Crucio

Disclaimer: All recognizable characters and settings belong to J.K. Rowling.

Chapter 3: Sinking

Severus came back to himself, stumbling a bit with Potter's weight so unevenly distributed in his arms--Potter was teetering enough so that his head was flopping so far backward, Severus thought that it might simply snap right off his neck. Deciding Dumbledore would consider a decapitated Potter not in keeping with his vow, Severus shifted him so that his head rested more securely in the crook of his elbow. Not wanting Potter in his arms for even a second longer than was necessary, Severus hurried past the boundary lines of the wards, chanting a wandless Alohomora as soon as they reached the plain wooden door.

Severus wasted no time in relieving himself of his burden, depositing Potter without much thought to how he would land, on the worn settee. With Potter's head no longer in danger of separating from his body, nor in contact with any part of him, Severus went back to the open door and with a few terse words, he sent his silver Patronus into the starless night. Sparing only a second to watch Lily's doe canter away, he closed the door solidly, using the same locking Spells he had used on Umbridge's office door.

Grimacing in distaste, Severus went back over to Potter. He summoned a chair from the tiny kitchen, not wanting to kneel as he was forced to do in the Dark Lord's presence. He would not kneel before Potter.

He knew very well that Albus would be furious--no disappointed, would be the Headmaster's word of choice--about what he was going to do, but he found himself without another choice. He had very little time before he would be summoned, and he had no idea how long he could leave Potter trapped in his mind, without giving him permanent damage.

Brushing aside the nagging of his usually dormant conscience, Severus chanted, "Legilimens," and entered Potter's mind once more. It was becoming disgustingly routine; he didn't even have to navigate anymore. He simply brought his own conscious to where he knew the barrier would be waiting. And it was. A wall that had thwarted Severus five times now.

He had wanted to dismantle the barricade and haul the ungrateful brat out by his proverbial ears the first time in the Infirmary, but Albus had insisted on his usual coddling. "Harry's is a gentle soul," Albus had admonished, to which Severus had rolled his eyes. Potter, just like his sod of a father, was anything but gentle. This would be no worse than any other time the foolish boy had gotten himself into trouble, Severus told himself firmly.

Bracing himself for any ricocheting pain, Severus began pushing against Potter's barricade. The screams, as Severus put his weight against the surprisingly strong defense, were not fearful, not painful. They were simply silent shouts of protest. Just as they had been when Severus had first tried this in the infirmary. But this time, Severus paid no heed. He simply pushed harder, and with each passing minute, the screams became louder, more insistent, and Severus could actually feel Harry's flailing limbs against his knees. He shoved harder at Potter's fading barricade, until finally, Potter's mind was soaked in agony, and then Severus began tearing, clawing at the barrier, raising his shields higher to escape the pain he was creating in both their minds now.

No.

The word reverberated around Severus' thoughts.

Potter was pleading with him to stop.

But he was weakening, so Severus had to ignore the pleas as he pushed forward, stripping Potter of every feeling of security and dignity he might have had. An attack, where Black's had been a gentle caress, and Potter had simply allowed his shields to fall as soon as he felt his godfather's presence.

But here, now with his teacher, Potter was not willing to give in. Severus could feel his hatred...his terror. Severus dug as deep as he could, ignoring his own unease, and with a final silent hiss that chilled Severus to his core, Potter's barricade fell.

Potter was free.

Severus reached through the rubble and wrenched him out of his forced imprisonment. Potter screamed silently against the assault, but his struggles stilled as Severus forced him back to reality.

So weakened by his efforts, Severus almost couldn't pull himself out, but Potter's unconscious mind was beginning to find purchase.

He forced himself to retreat.

It took more effort than it should have. More energy than he had, but finally he too was free.

Slumping against his chair, Severus was unable to keep up a pretense of cool fortitude. And to his horror, he found his hands trembling, shaking uncontrollably. Swearing softly, Severus drew in a slow breath, occluding his mind and effectively detaching the experience from his emotions. His knees wavered only the tiniest bit as he stood and moved away from the boy, who was drenched in sweat. His body was only half on the settee now, his limbs bent in agitated angles.

Severus made himself turn away from the picture of utter defeat, and went to the washroom to prepare himself to meet the Dark Lord.

--

Agony.

Harry didn't want to open his eyes. He didn't want to look up and have to see Snape's smirking face. Not until he could stop shaking.

Even after he'd wound his fingers tightly together, still they trembled. And his teeth were chattering noisily against one another. Snape would sneer at him, and call him weak. Tell him he deserved it, that he'd finally gotten his comeuppance for all those years of doing exactly as he pleased, and getting away with it.

And if he opened his eyes, he'd have to see Sirius as well. He didn't want Sirius to see the betrayal he knew would be in his eyes. It couldn't have been his fault. Sirius had said that Harry had allowed him into his mind before. Had been able to free him...gently.

Snape's approach had been anything but gentle, and Harry felt his stomach roiling with bile as he tried to steer his thoughts away from the pain he was still feeling. Pain that wasn't even real. Not real, he told himself firmly. Snape hadn't actually done anything to him. He hadn't hit him, hadn't thrown dead cockroaches at him.

Harry kept up this mantra, but it did little good. He still didn't want to open his eyes. He squeezed them tightly closed once more, before with a deep breath, Harry made his face relax and finally allowed his eyelids to smooth their wrinkles, and finally he pulled them apart.

But nobody was there. The room was empty. With a rush of panic as he realized he wasn't lying on Dudley's worn spread, Harry clawed at the cushions beneath him as he tried to sit up. There were heavy footsteps coming from a dark corridor stretching out from the bare room, and then Snape, in silky black robes, was coming straight for him.

To rip him from where he was hiding.

Harry scrambled to his feet, losing his balance twice as he tried to stand. Harry backed up as Snape strode across the threshold; Harry thudded into the solid surface behind him. He tried to push back the fear as he looked into the soulless black eyes. The way they were flashing in irritation didn't help.

But Snape didn't stop. He continued on past Harry, who flinched as Snape's arm brushed up against his chest, and then Snape was moving onward into a tiny little kitchen. When Snape was safely past, Harry swallowed through the thick twist of his throat, trying to push down the irrational fear he felt bubbling upward.

But there wasn't anything to be afraid of, he tried to convince himself again as he watched Snape in the flesh. It had only been in his mind. Snape hadn't really hurt him. But Harry's fingers, as they continued to shake, told him otherwise.

Harry watched Snape intently as the professor fiddled with something that looked oddly like a miniature cauldron, and then he kept watching as Snape pivoted back around and stalked past him again to rifle through some papers on a rickety desk in the corner. Harry finally managed to swallow enough times so that he thought he could speak without his voice giving him away.

"Where's Sirius?" He hadn't quite managed the question smoothly after all. Snape didn't pause in his movements. The silence stretched through the two small rooms. Harry licked his overly dry lips as he waited. "What happened?" he asked after he felt he'd waited long enough. Snape still didn't answer. Harry shifted, knocking up against what felt like a doorknob; it jiggled against his back.

Snape whirled around. Harry cringed back against the door.

"Get away from the door," Snape snapped. Harry stared at him, his feet not moving even as he thought he was telling them to. Snape came toward him with a low snarl. Harry had nowhere to go, but he was still unprepared when Snape grabbed his arm roughly, spun him around and plunked him back down on the settee.

"Sit and be silent," he ordered, his voice sharper than usual as he jerked his fingers back from Harry's flesh. Harry bit his lip as he rubbed at the abused patch of skin, pinking now with Snape's fingerprints. He opened his mouth to ask about Sirius again, but Snape's wand snapped up to wave menacingly in his face. "Don't test me, Potter," he warned.

Harry mashed his lips together, to keep from snapping at the professor. He didn't want a repeat of their experience earlier. Surely Snape could make it even worse the next time he was subjected to the curse. For all he knew, he was Snape's prisoner now, and Snape had killed Sirius-

"The blood wards are no longer in place."

The statement brought Harry out of his panicked musings. His eyes snapped up. Snape did not look at all amused by this bit of news. His lips were stretched in thin lines of disapproval across the lower portion of his face.

"Death Eaters entered as soon as the wards fell. Your godfather could not come with us."

Harry stared up at Snape in utter confusion. Forgetting that Snape had ordered him not to speak, he demanded, "You left Sirius there?"

Snape gazed at him with indifference. "I was ordered by Professor Dumbledore to remove you from your relative's house. Black is not my concern."

"Well, he's my concern," Harry returned, trying to keep his voice as even as Snape's, but it came out too angry. "He's my godfather. We can't just leave him there to fend off Voldemort."

Snape's face shifted in muted anger. "Don't say his name," he hissed, as though the name had burned him somehow, and Harry shifted closer to the back cushions as the resentment radiated from the man.

"You-You Know Who," Harry forced himself to say, "will kill him."

Snape's features had relaxed with Harry's compliance. "It is possible," he agreed easily. "Or perhaps," he said with a laconic shrug, "the Dark Lord will prefer to keep him as bait along with your relatives." Harry's lips parted as he stared at the heartless professor. Bait...

"We have to go back for them," he whispered desperately, slinking forward without meaning to as Snape's words sunk in fully.

Snape leaned in toward him, forcing Harry back again until there was plenty of space between them. "Did you not listen to what I just said, Potter? The wards around your aunt's house no longer exist. You would be killed the instant you stepped onto Privet Drive." Snape was speaking very slowly, enunciating each word.

"But I can't just sit here and do nothing," Harry told him in a strangled voice, though he made certain this time that he stayed well away from Snape.

Snape's eyes narrowed into slits. "That is precisely what you will do, Potter. Sit here, until I return."

Harry stared up at the man. Snape was mad. Harry was sure of it. Snape had heard him in the Infirmary. How he'd explained that he had only been minutes away from finding some way to get to the Ministry to save Sirius. And yet the professor had purred the order without any sort of hesitation, and he was actually expecting Harry to obey.

But it seemed Snape was actually expecting the exact opposite. With his mouth turned down at the corners, Snape waved his wand and Harry felt an odd sort of sensation, a pressure forcing his backside to sink deeper into the cushions. Reflexively, Harry wriggled as he sunk down, trying to push himself up from the settee. He was stuck. His eyes darted to Snape.

"What are you doing?" he asked, surprised by how meekly his voice echoed in the run-down room.

"I am neither stupid nor naïve, Potter," Snape told him sourly as he re-adjusted his robes for the third time since he'd entered the room; he still held his wand. "You will remain here."

He pivoted on his heel, not waiting for Harry to respond.

"Wait!" Harry cried hoarsely as he struggled against the capturing cushion. Snape ignored him completely, finishing his strides to the door. "Please!" Harry heard himself half-whispering desperately as he twisted as much as he could toward the door, but he had no time to hate himself for sounding like a baby. And Snape was already curling around the open door, his black robes slithering around the wood. And then the door was closed again, with a firm thud.

Harry's fingers dug against the cushions as he fought in futile effort to force whatever spell Snape had used, to end itself. He clawed until his fingers were raw from the effort, and the beads of perspiration had slipped past his eyebrows. And then he sat rigidly, the tears of anger and frustration indiscernible from the sweat as he stared at the door.

--

The Mark began to burn almost as soon as Severus put the Locking Spells in place once more. He'd barely had enough time to bury all thoughts of Potter. At least he had had a chance to put a block in the boy's mind. The Dark Lord would be unable to find anything but worthless thoughts of Quidditch matches and lazing about with his friends. The Dark Lord would be very bored indeed.

Grimacing against the pain along his left arm, Severus straightened his robes once more before masking himself, and then he strode beyond the wards and Apparated to his second master.

Number Four Privet Drive was burning.

He couldn't see it of course. Not from the front yard of what used to be Riddle Sr.'s grand estate where Yaxley was waiting for him. But it was the first bit of news the other man relayed, his eyes full of fervor. Severus nodded in appreciation at the news, not surprised at all that the Dark Lord had given such an order. Not once he would have realized that he'd been foiled once again.

By a boy. Always by a mere child.

Severus wondered fleetingly if Potter's relatives were still alive. It was likely at least one of them would be. He didn't need to spare any thought to Black. Yaxley's second pronouncement was that the Dark Lord had a surprise for him.

"Bellatrix wanted to kill him," Yaxley told him as they walked together toward the ornate front door.

"Black is more useful alive," Severus told him smoothly. Yaxley smiled as they ascended the stairs.

"He will be just as useful once you and Bellatrix finish with him," he said, looking very pleased at the prospect.

Severus' lips lifted a little at the thought of Black, bound and waiting for whatever torture the Dark Lord was in the mood for. Pity he would not be able to participate. Albus would be somewhat more than disappointed with that news. Especially as Severus would enjoy the activity a little too much for the Headmaster's tolerance.

The door opened for them as they stepped onto the porch.

The insides were as dim as they always were--lit only with a few candle sconces along the walls toward the sitting room. Severus followed Yaxley, allowing the other man to lead the way as he preferred. The room was strangely quiet, with only two Death Eaters flanking the Dark Lord, who stood squarely in front of the cold fireplace. Yaxley knelt first, bowing his head low before Severus had even dropped to his knees.

Both men remained in their positions until, with an indifferent flick of his fingers, Voldemort vanished their masks, and bid them rise.

"My Lord," Severus and Yaxley said in one voice. The Dark Lord turned his inhuman eyes to Severus.

"Severus," he breathed in his tantalizing voice. "Yaxley has told you that I have a surprise for you?" he asked, though of course, he already knew the answer. Severus nodded humbly anyway.

"Yes, my Lord," he whispered gratefully. The Dark Lord's eyes glowed.

"And have you any news for me?" he inquired, as though he had only a polite interest in the matter. Severus nodded smoothly.

"Dumbledore took Potter through his relatives' Floo earlier this evening."

"And where is he now?" Again, the polite query.

"Dumbledore told me only that Potter would not be found where he is," Severus answered without pause. Albus had given him every answer that he would need tonight.

The Dark Lord studied his Potions Master. "He trusts you less and less, Severus," he said thoughtfully. "One must wonder if it is truly necessary for you to remain at Hogwarts."

Severus dipped his chin in utmost respect. "Dumbledore's trust in me has not changed, my Lord," he murmured. "He is more worried for the boy's safety than he ever has been. He knows, my Lord, that your time is close," he finished in a reverent voice. The Dark Lord smiled.

"As he should, my Severus," he agreed, reaching out a cracked and yellowed fingernail to caress down Severus' black sweep of hair.

"I will find the boy," Severus promised fervently, bowing his head low again so that the Dark Lord could rest his dead fingers on the top of his head.

"Find him for me, Severus," the Dark Lord echoed quietly. Severus' head fell lower in acceptance of his second master's order. Voldemort withdrew his claws. Severus looked up at him once more. "Your childhood tormentor is yours, Severus. Do with him what you will. But do not kill him," he cautioned. "Harry's relatives might not be enough to lure him here." He smiled as much as his lipless mouth would allow. "They are not fond of him," he explained. "It was easy enough for Lucius to persuade his Aunt to give up her protection of him."

Severus' own lip lifted a fraction in response.

"It was fortuitous that Black arrived when he did," he agreed. It must have seemed an easy decision. Allow Lucius to remove Black from the premises, and to take Harry away from them so that the murderer would never return. Petunia would have been frightened enough to willingly transfer protection of her nephew to the well-bred man. And Lucius could be very persuasive. They would have never known they had more to fear from him than the coward Black.

The Dark Lord gazed at him for a moment before dismissing the discussion with a slight wave of his hand toward the Death Eater to his left. "Wormtail." Pettigrew scuttled forward at the command. "Show Severus where to find your old friend," Voldemort directed without even looking at the little man. Pettigrew winced a little at the reminder of his betrayal and shuffled quickly toward the door. Severus bowed low, grazing his lips against the Dark Lord's knuckles before straightening and following, at a suitable pace, after the rat.