Crushed Velvet

Crushed Velvet

In the cold, damp, eerily-lit store dungeon beneath the abandoned castle, Severus was shoved carelessly into a dark corner. His shoulder hit the wall hard, sending a sharp pain though his arm and shoulder blade. The boy winced, but his father couldn't see the expression in the minimal lighting.

"Is that him, Raeneus?" came a voice from the opposite side of the room.

There was something about the voice that made Severus want to shiver. Or maybe it was just that he knew it was the Dark Lord who was speaking to his father from the shadows, not twenty feet away.

He drew his knees protectively up to his chest, only then realizing that he'd slid down the wall to the floor.

Raeneus Snape nodded slowly.

"Yes, my lord. This is my son, Severus."

The former Tom Riddle took several calculated steps out of the darkness, towards them.

He looked from Raeneus to the small fragil-looking teenage boy huddled in the corner, letting his gaze roam appraisingly over him. Assessing his worth. Then he turned his expressionless gaze back to the senior Snape.

"And you say he refuses to join us?"

Raeneus nodded once more and shot a hateful glower toward Severus.

"Yes, my lord. I'm afraid my attempts to reason with him have failed, although I have mentioned on several occasions how his skill with potions could be beneficial to us."

Severus glared up through heavy, dark lashes at the two men he despised most in the world, including Potter and Black. Not even they could hold a torch to this pair, bargaining for his future as though he weren't there at all. As though he were simply a commodity that was easily acquired if you knew where to look.

The Dark Lord considered this for a moment.

"Well then, we'll just have to resort to more unpleasant methods of persuasion."

He drew back the sleeve of his robes, rolling it back and, as he did so, slowly revealing the fierce-looking black outline forever depicted on his forearm. The Dark Mark.

Keeping his gaze on Severus the entire time, he drew his long, think index finger over the mark and it began to glow a dangerous red colour.

Within minutes, ten robed men had apparated into the cold room, cloaked in black and all with bowed heads.

"Good evening, my most faithful servants," greeted Riddle.

"It is our pleasure to serve you, master," the Death Eaters chorused automatically. If any of them had been looking, they would have noticed the utterly disgusted expression on Severus's face.

"McNair," Riddle said sharply. One of the robed figures stepped forward. "Fetch the woman."

"Yes, my lord."

The Death Eater moved across the room and through a heavy wooden door, returning a moment later with a frightened looking woman with light brown hair and terrified violet eyes. She was bound with a bodybind hex and gagged in a similar manner.

McNair tossed the woman to the floor at the Dark Lord's feet and Severus's gaze flickered to the horrified look on his mother's face.

Suppressing the cry of fear and rage he was sure would tear from his chest should he open his mouth, Severus looked at his father. Raeneus's jaw tensed at the sight of his wife, but he showed no other reaction.

"You knew it would come to this," Riddle said, breaking the heavy silence that had fallen over them.

"Yes, my lord," Raeneus responded hesitantly.

"Surely you know what is to come."

The senior Snape looked down at his wife, then to his son.

Severus felt tears prick his eyes as he silently begged his father not to let them hurt her. Not his mother. Not the only person who had ever loved him. Who ever would ...

"Yes, my lord," Raeneous repeated after what seemed like an eternity.

Severus's shoulders sagged and he sobbed out loud as he heard his mother's muffled cry of fearful protest.

Trying to stop them was useless, he knew. He was unarmed and grossly outnumbered, not to mention physically inferior. There was nothing he could do but watch and cry brokenly in the corner as the Death Eaters and Riddle took turns savagely raping and beating Laurel Snape.

He had no idea how long they were at it, how long he sobbed on the floor, how long his mother's cries pierced his sanity and slashed at his soul, until her screams turned to hoarse rasps of pain and suffering.

He had squeezed his eyes shut and so the only indication of when they had ceased the abuse was when his mother's scratchy cries turned to pitiful whimpers of agony.

He opened his eyes, gritty with tears.

Severus was roughly yanked to his feet and dragged across the room by the Dark Lord, then pushed to his hands and knees next to his mother's bloody, bruised and broken body.

Miraculously, he started crying again, though he'd thought he'd run out of tears. He tenderly touched her pale cheek, streaked with blood.

"Severus, please," Laurel whispered painfully.

"Anything, Mother," he replied unevenly.

"Kill me." His gasp of shock was broken and unsure and a few of his tears spattered softly onto her cheek.

"You can end her suffering, Severus," the Dark Lord whispered into his ear. "Join us, and I allow you to take away her pain."

The sobbing boy looked down at his mother, and his mind was made up. He reached over and wrapped his hand around the handle of Voldemort's wand.

"Alright. You win."

He pointed the wand at his mother.

"Avada Kedavra."