Into the Mouth of Hell

Into the Mouth of Hell: Chapter 11

The Baring

Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks

Within his bending sickle's compass come

He remembered being put on the train, and he remembered arriving at Snape Hall. He remembered embracing his father and looking in at the body of his mother. He remembered unpacking and drawing out his best dress robes. He remembered distant relatives and owls from classmates. He remembered the cold snow and the colder presence of his father, who left on business the next day. And then, he was utterly and thoroughly alone.

The stone walls of Snape Hall betrayed no emotion. Severus walked the corridors of the old house for days, wandering into rooms he hadn't been in since he was a child. He had completely forgotten there was a room decorated entirely in purple plaid. He finally opened the doors of his mother's room on Christmas Eve. He opened the draperies, letting in the dying sunlight that reflected off the snow. He watched dust slowly swirl in the last blue rays of afternoon light. It was dizzying. Severus sat down on the bed, tracing the design cut into the velvet bedspread. He slowly opened the drawer of her bedside table. The small dark bottles inside rattled. Severus read their labels: Headaches, Nightmares, Cough, Vertigo, and Insomnia. The last one he opened. The potion smelled stale, like it had been brewed years ago. He pushed them aside, rifling through the rest of the contents of the drawer: a set of reading glasses, an old quill, and, in the very back, a book with a frayed blue satin ribbon tied around it.

He pulled the old book out of the drawer. It was a writing journal. He had never seen this before, but it was very, very old. He tugged on the ribbon, and the knot slowly gave way.

"Master, there is a visitor to see you, sir!"

Severus slowly looked up from the book at the small house-elf in the doorway. "Who is it?"

"Master, Looksy isn't knowing, sir. He says he has something important to give to Master."

Severus tucked the book inside his robes. He ran his hands down either side of his thin face to flatten his hair. "Tell him I'll be right down."

The house-elf bowed very deeply, and then disappeared. Severus drew the drapes again, blocking out the light. It had been days since he had bathed or changed his robes. He tried to smooth the wrinkles out of his front as he slowly descended the stone steps and entered the parlor.

Severus recognized his visitor instantly: the long, white-blonde hair, the expensive, custom-tailored robes, the self-assurance and air of dominance.

"Hello, Lucius," Severus said. He meant to sound warm and inviting, but his voice came out cold and flat. After all, it had been since Bella's wedding that he had seen him, and he felt as though he'd been through hell since then.

Lucius turned slowly, a smile on his face. It was the same smile that Lucius had worn as Head Boy. The warmth didn't reach his gray eyes, which remained cold and haughty, even as he turned to Severus and embraced him. "Ah, Severus," he said mournfully. "My family sends its deepest regrets and warmest sympathies." When he pulled away, he handed Severus a large bottle of Malfoy scotch.

Severus attempted a smile. His lips twitched slightly. "Thank you, Lucius."

"It's the least I can do," Lucius said, taking a seat by the fire. He draped his arm casually over the back of the chair and shifted his weight to one side.

Severus slowly sat down in the chair opposite him. The warmth of the fire felt foreign, unfamiliar. He folded his cold hands in his lap and settled back into the chair. He closed his eyes, and was vaguely aware that Lucius was still watching him. After some time, he spoke.

"You know, Severus, even as we sit here, the history of the world is changing."

Severus inclined his head slightly to indicate that he was listening. The warmth of the fire felt good on his face. He kept his eyes closed.

Lucius continued. "There are many changes underway in the Ministry. Millicent Bagnold is preparing to retire. We hear that Barty Crouch is looking to see himself as Minister." Lucius paused.

Severus frowned slightly. Barty Crouch was currently the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, and had given the Aurors free use of the Unforgivable Curses several years ago. He had then begun imprisoning suspected followers of the Dark Lord without trial. While some people applauded his harsh judgments, Severus and his friends, and many of the most influential wizarding families in Britain, the Blacks and Malfoys included, were not too keen on seeing him promoted.

"Myself and several of my associates are of course looking for an adequate successor to Bagnold," Lucius drawled, "one with proper wizarding sensibilities and other -- necessary -- qualities."

Severus smirked. When someone like Lucius talked about a politician's "necessary qualities," he meant "open pockets." Severus had grown quite accustomed to the ways in which business transactions were handled at Malfoy Manor, having spent some time with Mr. Malfoy and his associates.

Lucius chuckled. "I am sure you are aware that Dumbledore is interested in the position?"

Severus furrowed his brow and shook his head slightly. He had not heard this rumor.

"Well, we can't let that happen. That old fool would undermine the authority of the pureblood families, not to mention stand in the way of any measures promoting the pureblood way of life. He's already made certain -- tasks -- difficult."

Severus slowly opened his eyes to look at Lucius. It took him a moment to focus his black gaze. "That's undesirable," Severus said evenly. Where was Lucius going with this? It certainly wasn't the kind of light-hearted conversation they used to have during holidays at Malfoy Manor. Lucius was speaking pointedly, deliberately. He had an agenda.

The corners of Lucius' lips slowly rose into a slight smirk. "Fancy a nip, Severus?" He conjured two glasses and began to pour from the bottle he had brought with him. He handed a glass to Severus.

Severus slowly reached out and took the glass. Moving was a drain on his energy.

Lucius raised his glass. "A toast, Severus. To money and blood."

"A toast, Lucius," Severus muttered, touching his glass to Lucius', "to blood and money." It was the same toast he had given the summer Narcissa was pregnant with her first child, a girl meant to be named Ariadne. When the conversation had turned to Severus' feelings for Bellatrix, Severus had raised his glass to toast her engagement to Rodolphus Lestrange. Remembering, Severus slowly took a sip from his glass. The last drink he had was at Bella's wedding a year and a half ago. The Malfoy scotch stung his throat. Severus took another sip, moving the liquor around his tongue for a moment before swallowing. He regarded Lucius through narrowed eyes.

"Why are you here, Lucius?"

Lucius' slight smirk spread into a haughty sneer. "Do you remember the Slytherin Code of Honor, Severus?"

Severus nodded and muttered, "I pledge allegiance to the pureblood way; our nobility, under Slytherin, forever be defended." Lucius had made him and fifteen other members of their House memorize it back in his first year when he had started the Slytherin Dueling Club. It had been on the same day the Dark Lord's first attacks reached the papers.

Lucius leaned close to Severus so that their faces were inches apart. His gray eyes were full of emotion: excitement, desire. He reminded Severus strongly of the first time he had met Bellatrix. "What if I told you," Lucius said in a low, dangerous voice, "that the time for defense was upon us?"

Severus rolled the edge of the cool, smooth glass across his thin lips, all the while locked in an intense gaze with Lucius. "I suppose I would ask you what the devil you were on about," Severus said evenly, then finished his drink in one quick shot.

Lucius poured Severus another. "Have I ever told you the story of the Heir of Slytherin?"

Severus shook his head. He supposed he had read every book in the library having to do with Salazar Slytherin, one of the four founders of Hogwarts, after whom his House was named. He left the school when the other founders refused to allow only pureblood witch and wizard admissions. But Severus had never heard about the Heir of Slytherin. "I don't suppose you have."

Lucius sat back in his chair. "Before my father was at school," Lucius began, "there was a very horrible -- accident -- at Hogwarts." Lucius paused, inspecting the amber contents of his glass in the firelight. "The year before he started, a Mudblood was found dead in the girl's washroom on the second floor. During my time -- that is to say, our time -- at Hogwarts, that girl still haunted that bathroom."

Severus nodded. "Moaning Myrtle."

"Very good, Severus," Lucius set down his glass, and then folded his hands over the top of his knee. "They blamed the attack on a monster that was set loose in the castle. Someone was apprehended in the matter and expelled. And everyone rested easy." Lucius paused.

Severus nodded to show he was listening. He was staring into the fire, although under normal circumstances, he rather enjoyed history.

"However," Lucius said in a conspiring tone, "what most people do not know is that they got the wrong man."

Severus snapped his attention from the fire to look at Lucius, who was smirking. Always a flair for the dramatic, Severus thought.

"I am sure you are aware of the supposed myth of the Chamber of Secrets?"

Nodding, Severus remembered reading about the Chamber of Secrets: a secret chamber Salazar Slytherin built in the castle before leaving. The myth told that the Chamber is home to a terrible monster that only Salazar Slytherin's one true heir could control, and in so doing, have the power to complete Slytherin's work by exterminating the Mudblood students.

"I tell you now, Severus, that it is no myth."

Severus narrowed his eyes. "Why are you telling me this, Lucius?"

"The year before my father attended Hogwarts, the Heir of Slytherin opened the Chamber of Secrets and released the monster therein contained," Lucius said, annoyed. He took a deep breath and regained his composure. "The boy who opened the chamber thirty-five years ago is alive and well, having just in the past decade returned to Britain."

Severus raised an eyebrow. "I'm listening."

"He has come back to ensure that Slytherin's work is completed: that the pureblood families return to dominance and the Mudbloods are purged." Lucius' eyes flashed wickedly as he stood up suddenly and gracefully tossed his untouched glass into the fire. Severus flinched slightly when the glass shattered and the flames jumped. "My time here is ended. You will be visited tonight, Severus, by two old friends: one whom you know well, and the other whom you will be meeting for the first time," Lucius said, pulling on his heavy cloak. Severus never did like the way "friends" sounded when it came out of Lucius' mouth. Severus followed him with his eyes. He stopped at the doorway to the parlor. "And Severus?"

"Yes Lucius?"

"You might want to consider a bath."

Severus sneered and waved Lucius away with one hand. Lucius smirked and left the parlor. Severus heard the creaking of the heavy front door, and the sound of the wind moving outside. Severus stood slowly and moved to the parlor windows. Lucius was already gone.

Alone again, Severus turned back to the fire. He sat down on the sofa, turned his body, and lifted his feet so that he was comfortably reclined. He filled his glass again with liquor, and took the book he had found in his mother's bedside table out of his pocket.

He turned the book over in his hand. There was no inscription. The book was not even embossed with the name of the owner. Severus set it in his lap, took a drink of scotch, and opened the book.

At first, Severus was very confused. He knew he was tired, but he couldn't be so tired that he couldn't even read. "Walpurgisnacht, 1478, " the top of the page read. Below it, in faded brown ink, the words, "Ich been verstecken." Severus took another drink, and flipped the pages of the book slowly, looking for a clue as to what it was and what it had to do with his mother. He flipped until he came to the first blank page. Then he turned it back over again so that he was looking at the last entry.

"December 18, 1977. I am dying tonight."

Severus stared down at the words. He turned back another page.

"September 1, 1971. Severus is at school tonight. He will be in Slytherin like his father. In the womb, already I knew what he would become. I felt the darkness stirring in his blood. Last night, he discovered it. He must not be weak. I have done the best I could to prepare him. The rest is coming. I have foreseen it. I will die before I am witness to it."

Severus read this passage over and over again, trying to make sense of it. Then he flipped backwards again, and began to read the passages back to front.

* * * * *

Severus moaned gently in his sleep. He was having a nightmare: he was running through a village. People were chasing him. He was so small! He hid in a house. Something smelled like it was burning. Something spicy and exotic, though earthy and familiar. Mallowsweet. He knew that smell: Bella.

Severus fought the weight of his eyelids. He managed just enough to see the fire and to know that he was safe and sound exactly where he had been: in the parlor of Snape Hall. He felt a weight on his chest and found the diary.

It had been passed down through generations of witches on Severus' maternal side: witches with seer blood who had suffered greatly in persecutions at the hands of fearful and ignorant Muggles. He had read as much of the book as he could: it dated back to fifteenth century German ancestors.

Something black passed in front of the flames. Severus snapped open his eyes and sat up rather quickly, spilling what scotch was left in his glass down the front of his robes. It felt like the room was spinning. Severus raised a hand to his forehead. He had drunk most of the bottle Lucius had left.

"All right, Severus?"

Severus stood so quickly that he felt for sure his head would explode. He felt like he was going to be sick. He squinted through the haze of drunkenness and tried to steady himself.

Bella was leaning against the mantle.

Severus closed his eyes, then slowly reopened them. But she was still there, slightly backlit in the dying flames of the fire, dressed entirely in black. She was wearing no cloak, only thin dress robes. Severus reached out to her, his head throbbing, sure she was a dream.

"You look like hell, Severus," she said, pushing off the mantle and moving toward him. She stopped just out of reach.

Severus slowly dropped his hand from his forehead and slightly shook his head. Bella reached out to him, but he flinched and recoiled.

"Shhh, Severus," she cooed. She put her hands out, as if to touch either side of his face, and he let her. She was surprisingly warm, although the parlor was freezing. The wind whirled as snow drove against the blackened windows.

The pain in his head vanished when she touched him. He moved into her embrace. She was warm all over, and Severus felt the cold leave him. He breathed in the familiar sweet smell of her hair.

"I missed you, Bella," he said softly. He still wasn't entirely sure that this wasn't a dream. He embraced her tightly, not wanting to let go.

"My apologies," she said sweetly, petting his head. There was a sadness, a hollowness, in her voice that Severus couldn't remember having been there before.

"Where have you been?" He was swaying from the liquor.

"It is not the time for stories about things passed, Severus." She swayed slightly with him, so that they were almost dancing.

"What are you doing here?" He closed his eyes.

"Meeting an old friend."

Severus felt something slide into place in his brain. "Lucius said I should expect you."

Bella whispered a laugh lacking joy. "Lucius knows much."

"I don't understand." He pulled away from her, wanting to see her face, see if there was more there than he could recognize.

She turned her dark blue eyes to meet his gaze. She was still Bella, still beautiful. She slowly moved a finger to his thin lips. Hushing him, she raised up on tiptoes so that she could whisper in his ear. "You've grown into a fine young man, Severus." She pressed her lips against his.

They had only almost kissed once before, when Severus was eleven. It was Boxing Day at Malfoy Manor, the night Bella had just uncovered the arrangements her father had made for her to marry Rodolphus Lestrange. She had been upset and aggressive, a pouting fourteen year-old who ordered cocoa and tickled him until he screamed with panic.

Now, however, they were not children and they were very much changed. He opened his mouth to the pressure of her tongue, and he tasted her hungrily. His hands traveled the length of her back, coming to rest on her hips. He pulled her roughly toward him. She grabbed hold of the front of his robes and pulled him closer still. She twisted one of her hands in the long hair at the base of his neck and pulled. A soft moan escaped his throat, and he pulled away to explore her neck with his tongue. She moaned loudly, sinking onto the carpet, dragging him down with her.

They did not speak: their mouths were too busy. He explored every inch of her body with his hands, ripping her silk dress robes in his desire. She grasped at his robes, jerkily lifting them. He raised his arms, and she pulled them over his head. She moved beneath him eagerly. He moved into her, watching her face illuminated in the soft glow of the fire. He was aware of the chill licking at him everywhere her skin was not touching. He rested his face in the valley of her collarbone, her breath hot in his ear. She wrapped her arms around him. He pulled them down, pinning them on the ground above her head.

And then he stopped.

Bella's moan died in her throat. "What's wrong?"

"What is that?" Severus asked, his eyes fixed on the creamy skin of her left forearm. He held both her wrists in one hand, moving the other to the black mark: a serpent coming out of the mouth of a skull. It seemed to be burned into her flesh.

Bella squirmed, trying to free her arms. Severus did not let her go.

He looked down into her face, his mouth twisting in surprise and disgust. "What did you do, Bella?" he hissed softly.

As if admitting defeat, she quit struggling. "It's the Dark Mark."

"What did you do?" Severus repeated, continuing to stare into her face. The desire in her eyes was fading. He pushed into her. She shuddered.

"The Dark Lord," she moaned.

"What did you do?" Severus said again, pushing into her harder. "Who is he?"

Bella's eyes were wide, fixed on Severus. "The Heir of Slytherin. The Dark Lord. Lord Voldemort." She shuddered as he pressed into her. "Please don't stop. I've missed you."

Afterwards, Bella slept, curled beneath Severus' robes. He lay beside her, propped up on one elbow in front of the stoked fire. He brushed the hair out of her face. He was shocked at how much wrong he had done: sleeping with another man's wife, who had been like a sister to him, whose family had supported and accepted him. Perhaps he had slipped past rationality: he'd been awake for three days, pacing the cold halls of his home, then drinking most of a bottle of Malfoy scotch on a very empty stomach. It was a wonder that he was alive, let alone that he had just lost his virginity to the best friend he ever had, who had sworn her life in service to the darkest wizard since Grindelwald, maybe since Slytherin himself.

She stirred, and her eyes fluttered open. For a moment, she looked at him as if she had never seen him before. Then she slowly gathered Severus' robes around her as she sat up. She smiled at him, and he returned it.

"Your robes are shreds," he said villainously. "I guess that means you have to stay." He moved in to kiss her again, but she recoiled.

"My time here is ended," she said evenly, roaming the room with her eyes, no doubt looking for her robes. She reached behind her to the coffee table, retrieving her wand, which Severus had not noticed before. "Accio robes!" she said. Her robes flew out from behind the sofa and landed in her lap. She held them up, examined them, and then looked at Severus curiously. Severus shrugged. "Reparo!"

Severus watched as she dressed hurriedly. "When will I see you again?"

She bent down and kissed his forehead. "Soon enough," she said.

Severus stood, wrapping his robes around his middle. "Where are you going?"

Bella sighed dramatically. She closed her eyes and rubbed the bridge of her nose between her eyes. "Severus, this is important," she said. "He will come when you say you are ready for him."

Severus narrowed his eyes. "What are you saying?"

"He will come for you tonight, Severus," she said seriously, placing her hands on the sides of his face. She looked him in the eye. "He will come for you when you say you are ready."

"Ready for what?" Severus asked apprehensively.

"Ready to defend our nobility." She met his gaze directly, her voice dead even and coldly serious.

Severus nodded.

"Do not show weakness, Severus," Bella said firmly. "The Dark Lord does not tolerate weakness."

Severus nodded again. She stood on her toes, softly kissing him on each cheek. Something flashed in her eyes like pride. She turned swiftly from him and Disapparated, leaving him standing stark naked in the middle of the parlor with his mouth wide open.

After dressing and pouring himself another stiff drink, Severus turned his mother's diary over slowly in his hands. He would not be weak.

His mind traveled across the newly discovered history of his mother's family, which had been forced into hiding under persecution from ignorant Muggles. He thought of Andromeda and Black, and of Potter and Lupin. He thought of the whole of his experience, which had been preparing him as a Slytherin. It was destiny, after all, to serve the heir of the House he defended and of which he was so proud to be a member. He hesitated, and then tossed the diary into the fire. He took a long drink of the scotch and shuddered. He was prepared. He had been preparing for this since the night before he went to Hogwarts. This was his fate, his fortune.

He tossed his glass into the fire with the book, the pages of which were blackening and curling in the flames. The glass shattered and the flames reared and hissed.

"I am ready for you, Lord Voldemort."

No sooner had the words escaped his mouth, than a cloaked figure stepped out of the flames. "I've been waiting for you, young Severus Snape," the figure hissed.

For the second time that night, Severus felt sure that he was going to be sick as the Dark Lord slowly lowered his hood.