Animalexus

"The unicorn blood is a troublesome point, isn't it, Severus?"

"It is, My Lord." Snape stood near the center of the room, and the Dark Lord paced around him. It made him intensely uncomfortable, but he supposed that was the idea. It was not, however, new. He was still one of the Dark Lord's closest advisers--at least, he was still treated as one--and this was far from the first time he had been alone with him. It was an odd feeling, to be so familiar with the Dark Lord--with 'You-Know-Who,' as Snape's students called him, with 'He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named,' as most of their parents did. Snape would never call him anything but "My Lord," and he refused to even think of him as "Voldemort." There were enough thoughts in Snape's mind that he had to hide; he trained himself to think the way the Dark Lord would like him to as much as possible, Aurors be damned. The dark wizard was generally less fond of theatrics in private than he was in public, but he was no less ruthless.

"The unicorns...the unicorns..." The Dark Lord paused near the door, turned to look back at Snape. "I will not try to deceive them. One must be...cautious...with deception. Some beings cannot be lied to." The Dark Lord's eyes glittered in the dim light, and they sought out Snape's.

"True," Snape agreed easily, readily meeting the Dark Lord's eyes. This was not unusual, Snape reminded himself. The dark wizard was and always had been deeply paranoid, and he freely used his powers as a Legillimens. "Have you another plan?"

The Dark Lord straightened. "I intend to use Marie." He glanced at Nagini, wrapped around his wrist. "She should easily draw a unicorn to her."

"Do you think it will sense the Imperius Curse?"

"I will not deceive them," the Dark Lord repeated, coldly.

Snape's mind was racing, trying to catch up to the other wizard's thinking. If Marie were not under Imperius, she would be free to say anything she liked to the unicorn--up to and including "this is a trap laid by an evil madman"--and there would be no reason for it to cooperate. Perhaps the Dark Lord intended to coerce Marie somehow, but lying because of fear was still lying, and it would not go unnoticed by a unicorn. Unless he was simply planning to use Marie...as bait.

"Precisely," said the Dark Lord. "I am familiar with the ways of unicorns, Severus. Marie can say whatever she wants--tell them the entire truth in excruciating detail, if she cares to--but they will not leave an innocent in need, no matter the consequences."

An innocent in need...unicorn blood...

Realization dawned, and Snape cleared his throat. "Marie will...be placed at considerable risk."

"Yes."

"If for some reason a unicorn does not come..."

"She will die." The Dark Lord's tone was as cold as ever, but there was a note of regret in it, as well. "I don't believe it will come to that, Severus. I hope it does not. But if it does, she will have deserved it. Marie has become unpredictable. A risk. I suppose I was too lenient with her in the beginning," he said, almost wistfully. "It is difficult when you become fond of them."

It took all of Snape's self-control not to laugh, or retch. How had he ever become involved in this? "Indeed," he said, through clenched teeth. "You have realized you could use another maiden, My Lord. A Muggle, even."

"I could." The red eyes flashed. "I will not."

Snape had put it out there; he could do no more. "May I ask how you intend to proceed?"

The Dark Lord held a dagger towards him across the darkness of the room. Snape took it, careful not to touch the heavy blade. He held it up to the meager light, tilted it this way and that. "Poisoned?" he asked, finally.

"Enchanted," the Dark Lord corrected. "I know how devoted you are to your potions, Severus, but poisons can be so unreliable." He paused. "Antidotes can be found. You understand." That was a warning if Snape ever heard one. "No, this is better. Certain but slow. Not even phoenix tears will reverse the effects. Nothing for it but unicorn blood."

Snape returned the knife. "It's a wise plan, My Lord." He fervently hoped the meeting was nearly over. He had not expected to hear this. He had thought that the Dark Lord's greed would win out, that he wouldn't dare put his Animalexus at risk. It took all of Snape's practiced self-control to appear indifferent, academically interested, enthusiastic, even.

Apparently, though, the Dark Lord was feeling conversational. He leaned back against the wall, crossed his arms over his chest. Nagini coiled herself around his neck. "She came back from Lucius' in pitiable condition."

"I haven't seen her, My Lord."

"I doubt he fed her a day." He smiled unkindly. "I suppose I shouldn't have sent her to him."

"Gavin's death has hit him hard," Snape said noncommittally.

"Yes, I heard about the debacle with your horse. Remind me, what is his name?"

Snape set his jaw. "Rinnamash."

"Rinnamash. Yes. Lucius simply couldn't believe you disarmed him in his own home." That smile again. "I do appreciate Lucius, but he has a tendency to act like a petulant child."

Snape did his very best not to think, And so do you, My Lord.

The Dark Lord shifted his weight and the simple change in posture signaled a change in attitude, a shift from the informal to the formal. "When I next call you, Severus, do not come. It will be time. I trust you know what to do?"

Snape nodded curtly. "I do, My Lord."

The dark wizard went to the door, turned back one last time. "I believe Marie suspects some of what is coming."

Snape stood very still. "She is not unintelligent, My Lord."

"You're the teacher, Severus." And then he was gone, down the long dark corridor, vanished already.

***

Marie had felt strangely calm since returning to the Dark Lord's lair from Malfoy Manor. She knew it wasn't rational. She knew that logically, she should be anything but calm. Lucius still had not taken his revenge, though he certainly had not forgiven, nor forgotten. More importantly, Marie knew the Dark Lord's attack on Hogwarts could come any day, and she had serious misgivings about her probable role in that event. It wasn't that the fear wasn't there; it was. But it was enfolded within that odd calm, a peace that seemed to come from some deep, intuitive place. Marie's only troubled thoughts were for Rinnamash, because she had heard nothing of him since he had limped out of the Malfoy stable.

Abruptly, the locks on her door began to grate and grind, and Marie was on her feet instantly. Regardless of what she was feeling, she had no intention of simply giving in and surrendering to whatever fate the Dark Lord had decided to foist upon her. At last the door opened. A figure slipped inside, shut the door quickly, and said, "Lumos."

Snape seemed taken aback to see her standing so close.

"Is it time?" she asked.

He shook his head. "No. Not now." Only then did Marie step back.

Snape looked her over briefly. He looked just as he always did: hair tied back, posture impossibly erect, expression hard and unfathomable. Marie knew that she probably looked like shit. She'd had no opportunity to look in a mirror recently, but she'd lost so much weight at Lucius' that the binding irons on her wrists were no longer taut against her skin. She'd done her best to plait her own hair, but she had nothing to tie it back with, and wisps kept coming loose.

"I presume you've come here for a reason," she said finally, keeping her tone even. "Sir," she added, for good measure.

Snape's jaw tightened. "Rinnamash is all right," he said. "I thought you should know."

Instantly Marie felt relief flood through her. Snape could lie to her, she knew that, but she didn't think he would. Not about this. "How 'all right' is he?"

"He won't be ridden again," Snape said. "I've had a veterinarian out, and that's what he says. But he'll heal, and he'll live."

Marie leaned back against the stone. With relief came exhaustion. She looked to Snape. "Thank you." She noted with some small amusement that he was uncomfortable with the gratitude. "You're not supposed to be here, are you?"

"No." He glanced around her cell, almost as if seeing it for the first time. Yes, she felt like saying, this is it. This is all I have. A bed, stone and two blankets. No pillow. A self-cleansing chamber pot beneath. A sconce on the wall with a single magical candle. House elves came twice a day to bring food and water. Three times a week they brought new clothes and water for washing. The walls were made of 642 stone blocks--she'd counted many, many times--and they were bare, as was the floor. It was dark, and cold, and dreary. Suffocating.

"You'll have to forgive me; the interior decorator won't be by 'til next week."

If Snape heard her, he didn't show it. "Are you afraid, Marie?"

She answered immediately, reflexively. "I am always afraid."

He appeared startled for the briefest of moments. Then he offered a weary smile, and it was perhaps the most honest, unguarded expression Marie had ever seen on his face. Snape reached forward and took one of Marie's hands in his. He ran two long fingers over one of the binding irons, then shook his head slightly and let her hand go. "If you see any chance," he said, very softly, "Any at all...take it."

He turned to go, and Marie said, "You'd better snuff the candle before you leave."

***

Hermione stood outside Rinnamash's stall, stroking the gray horse's nose as he dozed. She wasn't entirely sure what had befallen him, but she knew it had been deliberate and she knew she hadn't ever seen Snape so furious--and that was saying something. Rinnamash did look much better than he had. The wounds on his body were beginning to heal, and his injured leg was bandaged firmly. A wizarding veterinarian had been called out three times--Hermione hadn't known there was such a thing, though it made perfect sense--and on his last visit had given the horse a cautiously optimistic prognosis.

Hermione suppressed a shudder as she remembered the vet's first trip to the stables, just after Snape had returned with Rinnamash. Her professor had been adamant that she not stay in the stable. Hermione had been irate until Hagrid had taken her aside and explained that Rinnamash was very seriously hurt, and that when wizarding veterinarians had to put an animal down, they used a method faster than drugs, faster even than a bullet: the Killing Curse. They had to be specially licensed, and had to keep a separate wand just for that job, and had to record all instances in a log to be forwarded daily to the Ministry. It was easiest on the animals, Hagrid had told her, but it wasn't easy to watch. Hermione believed that.

"You're a fighter though, aren't you?" she whispered, smoothing Rinnamash's forelock down over his face. "You weren't going to let it come to that."

"I know for a fact that he detests having his face touched," a voice said derisively, behind her. Rinnamash pricked his ears forward, and Hermione scowled but pulled her hand away. Snape stepped forward and arched one eyebrow. "I suppose he must be fond of you if he tolerates it."

Hermione supposed that was as close an approximation of a compliment she was ever likely to get from the potions professor. "I was just on my way out," she muttered, turning away.

"Wait, Miss Granger," he commanded.

He's realized he said something nearly civil, Hermione thought, and now he's going to insult me to make up for it. "Sir?"

Snape cleared his throat. "Are you a maiden?"

For a moment, Hermione's mind was entirely blank. Then it was astoundingly appalled. "Am I a what?"

Snape glowered. "Yes or no, Miss Granger."

"And just what does that have to do with--"

"I suppose it doesn't really matter," Snape muttered, more to himself than to her. "You really are the only choice." He straightened, and looked back at her. Hermione searched his eyes but found nothing there she could interpret. "I could...use your help. Are you willing to go into the Forbidden Forest with me?"

Hermione stared blankly.
"It would have to be in secret. The others would certainly disapprove of me asking a student to do this." Rinnamash snorted in a manner that sounded suspiciously like laughter, and abruptly Snape seemed to realize that, worse than making no sense at all, his hurried grumblings were making the wrong kind of sense. He raised a hand to his face and pinched the bridge of his nose between two fingers. "Ah, bloody..." Hermione felt a rush of relief as she became certain that her professor had not, in fact, gone off the deep end once and for all. He tried again. "I would like you to go into the Forest to help me deliver a message. A warning." He glanced at his horse in the stall, behind him. "It could help Marie."

Rinnamash flicked his ears forward and whickered softly.

"I'll come."

"Bring the invisibility cloak."

Hermione started. "How did you--"

Snape glowered down at her as though she were a particularly pathetic and repulsive form of life. "You've been coming down here for days; I am quite certain that the Headmaster does not consider fawning over my horse to be an appropriate reason for a student to leave the castle. Potter's, is it?"

Hermione picked up the cloak from the stall door. "Er, yes."

The potions professor's eyes glinted. "Stolen it, have you?"

She could feel her cheeks flush. "Of course not. I've only--"

"Borrowed it." He smirked. "I see."

***

Snape spent very little time in what passed for a teachers' lounge at Hogwarts. It was an ugly room, long and narrow and somewhat tomblike. The rain had let up some, but an unpleasant mist had settled in its place, and it was gray as ever. Even the stained glass panels at the far end of the room were dark. Only the plentiful candlelight saved the room from outright gloom.

"You might as well come out and make conversation," he called. A small tabby cat pushed its way past one of the heavy drapes framing the windows. Within seconds, it had changed its form and become Minerva McGonagall. She nonchalantly walked toward a table near the door. "Tea, Severus?"

"Are you certain you wouldn't prefer a saucer of milk?" he asked acerbically.

Minerva scowled but handed him a teacup, then sat in the chair opposite him. "Albus seemed almost relieved." She sipped her own tea. "I suppose I can understand that. It's hardest to wait."

Dumbledore had just left for a final consult with Shacklebolt and the other Aurors. Snape had told him, to the best of his knowledge, where and when the Dark Lord's attack on Hogwarts was to take place. Snape was fortunate that the Dark Lord had made no secret of abducting the two wardsmen; it meant the Death Eaters would be expecting Aurors at Hogwarts. He wouldn't have to concoct an elaborate lie to explain how Dumbledore knew about the attack.

Minerva sighed. "I do pity whoever that bastard finds to lure a unicorn."

"It's Marie." The words were out almost before Snape had time to think them.

The witch looked up, startled. "You didn't tell Albus that."

"It cannot possibly surprise you that I tell lies." Snape was relatively certain that the Headmaster believed that Snape always gave him the whole, unadulterated truth. He encouraged the misconception.

He had lied to Hermione, too. Snape had taken her into the Forbidden Forest, to where he suspected the Dark Lord would bring Marie, and had used her as bait. Three unicorns had appeared during the time they had been out there, and each time Snape saw the tell-tale flash of white, he sent a barrage of harmless but spectacular spells its way. As a warning, it wasn't much, but he hoped it might be enough to convince the unicorns that young maidens in the wood might be best avoided for a time. Of course, Hermione had only gone with him because he told her it might help Marie. If anything, it would do just the opposite.

Snape was an excellent liar. He may have been better at it than anything else in the world. While he would not have claimed to be a good man, he didn't count his skill as a liar against his character; lies could be used for both good and ill.

"I'm not surprised that you lie," Minerva said, carefully. "I am surprised that you lie to Albus."

Snape held Minerva's gaze steadily. "You are, of course, free to chase him down the hall and tell him the whole truth." He swirled his teacup, but did not drink. "Although you would then have to explain what you were doing skulking behind the drapes."

Minerva cleared her throat and sat up straighter. "I don't suppose it makes any difference," she said. She set her saucer down. "I am sorry for Marie."

"So am I," Snape admitted. "I've become rather fond of her." Snape winced inwardly as he realized he was repeating the Dark Lord's words. He shook his head, once. A heavy silence hung between them.

"And how are you getting on?" Minerva asked at last, her voice reedier than usual.

Snape sneered. "If I'd known this was going to be an interrogation, I would not have accepted the invitation."

Minerva's lips pressed more tightly together, but she knew him too well to truly take offense. Snape knew that this was as close as she ever came to asking about his status as a spy. This was her way of asking if he was all right, if his secrets were still safe.

"On that count, Minerva," he said, rising and going to the window, "You know as well as I." It was an unsatisfactory answer, and he could see it on her face, reflected in the glass. He wasn't being deliberately reticent this time, though. Snape often asked himself the same question. Did the Dark Lord know? He suspected, at the very least. The Dark Lord was insane, yes. Fanatical. Cruel. He was also distressingly intelligent. Would Snape even know it, when the game was up? Would he have even a few seconds' warning? "I'm getting on well enough," he added, belatedly.

When she spoke, Minerva's voice was cautious, careful. "That's the truth, Severus?"

He turned. "Would I lie to you?"

Snape couldn't read her expression in the long silence that followed. She opened her mouth once, closed it again, before saying, "Severus--"

At that moment he felt the sharp, sudden pain from his Mark. Snape hid the grimace well; he had lots of practice. "It's time."

***

Marie couldn't tell how much time passed. With every minute, she could feel a bit of her calm slipping away, fear edging in to replace it. By the time she heard the locks on her door grind and turn, she was just this side of blind panic. Still, her resolve not to go quietly held.

There were three of them. They always seemed to come in threes. Marie knew they would expect her to be back against the opposite wall, as usual. Instead, she rushed through the door the moment it opened, and ran her elbow into the first Death Eater's throat with the full force of her body behind it. He staggered and choked, and Marie swerved and tried to run. It had worked once before, but not this time--a spell knocked her off her feet and in moments strong hands had pulled her to her feet and shoved her against the wall.

"No magic, Bella!" a man's voice hissed. "Our Lord said no magic!"

Marie could hear the sneer in Bellatrix's voice. "You think he'd be happier if she escaped again?"

They didn't want to use magic--the Dark Lord didn't want them to use magic. That could only be an advantage for Marie. She shifted her weight ever so slightly, but the man holding her felt it and tightened his grip. Bellatrix laughed unpleasantly. "Our lamb doesn't want to go easily to the slaughter, does she?" Bellatrix grabbed one of Marie's wrists and wrenched it high, then shoved her against the stone with a surprising strength. Marie's inhaled sharply, air hissing between her teeth. "Behave yourself, little lamb," Bellatrix whispered, her breath hot on Marie's neck.

They tied her wrists in front of her, the rope crossing over the binding irons, and a gag was forced into her mouth and pulled tight. To an Animalexus, that was at least as much of a restriction as her bound hands.

One of the Death Eaters spun her around, and Marie found herself facing Bellatrix's sneering visage. The woman almost looked sane. Almost. Bellatrix looked Marie deliberately up and down, then met her eyes. "Ready for the sacrifice?"