Unlikely Connections

Chapter Thirteen - La Danse Macabre: A Slip, a Trip, and a Fall

Severus's body felt like lead. He had made this journey far too many times. But one thing was different tonight. Her face still swam across his eyes, just at the edges of his vision. He could still feel her mind within his, trying to stay his nerves. He knew, without remark, that she was 'walking' him to the gates. As he marched silently into the ebony shadows that were now engulfing the grounds, he reflected again on her face. There was a bright light behind her eyes that illuminated her features with intelligence and wit beyond her years. How quickly that light had flickered at the sight of him in that monstrous garb.

He had told himself that it was horror that had painted her face next. It was too much to imagine that the fear that threatened to melt into panic was concern for him. Concern for him was non-existent. Had been since before ...

Lily's face washed up behind his eyes as he plodded through the gates. Her face melted to become Hermione's, which disappeared to reveal his own. On the other side of the gates, he spared a glance back towards the castle as he felt her mind slip free from his. He was carrying into battle the worst thoughts one could possess when faced with the person he was about to meet.

With a muffled crack, he Apparated into the deepening night.

****

Severus dared to glance around him once the ground seemed steady beneath his feet. The dark woods, deep velvets, and distinct smell of old wealth were unfortunately familiar to him. A musty smell of old spell books permeated the air. He wasn't surprised that the Malfoy manner was chosen for tonight's gathering.

Discomfort amongst the luxuries of comfort, he thought viciously. The Dark Lord enjoys these morbid puns.

"You're late," a high-pitched voice hissed. "Decidedly so."

Severus spun again quickly and collapsed to the ground in a prostrated crouch as he found himself face-to-face with Voldemort. He fixed his eyes on the floor, carefully guarding his mind to reveal nothing when he rose.

"Stand," the Dark Lord spoke, curtly. After a moment of tense silence and intense stares, he continued, "Explain."

"Detention, my Lord," he responded confidently. "A mudblood who was annoyingly hard to get rid of, as you can imagine."

Followed by the guffaws of the rest of the Death Eaters, Voldemort chuckled briefly, and Severus took the momentary reprieve from his stare to scan the room. He was now surrounded by a tight circle of Voldemort's followers. Much to his surprise, however, they were in a rather high state of dress, as if this were a formal celebration. Yet Severus had not been informed. The bottom of his stomach seemed to drop away. He had failed at something.

Voldemort silenced the group with a cold stare that raced the length of the heavily furnished study. The air chilled noticeably. "Do you know why I have called you here this evening, Severus?"

Voldemort was ignoring the rest of the Death Eaters. It seemed that they were not called tonight to be a supporting group, but an audience. His nerves jangled. "No, milord," he answered dutifully, the words sour upon his tongue.

Voldemort gestured vaguely over his shoulder and Malfoy emerged from the crowd, his smile glittering as coldly as his penetrating grey eyes. "Lucius tells me that Hogwarts is having a dance for the older students for Halloween, Severus."

"Yes, milord," he responded, fighting the urge to run. He wasn't sure where this line of questioning was going, but he was sure that it was no place good.

"Is there any reason I should have been told of this dance, Severus?"

"I ... don't know, milord."

Lucius was beginning to smile even more widely. Definitely not a good sign.

"Lucius tells me that the dance is not taking place at the school, Severus. Crucio!"

The porcelain mask slipped from Severus's hand and crashed to the floor as he shuddered from the curse.

"The dance is taking place at The Three Broomsticks, Severus. Do you know what that means, Severus?"

"No, milord," he replied, crouched in pain.

"Crucio! Why did you not tell me about this dance, Severus? Crucio! Why did you not tell me that it was not at Hogwarts, Severus? Crucio!"

His body was now twitching against the warm wooden floorboards. "I didn't know, milord," he whimpered.

Voldemort stooped to grab Severus's face and force his eyes to meet the murderous stare. "How could you not know? Crucio! What purpose are you? Crucio! Answer me!"

He moaned in pain, the Dark Lord's touch burning traces against his skin. "I'm a spy, milord," he choked out.

"And what good is a spy without vital information? Crucio!"

He writhed, vaguely registering the laughter of the other Death Eaters as they closed in over him, hungry for blood. Voldemort was now hovering, waiting for an answer. "None, milord. He's no good without information." Severus knew the phrase was his own death knell. He could only hope the end would be swift.

"I shall spare you tonight, Severus, for you shall be useful in the future. You have failed me but you will repay me by leading the attack on Three Broomsticks on Halloween. The students will be much easier to lead away without the protective charms of Hogwarts surrounding them. You will personally deliver Harry Potter to me, do you understand?"

"Yes, milord. Thank you, milord," he replied, still struggling at Voldemort's feet.

"But for now, we shall give you a reminder of how Lord Voldemort treats failure. And I believe I know just the person to remind you."

Snape grimaced. It was only too obvious that this had been preplanned.

"Lucius ..."

Malfoy eagerly stepped up next to him. "How may I serve you, my Lord?"

"I am exceedingly pleased with you this evening, Lucius. Lord Voldemort always remunerates for achievement and loyalty. How shall I reward you?"
He bowed gratefully before responding. "Allow me to suggest a reprimand for failure, milord?"

Voldemort nodded magnanimously.

"My son, Draco, has informed me that Severus has been spending a great deal of time with a young mudblood that is quite close to Mr. Potter. The one that detained him this evening, I believe."

Malfoy's eyes glittered dangerously as Severus's head jerked up in surprise. In that instant of unpreparedness, Voldemort's eyes locked onto Severus's and he could feel Voldemort rummaging within his head. A vision of Hermione molded against Severus's body, smoldering from his kiss, was plucked out and strung across his eyes.

"So I see," Voldemort replied. "I also see that he has a Comparis Animae connection with the girl. Dallying with a mudblood. Disgusting, Severus. Weak. Lord Voldemort does not appreciate weakness."

Severus remained huddled on the floor, his muscles still wracked with spasms. He would not return the Dark Lord's gaze. He would not allow himself to be intimidated in order to reach through to hurt Hermione.

Voldemort turned to Lucius and smoothly continued. "I cannot steal the girl from under Dumbledore's nose, Lucius. How does this help me?"

"I suggest, milord, that we simply show him how mudbloods are treated by loyal followers of the Dark Lord."

Voldemort grinned slowly, pondering the idea. "An excellent suggestion, Lucius. And perhaps, if we are lucky, we shall show her what happens to mudbloods in the presence of Lord Voldemort's followers as well. Another mistake, Severus, and she will be the first to die. Now, as for your reminder..."

No doubt at Lord Voldemort's bidding, several Death Eaters stepped forward from the tight circle that had grown around the commotion. Severus was not aware of their faces, only their feet, as he was still huddled on the floor. He felt himself being hoisted from the floor and yelled out when he was lifted bodily and slammed onto his back in the middle of the large meeting table in the center of the room. A quick glance told him that he was going to be this evening's show.

"You shall see, Severus," the Dark Lord hissed. "You have forgotten how mudbloods are treated by loyal followers. You need to be reminded."

Voldemort stood at the head of the table, looming over Severus's head. He placed his fingers on Severus's temples and Severus was washed over with such a feeling of cold that he was certain that the room had frosted over. He heard the Dark Lord mutter the words, "Aperire" and "Adnecto."

His mind was suddenly flooded with a view of the room that he couldn't possibly have. He could see all the Death Eaters standing over the table. And yet his own eyes were closed. And then suddenly flashing on his eyelids, he could see ... himself ... He suddenly realized that he was seeing what the Dark Lord was seeing. He heard chuckling around him as he struggled against the men who held him fast to the table.

"Not that easy, Severus," the Dark Lord jeered. "You shall see, and so will they. Prominentis!"

He could see without raising his head that the latest charm had served to reflect what he was seeing onto the wall of the room. He was being used as a sort of projector. Voldemort was going to force him to see something, which in turn, the Death Eaters would see as well. His whole body shook with his sense of foreboding.

Severus's field of vision, now splayed across his closed eyelids as well as the wall of the study, was suddenly flooded with an image of Hermione. His heart and stomach seemed to be chasing around his chest as it began to dawn on him what the 'reminder' might be. Hermione ... the Dark Lord was going to do something to Hermione ... But then he saw himself move into the picture. He was being overcome with a forced vision of himself and Hermione.

Severus strode towards her as she sat meekly on the sofa in his office, her hands folded but fidgeting in her lap. She was looking up at him, a quiver of fear pulling at her bottom lip as she chewed on it nervously. He sat next to her swiftly and could just barely hear his mumbled whispers near her cheek.

"You're going to have to pay for that outburst in your Potions lesson today, Miss Granger," his voice purred sleekly.

She did not speak but twitched slightly as he moved still closer. A few moments passed in tense silence as she tried hard not to look at him anymore. She crossed her ankles, causing the gray school skirt to pool in the slight gap between her thighs. His hand moved to where the skirt had been and gripped the inside of her leg.

"You must understand who is in charge here."

Severus squirmed emotionally as he heard the words echo in his head and in the room around him. He wouldn't ... he could never ... not to a student. He felt Voldemort's fingers begin to warm against the side of his temples but he had stopped trying to fight the punishment.

She wriggled in surprise and whimpered as his hand traveled up under her skirt. "Professor, what are you doing?"

"Teaching you a lesson, Miss Granger. One you will not forget."

He could feel the bile rising in his throat as it dawned on him the path that this vision was to take.

Voldemort muttered another charm. "Addere!"

Suddenly, Severus's hands began to tingle. He could actually feel her thighs beneath his hands, feel the crisp cotton of her panties as the Severus of Voldemort's imagination ripped them from her body. The hot rush of the Dream Hermione's panicked breath pulsed against his cold skin as Dream Severus's head bent to sink his teeth ruthlessly into her neck. He could taste her skin as Dream Severus's tongue licked out to soothe the bruised flesh, all the while feeling her hands pounding in steady rhythms against his chest. His heart raced under the invisible fists as her cries echoed in his head.

"Professor!" she cried as his hands plunged into her. She thrust the heels of her hands against his shoulders again and again, to no avail. He was too strong, too determined. "Professor, stop!"

A grim sneer graced Severus's face as he pushed her onto her back on the sofa and leaned against her. "Punishment, Miss Granger. You must be punished."

Her long, loud, agonized wail echoed sharply in the cold room. He could feel his body shake as he felt the imaginary clothing rip beneath his fingers. His heart screamed as he tried desperately to shut the real Hermione out of his mind. She must not see this ... she must not feel ...

He cried out in horrified shame as he felt himself grow aroused at the feeling of the Dream Hermione's body in his hands. He felt the slippery hotness of her against his groin. Feeling her warm wetness - her fear - roused desires and instincts in him that he had long since forced away. His obvious arousal had not escaped the notice of the Death Eaters assembled, and as they watched the imaginary yet strikingly violent assault on Hermione's person, the mass of figures cheered and hooted, goading Voldemort on in his vindictiveness.

His body echoed the response of the Dream Snape as the assailing of Dream Hermione's person was brought to a close. Severus could feel a liquidy slide that was the blood that coated Dream Snape's fingers and groin. Despite the fact that he knew Voldemort could go on despite Severus's 'finished' status, Severus found that it was past time for heroic strength and high time for him to give Voldemort what he wanted.

"Master," Severus whimpered, playing his part, "please stop. Please forgive me; I shall not fail you again."

Voldemort released his now searing fingers from Severus's temples and waved the restricting Death Eaters away. Humiliated, sore, and feeling soiled in every possible manner, Severus rolled over onto his stomach and slid from the table. He crouched again at the Dark Lord's feet and pleaded. "I'm so sorry to have failed you, Master. I have learned my lesson."

Voldemort delivered a vicious and well-placed kick to his ribcage but didn't lower his gaze to Severus, turning instead to a scowling Malfoy. "What say you, Lucius? Do you believe his punishment to be complete?"

Severus raised his eyes to meet Malfoy's gaze. The grey eyes blazed with hatred as they stared back into the deep black pools. "No, milord."

"No?" Voldemort questioned, feigning surprise. "What do you feel is left for him?"

"He has suffered mentally milord, but perhaps his body needs a reminder of what betrayers shall suffer."

Voldemort did not respond, but instead walked from the room with a grandiose sweep of his arms. Lucius waved his hands and Crabbe and Goyle, who had obviously been his previous captors, raised him from the floor. When he was as upright as possible, Lucius's hand slashed across his face. Severus felt a stinging trail of blood leak from a slice in his cheek caused by the ring on Lucius's pinky.

The voice that was as barren as his eyes pierced him. "Fellow Death Eaters, Severus needs to be reminded that those who do not give pain receive it."

And then they were upon him.