Wanted! - Deathless or in His Death-Throes

At age forty-one, Severus Snape was still very much alive and kicking. Much to Lord Voldemort's displeasure. Thanks to Snape's effort Voldemort's painstakingly kept Death Eater ranks had been reduced to a laughing stock for the entire Wizarding World. Snape had been the model, and dozens of Dark wizards had followed his shining (his oily hair) example, becoming spies for the Light rather than staying on the straight and narrow - Voldemort's side of the path, of course. The undercover wizards - Voldemort shuddered just thinking of them - had infiltrated his ranks like the plague, and just as persistently. It had been degrading; it had been humiliating; in short: nothing that should be associated with the fear-inducing Dark Lord and his (once) faithfully following felony-doers.

Voldemort might not be the brightest bulb in the closet, but even he finally caught on on all those mutiny speeches and in-disguise-spies-for-the-Light recruiting. It merely took him twenty years. Which wasn't really all that much. Only the blink of an eye for Voldemort, who'd be living forever, in any case.

Voldemort blew Snape's cover after twenty years. Finally. Unfortunately, the greasy poison-maker picked up a few things over time. As Voldemort summoned him via Dark Mark to engage in never-ending torture and torment for the treachery (or Triple T for short, but Voldemort, with all his lisping, couldn't pronounce that), the sly bastard dared to not show up! The nerve of that man!

Voldemort ground his teeth in anger. How dare he! Snape was supposed to come like a good little spy-pretending-to-be-a-Death-Eater and receive his punishment with open arms and girlish shrieks. Voldemort had been deprived of his pleasure. He wouldn't let Snape get away with it, though. Snape deemed himself safe at Hogwarts, surrounded by his colleagues and friends. Not for much longer.

Voldemort conjured a scroll of parchment and a self-inking quill, and started to write.

Wanted! Life-less or in his Death-Throes

Dear son Severus Snape didn't show up for his weekly visit. He is dearly missed, and will be welcomed back with drawn wands. Please return our son to us. For your effort you will be greatly paid. See magical mirror below for more information.

Voldemort sighed in contentment and magicked a small mirror to the end of the parchment. There, in the shimmering reflection, he saw his heart's desire: himself torturing Snape to death.

If that wasn't incentive enough...

Breakfast on a Saturday morning was a casual affair, and one Remus Lupin was quite fond of it. He got to sleep longer than usual - and warmer, as well, because he'd spend the night at his lover's chambers, not letting Severus leave the bed before nine o'clock. After a thorough joint shower, they'd eat in Severus' small kitchen. Everything went like usual - until Remus opened the early edition of the Daily Prophet, stumbling over a page with a peculiar ad.

"Anything interesting?" Severus asked, pouring himself a cup of tea.

"The Falmouth Falcons beat the Chudley Cannons yesterday," Remus said quietly, smiling at his lover. He folded the newspaper, laying it to the side, and reached for a slice of toast. "And it's going to rain - but that's hardly any news."

"Right." Severus took his spoon and went to open his boiled egg, like he was wont to do every other weekend. Eggs were the only treat Severus indulged in every now and then, unlike Remus, who didn't indulge in his treat, but inhaled them - chocolates, marzipan, lollypops, to name a few.

At the moment, though, Remus wasn't concentrating on making his Nutella sandwich. He kept on gazing at Severus' breakfast, as if it contained all the answers of the universe in a nutshell, or rather an eggshell.

Then, everything happened very quickly: Severus cracked the shell with the side of his spoon, Remus drew his wand, the eggshell pieces flew in various directions, and Remus cast "Immobulus".

Severus stared in surprise at the tiny dragon floating right in front of his beaky nose. It huffed and puffed, but nothing more dangerous than a bit of smoke escaped in the end.

"Curious," Severus said, reaching for some toast instead.

"Indeed," Remus replied, pocketing his wand again. With that, the couple dismissed the gently fuming dragon.

The next incident happened on Severus' way to Greenhouse II. He needed some wuxweed for his next project, and decided to harvest it as long as it was fresh and untouched by those patchy first-years Sprout taught on Mondays. Severus didn't know that Sprout had re-organized her greenhouses, number two now harbouring the man-eating plants. He was kind of unprepared as, the second he set foot in the glasshouse, half a dozen ranks shot from every direction and wrapped themselves around his wiry frame. One root wound itself tightly around Severus' neck, thus leaving him defenceless, because even if he managed to get a hold of his wand (which as out of the question, since his hands were bound behind his back now), he would not be able to cast a single spell. Luck would have it that Severus wasn't the only one needing some herbs, however, and so it came that the Potions master wouldn't die that day, as Remus Lupin, his lover, his friend, and his guinea pig when it came to new versions of the Wolfsbane, saved his life for the second time within a couple of hours.

"Severus," said Remus gasping. "Didn't you get the memo?"

"That Sprout re-organized her greenhouses? No, but I found out by myself, thanks."

Lunch found a hungry Severus in the Great Hall. He was sitting at his usual place, next to Remus, and pouring himself some pumpkin juice. Over the course of the meal, Remus snatched three chunks of apple, his mashed potatoes and two éclairs from Severus' plate. The Potions master might have been amused, were it not for the fact that Remus didn't eat the food but Evanesco'ed it.

Remus acted as if someone tried to poison him. Severus chuckled quietly. Oh, no need to get paranoid - again.

As Severus left his seat, he didn't notice the arrow shooting into the back of his vacated chair.

These strange incidents (but not dangerous, said Severus) kept on happening over the next couple of days, and every time Remus was to the rescue, however weird the case might be. Once Peeves made a crude joke about some Gryffindor girl, and instead of threatening the poltergeist with the Bloody Baron, Severus found himself chuckling. A few seconds later, he was laughing downright and couldn't for the life of him stop. Remus, appearing at his shoulder, cast a strong Sobering Charm, which put Severus' amusement to an instant halt. It turned out that Peeves' words had triggered a Glee Spell, incarnated in this very hallway, that would have led to death by an acute overdose amusement for someone with the scarce sense of humour like Severus Snape.

In the teachers' room, his favourite chair tried to eat Severus alive, and were it not for Remus' quick appearance and even quicker thinking, Severus was sure he'd be in the stuffed belly of the transfigured furniture by now.

The armchair was not the only inanimate object attacking the Potions master, though. The more the week progressed, the inaner the 'attacks' became: half empty sweet tins kept shooting out of nowhere (once hitting Severus square in the back of his head, hence the ugly bulge), teacups took on the habit of smashing right in front of his feet these days (Severus was convinced traces of tea leaves went flying out of them), and once it had been a telescope that had been after his neck.

Severus wasn't worried, however. Hogwarts was the safest place on earth, he was sure, for his war duties, after being exposed as a spy, were over. He had no need to worry. Or so he thought. Unwisely.

"The entire staff and even a few of the students are out to get you," Remus said, almost conversationally, while sipping his Wolfsbane ('sipping' was indeed possible now, for Severus had improved the ingredients greatly). "They want you dead or at least in your death-throes..."

Severus barely looked up from his bubbling cauldron. "Hmm..."

"Voldemort put an ad in the Prophet with an award on your head. 'Your heart's desire'," Remus continued softly, watching his lover give non-committal sounds. "Very tempting, indeed." Severus didn't even listen, and Remus smiled serenely.

"Do you know my heart's desire?" he whispered. "Do you know what I crave for?" His smile became mocking as he surveyed Severus' oblivious frame.

"No, you don't," Remus breathed. "Vengeance, my dear Severus..." His eyes took on a steely glint, but Severus still paid him no attention. "Another day, another story, but I haven't forgotten. Oh no, lover, I did not forget..."

"Right you are," Severus said distractedly.

"I know," Remus said with a grin. "You owe me thirty-seven life debts, did you know? And I intend to get my revenge with every single one..." He smiled once more, reminiscing the time that Severus killed him with some fake Lycanthropy cure. Oh, the good old days, where one could commit gruesome atrocities and get away unscathed to start a blank page again... were over.

"Did you say something?" Severus asked at last, as silence fell, looking up from his hunched over position.

"No, love," Remus reassured, "nothing at all..."

-End-