Crucio

Severus scowled at the little round orb on his desk. Potter was desperately gripping Black's waist. And from the way he was shaking, Potter was obviously sobbing--with joy that Black was alive. Black hadn't even been able to walk on his own, like some pathetic cripple. He had done nothing for Potter. And yet, there Potter sat, clinging to Black as though Black had defeated the Dark Lord himself. Severus' scowl deepened.

Black's mouth was barely moving as he whispered words that would be meant to soothe his godson. And the brat was inexplicably responding, his face suffused with relief. Though Black's features were oddly soft, he looked murderous. No doubt Severus would be hearing from him before morning broke. As if he could have helped Potter's state of complete collapse.

But of course, he would be blamed. Black could rot in hell for all he cared. He would not justify himself to the other man. He had done what he had to do; he could easily squash the vague twinges of regret for hurting the boy when they rose up without his permission He had saved both of their miserable lives, and yet he knew that would count for nothing with Potter and Black. They would blame him. And this time, it hadn't been his fault; he hadn't had a choice.

With a soft snarl, Severus waved his fingers over the orb. It went dark. He had a moment's irrational urge to hurl the glass viewing plane against the wall. It would be satisfying to watch it split into hundreds of tiny shards. It had been used more in the past few days, than it ever had been since Severus acquired it. But he wouldn't need it any longer. Black could keep watch over his beloved godson now.

Severus spun away from the desk, and the telling orb. It would be a few hours before the Dark Lord would grow impatient to complete his plans. A shower first, he decided, pulling off his boots and cloak quickly. The stench of both Black and his filthy accommodations clung heavily to him. He would wash the Dark Lord's breath from his skin as well. And then he would sleep. It would be much worse if he was tired.

Severus stepped into the pristine shower stall, completely naked. The hot water instantly burned his skin. But he kept his teeth tightly together as he dealt with the heat, as he performed the same ritual he always used before he was summoned. To prepare his body for pain. Just as his nerves began to protest, he plucked the soap from its perch and began to scrub. He covered every inch of his body with the harsh, gritty soap.

When he finished, he placed the soap back where it belonged, with practiced movements and gripped his left forearm, digging his nails into the Mark until it brought a gasp from his throat, trying futiley to rid himself of the thing he loathed. His nails continued to gouge the blemish as he stepped back under the soaking jet. He urged the rest of the filth, that had collected over the years, to be washed away.

--

Sirius grunted in pain as he came into awareness of his surroundings. Every centimeter of his body was screaming out in protest as he shifted slightly. He hadn't meant to fall asleep, but at least Harry had gone back to sleep as well. Sirius' arms were numb, still stiffly in place around his godson's back. But he didn't regret the position he was in. He was simply grateful to have Harry back.

The sky was dark now, from what Sirius could see through the tiny window above their heads. Still exhausted, he moved his head only enough to quickly survey the room. Dodgy was curled into a little ball beside the bed; he hadn't even made himself a place to rest.

Sirius narrowed his eyes slightly at the tray of food that was perched precariously on the little table beside the bed. The bread looked stale. Harry would need to eat as soon as he woke up. He wondered briefly if he'd even be able to get his godson to eat, since the obviously kind-hearted elf hadn't been able to.

But Sirius put the thought aside as his grey eyes spotted Harry's wand, neatly tucked behind the tray of untouched food. At least Snape hadn't deprived Harry of that. Sirius narrowed his eyes as he gazed at the closed door across the corridor. Whatever Snape had done to his godson, he had allowed Harry to keep what was essentially a weapon. And from what Sirius had gathered from Harry's past school years' efforts, he was a very skilled young wizard when it came to defense.

Harry shifted a little against Sirius' chest. Harry's cheek was warm against his bare shoulder. His godson mumbled something; Sirius bent his head a little closer to the dark mop of hair, but no more words made it out of Harry's lips. Sirius frowned, attempting to figure out just what had gone on here that would explain why Harry was still clinging to him, even in sleep.

Perhaps he was waking up...

"Harry?" he prodded gently.

Harry stirred again. Sirius gave the boys' shoulder a light squeeze, and waited rather impatiently while Harry lifted his groggy, green eyes upward; they widened, just as they had when Sirius had arrived.

"Sirius?" He blinked several times, shaking his head slowly. "You're really here..."

Sirius smiled at him, his face filled with warmth. "Did you fancy me a nightmare?"

Harry smiled, but his eyes were much too dark to make the expression anything other than sad. He shook his head. "Snape said--he said you were--that no one could-" He shook his head as his eyes glazed with tears again, but this time they didn't leak past the rims.

Sirius squeezed him again, but Harry was almost rigid against him now. "I'm all right," Sirius reassured him, though in reality, it was a lie. He felt almost as close to passing out as he had last night. "I'm sorry, Harry." His words were sorrowful, his chest aching. He had to force himself to ask, "What happened? Did you suffer any other Crucios? Did Snape hurt you?" His hands were already trembling with the last question. He held his breath as he waited for an answer.

Harry swallowed noisily as he slid his eyes to the small bureau at the foot of the bed. His cheeks were stained with red. With embarrassment...or anger?

"Harry?"

"I don't--I'm not sure," Harry said, the words so soft that Sirius had to lean down again to catch them. His eyebrows were squished together with confusion. But he didn't have the chance to ask Harry what he meant.

There was a soft click from behind and instinctively, Sirius swung his head about. Harry jerked sharply against the sudden shift. And for an instant, Sirius' and Harry's eyes were locked with Snape's narrowed black gaze.

There was absolutely no trace of emotion in the gaze; his eyes were cold and dispassionate. Caring nothing for Harry's suffering. Cold anger began to spread slowly through Sirius' chest. Snape had hurt his godson. It didn't matter that Snape had saved Sirius' life. He would pay for whatever he'd done to Harry.

"Touching," Snape sneered through his lips.

Sirius stared at him. He could feel his arms beginning to quiver against Harry's back. "What did you do to him?" he whispered fiercely. Spittle flecked across Harry's hair with the words.

"Do to him?" Snape echoed, his lips twisted into a malicious smile. "If I hadn't been here, Black, your godson would most certainly be dead." He paused to consider the pair. "And you as well, or had you forgotten?" he drawled.

"And that makes whatever you did to Harry all right, then?" Sirius demanded, his voice breaking from its whisper. "Just so long as you've kept him alive?"

"I have done nothing to him," Snape shot back, his back straightening with what might have been indignance for anyone else. Anyone but Snape, with his self-righteous hatred.

"Nothing?" Sirius' arms tightened protectively around Harry. "He would barely let me touch him. And he was begging with me to stop as soon as I did."

"It is not my concern if Potter is averse to your touch," Snape told him disdainfully. "Perhaps you should endeavor not to touch him, unless of course you enjoy that sort of thing..." Snape's eyes were glittering now.

Harry stiffened against Sirius. Sirius squeezed his godson reassuringly. "Ignore him," he commanded lightly. Then he gently pulled Harry away from him. He turned slowly to face Snape fully, but kept his hand on Harry's shoulder.

He could feel the fury heating his neck and face as he glared at the other man. "Harry thought I was you last night, Snape. Why would my godson need to beg you not to touch him?" His voice was rising steadily.

Snape didn't seem to register the question or the anger. "For the same reason he bears Umbridge's scars. He is as stubborn as his father."

Sirius' vision blurred with white-hot fury.

He hadn't realized he'd lunged toward Snape until he found himself sitting on the floor, looking around dazedly at a dimly lit mass of shapes and muted colors.

"Sirius!"

"Perhaps you should ask Potter why he would have rather died than allow me to assist him...he almost got his wish." The words were muffled and blurred. And Sirius wasn't exactly sure who had said them. The darkness was very enticing though.

--

Black slumped against Potter, his eyes almost closed. The boy gripped Black's bare arms as he fumbled, trying to keep his balance with the sudden weight of his dazed godfather. Potter managed to stay upright, so Severus turned his eyes to the sleeping house-elf.

"Dodgy," he snapped impatiently. Dodgy sprang up from the floor, as though he was on strings.

"What can Dodgy do for Master Snape, sir?" he asked crisply, not a trace of sleep in his voice or posture.

"I am leaving. Touch Potter's amulet to contact me if he enters a Cruciatus cycle," Severus directed, repeating the same words he'd used the other times he'd left Potter alone in the shack.

"But..."

Severus turned his head away from Dodgy at the whispered word. Potter was staring at him, his emerald eyes blinking rapidly. Severus almost pivoted toward the sitting room, but Potter was simply gazing at him, the look holding neither anger nor defiance. And Severus heard himself biting out a demanded, "What Potter?"

Potter held his gaze, his fingers flexing nervously against Black's biceps. "Nothing...sir." Potter's head was waving back and forth briskly in denial, but his eyes gave him away as they darted to Black's face.

Severus clenched his jaw and pivoted away, retracing his steps back into his room, irritated at himself for giving in to the wounded look on Potter's face. He shouldn't care that Potter looked completely helpless...almost pleading. He didn't care.

He wrenched open the cupboard door and deftly retrieved a minty green potion. With a sharp flick of his wrist, the door closed again and Severus was stepping with loud footsteps out the door and across the hall.

He paused before he crossed over the threshold into Potter's room.

Potter was watching him warily; he'd obviously been waiting tensely for him to reemerge from the other room. They stared at one another, Potter's chest rising and falling more rapidly than it should have been. But Severus told himself he didn't care that a sixteen year-old boy was afraid of him, no matter that the trembling of his own fingers told him otherwise. His students should fear him. He ignored the trembling and allowed the thought of Potter's fear to buoy him. He pushed the vial from his fingers. It floated lazily toward Potter, stopping and hovering in front of his face.

"It will dull the pain and help him sleep." Severus' voice was flat.

Potter blinked, his eyebrows furrowing in surprise. Giving him no chance to comment, Severus spun away in a flourish of silky black robes.

Harry stared after the Potions master, his throbbing heart slowing as he watched Snape's robes disappear.

A soft moan escaped Sirius' lips and Harry glanced down quickly. "Are you all right?" he asked anxiously. Sirius didn't even attempt to move, except for a slow nod of his head. "Can you get up, Sirius?"

Harry watched Sirius grimace, the expression even more unsettling from Harry's upside down vantage point. "Don't...think so," he said, almost breathlessly.

"Dodgy is happy to help Harry Potter's godfather," the little elf interjected eagerly, coming to stand right next to Sirius; his hands were clasped tightly together as though he was trying to restrain himself from helping before he was given permission.

Harry tried to smile a little at the well-meaning elf, but it didn't come out right. He glanced warily at the vial still waiting in front of his nose before tentatively closing his fingers around it. "Do you think it's safe, Sirius?" he asked, turning his eyes to his godfather's pale face. He hated to even have bother him with the possibility that Snape had given him a vial full of poison, but Snape had simply given it to him...just like that, no strings, and no sneering words. If it hadn't been Snape, Harry would have said he had been feeling something akin to compassion.

Sirius' half-smile looked like a frown. Or maybe it was another grimace. "He...didn't...won't hurt me."

Harry tilted his head in confusion. He hates you, he wanted to point out logically, but it seemed oddly cruel to say that to Sirius. "But it's Snape." It was the kindest way to put it.

Sirius' eyes were glassy but Harry could see that he was struggling with something. Something he couldn't understand. "...he...didn't allow Bellatrix to torture me...used a spell." Sirius was almost panting the words.

Harry's fingers tightened angrily around the little vial. The words hurt so much, Harry almost couldn't breathe. "So he could have you all to himself?" His words trembled as much as his fingers.

Sirius' eyes crinkled with even more confusion, even as he winced against some invisible pain. "He...didn't. "Bellatrix hurt me...Snape...stopped the pain."

Harry stared at Sirius, shocked beyond rational thought. Snape... Snape hadn't tortured Sirius? But he had admitted he had...hadn't he?

"Harry." The word was a rustled breath. Harry blinked, trying to focus. "...did he mean...helping you?" A light sheen of sweat beaded over Sirius' brow as he forced himself to complete the sentence. Harry's stomach flip-flopped at the question. He didn't want to talk about this now...not with Sirius in so much pain. Sirius would expend too much energy worrying over him. He didn't think Sirius should be having so much trouble talking...as if each breath hurt him.

"He stopped the Cruciatus Curses," Harry answered evasively. "Dodgy can help me get you into the bed," he tacked on quickly. Sirius tried to shake his head, but he had to give up mid-motion.

"Harry..." It was odd--Sirius' voice was both concerned and slightly reproving at the same time. But perhaps Harry was only imagining it because he was purposely trying to avoid a conversation about what had happened in Sirius' absence. But Sirius didn't seem to be able to finish whatever he'd wanted to say. And he was grimacing again.

Harry turned his face up to find Dodgy still waiting impatiently for them.

"Gently, Dodgy, okay?"

Dodgy nodded happily.

--

The Mark began to burn even before he'd reached the door; Severus swore silently to himself. He preferred to expend some energy by walking outside before a summons, if he was aware it would be coming. But there would be no time to prepare his mind further this time. He placed the customary Locking Spells on the door as he slammed it behind him. He didn't think Potter was quite stupid enough to actually attempt to drag a nearly-unconscious man with him as he escaped, but there was no reason to take chances.

Once he was past the wards, Severus masked himself. He closed his eyes, took a deep, strengthening breath and turned on the spot. He popped back into existence in the next instant, He drew in a harsh breath.

Privet Drive was consumed in flames.

The entire street was burning. And the Dark Lord was watching placidly from the ashes where Potter had once dwelled. His lips stretched over his teeth as Severus joined the other Death Eaters in the circle. The expression was not a smile; Severus immediately dropped to his knees and prostrated himself.

"You have failed me." Disappointment soaked like blood through the Dark Lord's voice. And fury titillated the words.

"Forgive me, my Lord," Severus begged, breathing in ashes as he pleaded. "Dumbledore found Potter. He is under heavy guard, my Lord-"

Without a sound to warn him, Severus' body was seized with pain. He gasped harshly, soot filling his mouth and lungs. He began coughing violently as his lungs tried to expel the ashes. He was writhing against the ground as the agony tore through him, even as the coughing turned to retching. The pain didn't recede, even as Severus began vomiting, the dull greenish substance ejecting in brutal spasms across the black earth.

"I had such plans for Harry, Severus."

The voice was almost submerged beneath the pain, but Severus struggled to pull himself away from the tidal wave that was threatening to drown him. He needed to focus on the words...to keep the pain at bay, so that he would be ready as soon as the Dark Lord was satisfied that he had been punished enough.

"I am beginning to wonder, Severus, if you are of any use to me any longer."

Severus struggled against the cold ground, wanting to assure the Dark Lord that he needed him, but the words wouldn't form in his brain. His stomach was emptied now, and he continued to cough sporadically between the hisses of pain through his teeth. He couldn't seem to force his jaw apart. He needed to speak. But the voices above him wouldn't relent.

"...sequor."

"...my pleasure, my Lord. At your command."

"...don't want to waste it, Severus...don't kill him, Yaxley...we need him."

The words were welcome against the vicious assault. But all thoughts of the expected reprieve flew from Severus' mind as he began to feel heat on his skin. It was a scorching heat, and it was very close to his face. Severus began to scream.

He couldn't move...couldn't squelch the flames that were scorching him. He watched the fire, in helpless horror, as he was purposefully burned alive. And then, as he began to welcome the release that death would bring, he was no longer burning. Steam rose in a black sheet from his body.

Sirens broke against the silence of Privet Drive, and there were dozens of pops in the hazy perimeter around Severus' mind. The wail of the Muggle sirens was no louder than whispers to Severus. But he had to leave. The whispers were insistent. And still his lips would not move. He couldn't even feel his lips.

The rustle of robes had vanished. And Severus could only see fuzzy darkness above him, unbroken by the blurred faces that had been there only seconds ago. He was alone now. And even the black night was darker than it had been. Fading...Privet Drive was fading around him. He couldn't even see the towering flames anymore.

Gathering all the strength he possessed, Severus forced his mind to focus as it insisted on wandering toward darkness. Portus, he insisted. Over and over, he repeated the silent command until the darkness began to creep over the edges of his vision.