Rating:
PG-13
House:
Schnoogle
Ships:
Lucius Malfoy/Severus Snape
Characters:
Severus Snape
Genres:
Alternate Universe Slash
Era:
The First War Against Voldemort (Cir. 1970-1981)
Spoilers:
Philosopher's Stone
Stats:
Published: 04/22/2006
Updated: 11/15/2006
Words: 133,299
Chapters: 24
Hits: 12,488

Snape the Younger

Les Dowich

Story Summary:
COMPLETE. Severus Snape came from somewhere; he didn't just appear at Hogwarts. We have had hints of his back story but no one really knows it. How did he get to be a snarky bastard? Why? Who knows, besides JK Rowling? So, this series of short chapter/stories explores the possibilities which include Potions College, Malfoys, The Dark Lord and even Remus Lupin, as well as a growing conviction that the world is not a nice place.

Chapter 05 - The Price of Favour

Posted:
06/11/2006
Hits:
548


The Price of Favour

(Quick insert: Yes, I know what canon says about Abraxas but not yet, I need him to be ill at this point and Dragon Pox just doesn't cut it.)

Abraxas bent his head and sighed. "My Lord, I fear I will not be of much use to the cause in the future," he murmured softly, under the cover of the chamber music played by the Windermere Wizards Orchestra.

"And why is that my dear fellow?" Lord Voldemort murmured back, glad of a diversion, any diversion at this point. He wondered why people thought he would prefer these seventeenth century wailings rather than a good, old fashioned Gilbert and Sullivan, probably the only thing the Muggles had made that was in any way memorable.

"You have heard of Perryander's Disease?"

"Humm, usually confined to the African continent and mainly to the deeper reaches of the Congo? It was named after Jubal Perryander, one of the most daring explorers in modern Wizarding history."

"You are well read, my Lord," Abraxas complimented.

"Yes, and I seem to remember that it was named posthumously as it killed him."

"Unfortunately, yes, that is also true."

"And this is relevant how?"

"If you remember, my Lord, I was something of a traveller myself when I was much younger. I daringly followed in Perryander's footsteps, retracing his journeying into the Congo, following the river and sleeping in the natives' accommodations, eating native food and drinking the water. Unfortunately, I do believe I brought home one extra souvenir much as Perryander did, and it is now manifesting itself in all its pernicious forms."

Lord Voldemort now had his full attention on his henchman, a worried frown curving his eyebrows. "Are they sure? Have St. Mungo's run every available spell? What are they doing to rid you of the curse?"

"There is nothing to do my Lord, except treat the symptoms and hope the end comes quickly."

The orchestra wound down and the audience clapped but Lord Voldemort simply sat brooding on this new piece of information. The Malfoys were some of his closest supporters, socially superior to most of the families he had gathered to his cause and Abraxas had been one of the first to bend a knee to him when he first rose to prominence. To have such a terrible blow befall one of his favourite was almost a personal insult! "Have you spoken to Severus about this? That boy is a genius when it comes to potions, perhaps he can help?"

"No, my Lord, I have not told the boys yet. I thought I had better speak to you first. I am going to request Lucius brings forward the date of his nuptials so that I may witness the Binding, to secure the succession you see."

"My Severus will not be too pleased but I understand the need, and I am sure they too will understand your reasoning, once they get over the disappointment. I will speak to Severus personally and he will accept the necessity, after all, as we both agree, the boy is a genius, in some areas."

"I am sure he will come around, they both will, especially with your approval, my Lord."

"My approval? Good grief, of course," Voldemort laughed gently then patted his friend's shoulder as he rose and turned away from the concert. "You must tell them soon, tomorrow at dinner. I will be there, if you wish me to be."

"Thank you, my Lord, I appreciate it."

~~*~~

"Perryander's disease?" Lucius repeated stupidly, staring across the table in disbelief. "But, but what is it? I've never heard of it."

"It's a wasting sickness," Severus murmured quietly, steepling his fingers before his lips thoughtfully. "They think it is originally transmitted by a parasitic worm that feeds in magical fields. Orlunga Mombasso was doing some research on it in the early fifties but he had some sort of accident, eaten by a gryphon or something. I'm not sure how far he progressed with his research but I can find out."

"Thank you, Severus, I knew we could count on your encyclopaedic knowledge and exceedingly clever help." Lord Voldemort smiled across the table at the young man who flushed slightly. "I have a rather extensive library at Little Hangleton, if you need to check any unusual sources."

"But, but what is it?" Lucius persisted, still shocked.

"It is a wasting sickness, my son. The disease slowly but surely destroys the flesh and the magic in a person until they are nothing but a walking skeleton and eventually too weak to support life. In native Africa, the disease is often mistaken for sleeping sickness by Muggles but it is different in that it only really affects wizards and destroys organs more thoroughly."

"What can we do? What does it need to cure it?"

"Lucius, there is no cure," Lord Voldemort said gently.

"No, I don't believe that!" Tossing down his napkin, Lucius surged to his feet fast enough to overturn his chair and stormed out.

"Go with him, Severus, I will speak to you tomorrow," the Lord said quickly and waved the young man away.

Rising almost as swiftly, Severus bowed acknowledgement, cast a worried look at Abraxas, then hurried out after his lover.

~~*~~

Severus spent hours researching magical diseases, Perryander's in particular but a few other nasty ones too. He discovered a very strange little book by one of his distant ancestors tucked away in the Malfoy library. It didn't shed too much light on his present research topic but gave him some insights into how magic worked in humans. And that was how he was treating the assignment the Dark Lord had given him, as a research assignment devoid of any emotional content. He knew he would not be at his efficient best if he let himself dwell on the horrendous consequences the disease was going to have on his friend's father. Abraxas was as much his friend as Lucius, someone to talk to, bounce ideas off and, if the truth be told, look up to if he had a problem. Of course, he could always talk to Lord Voldemort but he didn't like to bother him with such petty problems as came his way.

Lucius, on the other hand, seemed to fall to pieces for a week, unable to concentrate or think or even go to work, he was so distraught. Severus couldn't quite understand how he could feel like that about his own father, but then, Severus really and genuinely hated his father with every fibre of his being, so he had no yardstick to judge by. In fact, when he had tried to voice his thoughts, Lucius had flown into a fine old rage and told him he was a cold-blooded bastard. They hadn't spoken for nearly a week. Abraxas had noticed their estrangement and had consoled Severus at one of their late night chess games but there was not much else he could do for the boy. They could only ride out Lucius' panic until he came to terms with himself and the news of his father's mortality.

When the resources of the Malfoy library, the Dark Lord's library and the Snape Library were exhausted, Severus began to devour the Potions College Library and then went on to chew through the Wizengamot's own library, the Library Of Wizardry. Cataloguing everything he could, copying everything he thought might be useful, he took piles of parchment home to the Malfoy potions laboratories and immersed himself in trying to decipher the real nature of the disease. After reading all the African texts the Dark Lord had had shipped in for him, he came to a few conclusions; that one, if caught early enough, there was a chance to eliminate the parasite that brought the disease in, in the first place. Two, if the virus did invade the victim's system then it was possible to eradicate it but the cure was radical and would probably do as much if not more damage than the disease. Three, it was too late to cure Abraxas Malfoy, he was going to die, but it was possible to slow the ravages of the disease so that degeneration would not set in so quickly or so painfully.

"Great, so instead of it being over quick and painful, you can slow it down so it is drags out over years instead of months?" Lucius jeered when Severus tried to talk to him about his father's prognosis.

Sighing deeply, Severus ignored Lucius' struggles as he pulled him close and forcibly held him until he relaxed almost to the point of limp in his arms. "I have studied the potions St. Mungo's has been recommended to treat the disease with and I have tweaked them, made improvements and exchanged ingredients so that they are as efficient as possible. They won't cure him but they will allow him to function at the best of his abilities for as long as possible. When it all gets too much for him, by substituting a few key ingredients, I can end it whenever he tells me it is time."

"Kill him, you mean?" Lucius said viciously.

"Yes."

Lucius gave him a look of utter disgust, barely hiding the pain the stark assertion caused. For all his protestations of friendship, Severus Snape stated that he could simply murder his so called friend in cold blood. Turning away, Lucius stalked off, without a word.

~~*~~

"The combination of drugs and spells is tricky and will have to be monitored at all times but it will give you the best of time possible, eighteen months, perhaps even two years of fairly normal life. After that, you will degenerate rapidly; the disease will become immune to the treatment and begin to flourish in the poisonous environment. Unfortunately, because the drugs contain so many lethal ingredients, increasing the dosage becomes impossible after a certain point and that is when the disease will flourish." Severus lectured, hands clasped behind his back as he paced. When he turned to face the two men he was presenting his findings to, he suddenly folded his arms across his chest and ducked his head. "Once that point is reached, you will have a choice, lower the dose and suffer the disease at full strength or increase the dose and die of poisoning."

"Painful?" Lord Voldemort asked when Abraxas seemed incapable of it.

"Very, hemlock, belladonna and ashwinder eggshell in conjunction tend to be very volatile and painful. However, when you give the word, I will mix a more gentle poison that will ease you away without the agony that I can promise you." The boy and the man locked eyes over the distance and the promise was sealed.

"Thank you, So-Severus, I appreciate it," Abraxas said quietly, offering his hand and taking the boy's to seal the bargain. "When will we start the regime?"

Severus half smiled and pulled a small blue bottle out of his robes. "No time like the present."

Later that night, Lucius watched as Severus undressed, a strange glint in his eye. Raising an eyebrow, Severus went to lift the duvet but Lucius slammed a hand over the covers angrily. Surprised, Severus paused, one hand raised, utterly still as he watched Lucius watch him with a blank expression.

"So you promise to kill my father, then you expect to just continue as always," Lucius muttered flatly. "How can you promise such a thing without even blinking?" His voice rose as he demanded an answer.

"The alternative is more horrific than you can comprehend at this moment, Lucius. You have seen men die, tortured or poisoned or blown up, now think of your father's face in their place, begging for death as his muscles try to tear free, as he is unable to control his own bodily functions, as his mind begins to slip away and hallucinations become more real than reality. Do you think that is the best alternative? Do you want to watch him slip into drooling, raving, incontinent imbecility when a simple potion can end his suffering? Do you?" Severus roared, stepping back and dashing a tear from his cheek. "Go to hell, Lucius; just... just... go to hell!" He tossed his outer robe around his shoulders carelessly and apparated out.

~~*~~

"Severo!"

He ignored the shout, measuring out the powdered moonstone with obsessive care. The brew before him was simmering gently, fragrant steam rising to shroud his face and lighten each breath he took, but nothing was touching his mood which remained grim and dour.

"Severus!"

The voice was closer but still he was not deterred from his task, making a note in the margin of his textbook in precise, tiny writing.

"Severus Snape, will you answer me, when I speak to you!" Lucius demanded as he stomped into the laboratory, his robes in disarray.

Still ignoring him, Severus removed the cauldron from the flame and added a one gram portion of powdered moonstone to the brew before grabbing the whisk and beating the powder through thoroughly. The clear fluid took on a soft, pearly hue, as delicate as moonstone itself and he nodded in satisfaction as he tapped the whisk clean - three precise blows - before setting both the whisk and the cauldron aside. Only then did he turn to the irate man who was looming over him.

"I was busy. What do you want?" he said flatly, not bothering to look up as he wiped his hands on an old rag.

"Are you ever going to stop sulking?" Lucius inquired impatiently. "Look, I'm sorry if I upset you the other night, you upset me too, you know, threatening to kill my father. I just didn't understand until he explained the course of the disease to me. And you still have to apologise to the Dark Lord for last week too, you upset him as well with your criticism. So, here is your chance to apologise to Lord Voldemort, get back into his good graces again. He has been quite angry himself you know, he isn't used to people telling him he is careless."

"Isn't he? Well, he should take more care not to be wrong or make sure his sycophants are all well-trained yes men then."

Lucius winced then glared at his lover, grabbing his arm and spinning him around. "Are you calling me a coward?" he snarled suddenly realising how much taller Severus had grown this past year. "What happened to your nose?" he asked suddenly, finally taking a proper look at his face.

Severus snorted and pushed Lucius away easily. "You can't expect to fall on your face and writhe around on the floor under an Unforgivable curse without some consequence, and when your nose is as big as mine, you have to infer that it would hit the ground before I did, don't you?"

"But... but you could have healed it straight, you have before!"

"I could have, but why bother? So, what did you want?" Severus asked indifferently, turning to bottle the potion he had been working on.

"What? Oh, oh yes, the Dark Lord wants to know if you have some sort of life prolonging solution that could be used to keep prisoners alive longer when they are being questioned. Quite a few people have simply died when under torture before they could give up their secrets."

"In the green glass on the top shelf, it's marked."

"No, no, Severo, he wants you to deliver and administer it yourself. He said he would appreciate your expertise in matters pertaining to potions."

"Oh, would he indeed? Oh very well!" Severus stomped over to the storage cupboard, removed the stasis spell from one section to retrieve the potion needed, then stomped back. "Well? Do we apparate or portkey?" he demanded grumpily, glaring down at Lucius who simply shook his head in resignation.

"We apparate."

~~*~~

Of course it had to be the Lestrange dungeons they apparated into, reeking of blood, sweat and terror. They were probably the only private dungeons Severus had seen that had an audience gallery above the main torture arena. Lord Voldemort was seated in a throne-like affair that dominated the best views of the action below. On his left Antonin Dolohov leafed through a magazine with a disinterested air and on his right Walden Macnair leaned forward drinking in the angst and excitement rising from the arena below. Lesser functionaries were crowded around the railing, jostling and elbowing for a good view of the proceedings. Severus was not particularly surprised to see Evan Rosier and Bootman Wilkes in the middle of the crowd although Simon Parkinson was something of a leveller.

Ignoring the looks and speculation, Severus glided forward and stopped at his Lord's right shoulder, not moving or speaking, making no announcement of his presence.

"You have a potion for us?" Lord Voldemort inquired, not turning or acknowledging the young man in any personal way.

Snape nodded his head once but spoke no word, a still dark shadow in the shadows. This whole scene was disturbing to him but there had to be a purpose behind it, one he just did not see at this time. Gathering up his questions, scruples and objections, Snape pushed them into a dark corner of his mind and closed the door before waiting to do the Lord's bidding.

"You will join the Lestranges and administer your brew to the right hand prisoner. Dalgettie will be in charge of the left hand prisoner and we will see what develops."

Severus bowed again and swept away, ignoring everyone as he glided down the stairs, nodded once to Bella, Rabastan and Sturmon Dalgettie and took his place near the right hand rack where a pale-faced, sweating Muggle lay pilloried. He looked to be about thirty, short brown hair sweat-matted and bloody, the skin of his chest already showing signs of fire and knife. Above them Lord Voldemort cleared his throat causing instant silence.

"This is a contest between the two teams I have assembled. Bella, you are with Severus and Rabastan with Sturmon. The object is to inflict the most damage you can without killing your Muggle. The potions you brewers administer will prolong the contest as much as possible. When you are ready you may begin."

"I hope you brewed that competently, little man," Bella hissed as she selected her first knife from the set laid out in a row on the table at her side.

"I hope you are competent with your tools, little girl, or we will both be in trouble," Severus retaliated as he uncapped the bottle and measured out three drops, pouring them onto the man's slightly swollen tongue. "Do we have water? Good, we'll give him a drink; it will wash the brew down better."

"You give him a drink, you think he needs it," Bella snapped, carefully cutting the first square inch of skin from the man's chest.

Severus stood back from the proceedings, his arms crossed over his chest and watched impassively as Bella plied the torturer's trade with a skill that had to be admired. She was good, using the knives, pinchers, boot and rack with a delicate touch that screamed of mastery and long practice. He had to admire her skill even in such a pointless exercise as this one was proving to be. The Muggle had no information, he was just a Muggle caught out somewhere and dragged in for the entertainment value his death would yield. The audience above seemed to thrive on the screams and sobs he and his fellow unfortunate could not seem to help letting out.

Occasionally, Severus stopped Bella and administered his brew, giving the man a little water each time, and trying to ignore the smell of his blood and the pleading in his eyes. The time intervals between doses of potions began to shorten as the life's blood flowed out onto the bloodgutters and finally onto the floor until the footing was slippery and even Bella had to be careful how she stepped around the rack. As she moved down toward his feet, his screams became more and more feeble; going from hoarse pleading to mere whimpers then barely twitches toward the end.

Bella snapped at Severus to give him more potions but Severus merely shrugged. "No point really, Bella, he rattled a few moments ago and nothing I have with me will bring him back again."

"What? How can you fail me like this?" she screamed, her knife lashing out toward Severus' face in a vicious slash.

Even as he swayed backward, a Cruatious Curse took her and dropped her into the congealed blood puddle under the rack. She screamed, high-pitched and pained, louder than her victim had in the beginning. Emotionlessly, Severus watched her writhe, then, as the curse was lifted, he offered a hand to pull her to her feet before turning to face the balcony.

"Now, now Bella, no need to punish Severus for winning the contest for you," Voldemort said playfully. "Didn't you notice your dear brother-in-law and his partner lost by a good two hours? My dear child, you have been working hard for five hours, no wonder you are so tired. Come, join us in some refreshment and receive your laurels, you too, Severus." He turned to smile at the boy who merely nodded his acceptance.

The Lord's mouth tightened for a second then he smiled ruefully. He had made a mistake when he had punished Severus for speaking his mind and he was being made to pay for it. It was funny in a way, how the boy refused to soften or give in his stance in any way, gallant really, if a little annoying. And he hadn't screamed much when the curse bit, which was intriguing until Lucius explained that Severus told him that Severus' Grandmother doubled the punishment for every scream he made. Ah, she must have been a fine old school matriarch in her day, and a hell of a teacher!

He remembered his initial assessment of the boy's psyche and realised his emotional and intellectual make-up had to have reasons for everything, solid black and white reasons. The boy would not be happy with whims and 'because I wanted to' would not sit well in his lexicon. Ah, intelligence, what a two-edged sword! The mental exercise kept Tom on his toes, more so than any other member of his cadre.

~~*~~

The reception droned on, Bella giggling and giving blow by blow descriptions of the methods and techniques she had used to torture her Muggle, poking and teasing her husband who allowed her to boast good-naturedly. Severus merely drifted into the nearest dark corner and sipped the firewhiskey he poured with a liberal hand.

He was surprised when someone slipped in beside him, a warm body standing too close until he caught the scent and stiffened abruptly. "My Lord," he said formally.

"Now, now, my Severus, don't you think you have punished me enough for my chastisement? I did not mean you any permanent harm, certainly not to disfigure you, my child." A thin, pale hand brushed over the lumpy bend in Severus' nose apologetically. "Will you let me straighten that?"

Severus thought about it for a moment then sighed, the tension running out. "I am sorry I was so abrupt with you, my Lord, and that I reacted badly to the news that potions were traceable. No one had ever told me that before and I hate being surprised by my ignorance. That is my only excuse but I cannot say I didn't mean what I said, for that I do not apologise. In Potion making, attention to detail is the most important aspect of the process. One slip could mean the potions maker is spread all over the laboratory wall in thin gooey strings," he paused while the Dark Lord cracked a laugh and patted his shoulder. "Not paying attention to those details, and realising I had missed a huge chunk of information was, was a shock to the system. As for straightening my nose, no, I think not, it will remind me to be more careful in the future."

"Very well, my Severus, friends again?"

"Yes, my Lord," he said softly, bowing to his Lord.

"Then come out and get something decent to drink instead of that inferior rubbish Rodolphus has foisted off on you." The Lord drew him from his hiding place with a hand on his back to make sure he came quietly. "Twenty-one year old Ogden's is your favourite, is it not?"

~~*~~

Severus was brooding again; it was always a bad thing when he did it, Lucius decided, standing in the doorway to the guest suite. The younger man had not really spoken to anyone since the Lord had punished him for contradicting him, although what Severus had expected was beyond his ken. When the Lord had called him personally and smiled on him after the little contest at the Lestrange house, Severus had not responded to the olive branch as well as he should have. What did he want? What did he expect? You did not contradict the most powerful wizard in the world, nor did you chastise him for what you perceived as a mistake. All you could do was try to compensate for the errors, work around those little blind spots and do your best to avoid arguing and getting cursed.

"It's no good hovering in the doorway," Severus said without lifting his head from the book he was writing in. "Either come in or go away."

"You're a cheerful little ray of sunshine lately, aren't you?" Lucius huffed, coming in to flounce down on the side of the bed. "Honestly, I don't know why I bother to seek you out, you are just so pissy!"

"Because I have a big cock and you like it shoved up your arse," Severus said crudely, making Lucius gasp and glare then finally laugh ruefully.

"Amongst other things," he acknowledged spinning around to lie next to Severus and look down on his textbook. "You know you aren't supposed to write in textbooks, terribly bad form, love."

Severus banished the book, inkpot and quill to the dresser before rolling to look at Lucius, studying him like a specimen until he squirmed uncomfortably. "He punished me for stating the obvious." he said out of the blue.

"No-o. You told him off like he was a naughty little child and he punished you for that disrespect. Later, he even apologised to you indirectly by very publicly taking you under his wing, touching you and generally showering you with favour. Just learn one lesson from all this, please, Severo. He is not a naughty boy; he is a very powerful and touchy Lord of Darkness who can and does play God with all our lives."

"I thought he liked me, I thought he was my friend, or... or something."

Lucius sighed and drew Severus to him, holding him close. He sometimes forgot just how young Severus really was, even younger than his age in some ways. He still had an endearing if quirky belief in everything being black and white. If you were a friend, you were always a friend, if you were an enemy you were 'THE ENEMY' with no quarter given. There were few shades of grey, no shadings of truth and friendship, or friendly enemies, just good and bad, black and white. If he didn't grow out of it sometime soon, Severus was going to get badly hurt one way or the other.

"He is your friend and protector but he cannot and will not protect you from himself. He gives you leeway he doesn't allow any other, including my father, to voice your opinions even when they do not march hand in hand with his, but he cannot and will not tolerate outright rebellion from you, especially not in public, even the limited public of my father and I. Do you understand me? Perhaps he will listen to you in private but never when there is an audience," he added when the boy seemed to be struggling with himself. "Really, you know, if it was anyone else I would be extremely jealous of his attentions to my propert..., er, lover."

Sighing deeply, Severus snuggled against Lucius' chest and let out a shaky sigh, a hint of sad resignation in his voice. "Yes, I understand, we must always be seen to be upholding the throne, even if we disagree with the current policies and if we do see a problem we must work around it until we can speak out quietly in the utter privacy of a one-on-one situation, if the chance arises. It's alright to gently chastise Tom in the privacy of the library when playing chess but not in public while anyone else is present, not even you and your father."

"That's it, love, exactly right," Lucius praised and petted the dark head pressed so trustingly against his throat. "That's exactly right." 'But only you are allowed the privilege of criticism without retaliation, whether you realise it or not, my naïve little man,' he added to himself with a sigh.

10.04.2006