall, somewhat muscled dark-skinned man. Intelligence gleamed in his light brown eyes. He was clutching his stomach with both arms, and he walked with a slight limp. As he reached the end of the cage, he lifted his arms from his stomach and gripped the bars.

"My name's David," he said hoarsely. His forearms were bleeding freely. "Can you help us? Please?"

"Perhaps," said Draco anxiously. He peered over David's shoulder. "Who else is back there?"

"A woman and a young boy," David answered. "Do you--"

"Yes," Severus interrupted. "Bring them over here."

David eyed him suspiciously, but he turned around and gestured slightly with his right hand. There was a scuttling sound, punctuated by a faint hiss of pain. Two more people appeared on each side of him.

The woman--no, she was more of a girl--was short and plump, with reddish brown hair that fell to her shoulders and freckles across her cheeks. She hugged herself, biting her lip and looking down at her bare feet. The stylish dress she was wearing was ripped down the side, displaying bruised skin. She looked about the age of the blonde, and Severus wondered if they had been friends.

The boy was hiding behind the girl, clutching her upper arm. Severus couldn't see his face, nor could he tell anything about the boy, except that he wore a pair of blue jeans. Yet, he looked strangely familiar...

"Boy," Severus snapped. The dark head peeked above the girl's arm. Surprised eyes stared back at him, and Severus felt his stomach drop. It was like looking into a mirror, staring at those eyes...

"Professor Snape?" said Draco uncertainly. "Are you all right?"

Severus ignored his godson, still staring. His stomach dropped another inch as the boy removed himself carefully from the girl's arm. He gazed, open-mouthed.

Wiping his tearstained face, Mark Evans stared back.