Summoned

Chapter 3: Crucio!

"Snape knew more curses when he arrived at school than half the kids in the seventh year, and he was part of a gang of Slytherins who nearly all turned out to be Death Eaters."

Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire

July 9, 1995, morning

It had been a quiet night, all in all. Minerva woke to the dawn light creeping through the curtains in her windows. She had been dreaming, but couldn't remember her dream. She wondered if Severus would ever waken from his.

She showered and dressed and made her way to the kitchen where several of the house elves were preparing food for the castle's few remaining residents. Orestes joined her there a few minutes later. He looked better, a little more color in his face, a little less darkness around the eyes.

"Grim day ahead of us, I'm afraid," he said, sipping tea and buttering a slice of toast.

She said nothing. What sort of response would be appropriate?

"You're really quite fond of him, aren't you?" he asked a moment later. "I mean - you really - like the bastard."

He sounded so surprised that she managed to smile. "Does it show?"

He chuckled and patted her hand. "I'm a Healer," he said. "I'm trained to look for such things." He finished his tea and poured himself another cup, then buttered more toast. "If you will indulge an old Healer's curiosity, Professor: why?"

She blinked, her cup of tea halfway to her lips, and stared at him. Why? It was a good question, she supposed. The infamous Severus Snape was on everyone's bad list. Except, of course, Dumbledore's. And a few of the more cunning, cruel Slytherin students, whom Severus seemed to favor. She knew that Severus made it a practice to instill fear in his students: he couldn't like them, he didn't want to, and so, instead, he was satisfied that they feared him.

It was probably the way his father had treated him, she assumed, and it was something he knew how to do.

But she remembered the young Snape, the boy who had worked so very hard in her class, the boy who dished out at least as much as he took, but who took a fair amount more than others.

"I suppose," she said, feeling quite sad, "because I've seen him smile." She wondered, as she recalled that rare moment, if it was something Lily Evans ever saw.

She sighed, and put her tea down and used her napkin to dab her eyes. She was still tired, she told herself. She was just tired.

"Ready, then, are we?"

She turned at the sound of Dumbledore's voice behind her and wondered if he'd overheard that last small confession. If so, his eyes did not give it away. Orestes looked up and frantically chewed the last of his toast.

"Good morning, Albus, yes, yes, quite, quite ready."

"Sleep well?" Albus asked, a note of irony in his voice, Minerva thought. But the Healer didn't seem to hear it.

"I slept fine, Albus." He stepped quite close to the Headmaster and peered into his eyes, holding the man's gaze for a long moment. "I'm sorry you - didn't? But - I understand. Not a pleasant journey ahead of us, is it?"

They climbed up to the hospital wing where they found Madam Pomfrey joining Hagrid at his breakfast, the curtains around Severus' bed pulled close.

"He's resting," Poppy whispered, and Hagrid, after raising a hand in greeting, went back to his breakfast of sausage and bacon and toast and eggs and oatmeal and...

Minerva looked away. That much food made her feel a bit queasy.

"Sleep through the night?" Orestes asked Hagrid, helping himself to a piece of bacon.

"More 'r' less. Didna say anythin' more, if tha's wha' ye want ter know."

"Spasms?"

"A few. Didna' open his eyes, though."

Orestes nodded. He licked the grease from his fingers and then turned to the nurse. "I'll be using a sound-proofing charm," he told her, "as well as the Solo Silencio. As I've said, noise itself is painful to him, so - if he begins to scream, the Silencio will help."

Minerva closed her eyes, just briefly, and took a deep breath.

"Ye'll be needin' some extra arms, then, Professor?" Hagrid asked, not yet informed of their plan.

"Thank you, Hagrid," Albus said, "but not this morning. We - very much appreciate your keeping watch last night."

"Uh huh." Hagrid looked at the small group with wary eyes. "Ye'r plannin' somethin' tha's goin' make Professor Snape scream, I - I think I'd like to hang around - in case he needs -"

Minerva moved forward and put her arm around him, helping him up from his small table. "That's very generous of you, Hagrid," she said. "But we'll need you later to help out when we're done. You need some rest, too." She was moving him toward the door, and he was looking back over his shoulder. Then he pulled away from her and walked back to the other men.

"Nope," he said, shaking his large head, "nope, I - I think I should be here. Ter help him. I should be here."

Hagrid sounded very protective! Minerva wasn't sure if the surprise on Albus' face was any greater than the surprise on her own.

"Hagrid, you'll be here for him after we're done," Albus said. "I promise, we'll come get you. But you need your strength."

It was, Minerva thought, only Dumbledore who could have gotten Hagrid to leave at that point. He was glancing past them to Severus' bed with great concern. His bushy eyebrows drew together, but he let Dumbledore lead him to the door.

And close it behind him.

Orestes, who had watched the exchange in silence, turned to Albus as he came back. "I thought the other teachers weren't well disposed to your Professor Snape," he commented wryly.

"I think Hagrid's soft heart has been touched by Severus' immediate plight. I doubt there's any danger of them becoming friends."

Minerva was willing to bet he was right: Severus wasn't a person who would tolerate a friend.

Silent and tight-lipped, Albus and Orestes followed Poppy to the bed and Orestes rolled aside the three curtains.

Severus had been bathed and dressed in a pair of hospital-issue pajamas, and his hair had been washed. It was still damp and the scent of whatever herbs Madam Pomfrey had used in the bathing filled the air with a sweet freshness. Several of the bandages were gone, now; there were still some ugly bruises on his arms, but his fingers were whole and beneath the thin pajama material she could see that most of the wounds that had covered his chest were gone. There was still a thick bandage around his leg, where the snakebite was still oozing blood and puss, and another, matching bandage around his left arm, right over the Dark mark.

"Another bite?" Minerva whispered. Poppy nodded. The second wound was as bloody as the one on his leg.

"Any progress finding an antidote for the venom?" Albus asked Poppy. She grinned.

"Actually, I used a bezoar. It seems to have done the trick. The wounds are actually much better."

"At least his body isn't in such pain," Minerva whispered.

Orestes incanted a muting charm around the room, though they were alone in the wing: there was no one they needed to protect their work from. There was no one they needed to protect Severus' privacy from, either.

"I've set a lock on the door," Poppy said. "What do you want me to do, Orestes?"

The old Healer had his wand out, and turned to Albus, waiting. Reluctantly, Dumbledore pulled out his wand as well.

"Stand by, mostly," he answered the nurse, gesturing for Dumbledore to take a seat in the wooden chair next to the bed. "Professor McGonagall, if you would like to make yourself comfortable," he continued, gesturing her to the side of the bed. She sat there, feeling a knot tighten in her stomach. She felt horribly as if she were taking part in some form of grisly inquisition.

"Severus," Orestes called quietly. There was no response. "Severus Snape, can you hear me?" Again, there was no response. Severus' eyes were shut in what seemed to be sleep, his breathing was slow and measured, and he seemed quite at peace.

"Severus, in case you can hear me, I'm going to tell you what we are going to do. We know you've been trying to tell us what happened. You know we must find out. And we know that - that the Dark Lord has put a spell on you to keep you from telling us.

"Albus is here, Severus. We're going to try to penetrate your mind and find the answers." He said the last part very fast, as if the words caused him pain. "I'll be holding onto him, to augment his powers a bit. And Minerva is here, Severus. She's going to try to anchor you. Alright?"

He waited for a few seconds, and when there was no response, he whispered, "Solo Silencio." Then he turned to Dumbledore and nodded and held out his hand. Albus took it with his left hand, his wand pointed at the unconscious man.

"Severus," Albus whispered, "I'm so very sorry. - Legilimens!"

Silence. Darkness. Blissful ease.

Until he thought about it. About what?.

The swirl and eddy of the fractured mind, the gullies and wastelands, the torrential downpours of pain and grief, the horror...

Horror! Fear! Pain!

He should know who he was. Where he was. He didn't.

He couldn't talk. He couldn't move. He was trapped in the second, eternal second, one untimeable second that would not let him think or know...

He could feel. The fire. His arm burned with fire, his unforgivable fire, his unimaginable deeds. He had answered the fire, the evil inside him...

"My Lord, I come to do your bidding."

He screamed. The fire consumed his mind, his thoughts burned to ash, scattered. He choked on them, choked and heaved as memories flowed up from their depths and captured him...

Mom - no, please don't! No, stop her! Don't let her! Get her wand, take the wand! Hurry, hurry! Get the wand...

He was screaming, he was crawling away from her, he was trying to hide, but the pain wouldn't stop.

He saw it all. He tore it apart, and then went deeper, looking for more...

* * *

Dumbledore cried out and broke the spell. His wand fell from his shaking hand and he leaned forward and shut his eyes. Orestes had released his hand and had fixed Severus with a horrified, unblinking stare.

"Merlin's beard," he muttered. His hand a bit shaky, he raised his wand and lifted the Silencio. Both the older men looked terribly shaken, Minerva thought, but her attention was on the man who lay on the bed.

Severus' eyes were open once more. He was gasping for breath as if he were drowning. His gaze was dark and unfixed: he stared at the ceiling, as if the only thing he could see were the pictures in his head.

"Severus," she whispered. She did not touch him. She glanced at the other two, both of whom were still reacting strongly to whatever they had seen or felt. "Severus, Dumbledore has broken the spell. He's gone, Severus. Can you hear me? Can you tell me anything?"

He moved his lips with difficulty, and for several seconds struggled against the spell, trying to force out some word, some thought... His chest heaved as if he were exerting a great deal of physical effort, and then, finally, through gritted teeth, he hissed the single word, "Go."

"I'd love to," she whispered back.

By that time, Orestes seemed to have recovered, but Dumbledore was holding his face in his hands, his elbows on his knees. If she hadn't known better, she might have thought he was sobbing.

"Severus," Orestes whispered, taking just a quick look at Albus, "we need to go back in. I'm sorry. We need to see what happened."

Minerva reached across the bed and put her hand on his arm. "Can't it wait a bit? Surely, you can see that -"

"What I see - what I saw," he amended, "was not helpful. We are following the Dark Lord's path of destruction, I'm afraid. But we cannot stop just - just because it's unpleasant."

"Albus?" she pleaded.

Slowly, the man lifted his head. His eyes were dry. Of course they were. But they were red around the rims. He looked at her with such terrible pain evident in his wrinkled features that she felt her breath catch.

"I - had not - imagined," he said softly, his voice gruff. He cleared his throat and shut his eyes for a few more seconds.

"What -" she started, but he raised a weary hand and shook his head. Then he looked to Orestes. "Again?" he asked. Orestes nodded and once more clasped Albus' hand.

For several seconds, Albus just stared at Severus, watching his Potions master struggling to say something more, struggling to prevent their impending torment of him. Then, with a long, very deep breath, his eyes now meeting Severus', he extended his wand once more. "Legilimens!"

...She was screaming at his father. He was in the corner; he wanted to go back to his crib, but she wasn't paying attention to him. His pants were wet; that was why she was angry.

"You try spending all night with the brat and see how interested in sex you are then, you son of a bitch!"

"You - never - call - me that!"

"You lazy, useless Muggle!"

"Witch!" He took a swing at her, hit her face. She was bleeding.

"Fine! You want the bastard, you take care of him!" She grabbed him by one arm and shoved him at his father, but the man knocked him away, out of her hands. He went sprawling backward on the floor. He cried quietly, huddled in the corner. He was cold. He was hungry. He was wet...

"... if you think I'm going to take care of your half-breed..." His mother opened the window. It was so cold outside...

"I'll do it, Tobias, I swear I will! I'll throw him out this window right now if you don't back off!"

And once more he was in her arms... he screeched. She dangled him outside the open window... his sock fell off and he saw it go down and down and down... it was black outside. It was cold...

His father yanked his arm and he was back on the floor of the nursery. His arm had gone "pop" when his father grabbed him, and now he screamed with pain. His arm looked funny. It wasn't where it should be. It hurt...

"Great! Look what you made me do! Now you'll have to wave your magic wand and fix the beast, won't you? Won't you!"

He screamed and screamed, but they never heard him...

... The Dark Lord laughed... He went to find more...

* * *

It was Orestes who broke first this time, Minerva saw. He dropped Albus' hand as if it had suddenly caught fire, and with a strangled cry he shot from the seat and stormed from the room. Minerva sat, appalled, and watched Dumbledore sink forward, his face close to his knees.

And Severus was screaming... Orestes had forgotten to replace the Silencio...

She gathered her composure and while Poppy tended to Severus, placing LimberLight-impregnated cloths on his head and arms, Minerva got up and went to Albus. She sat in Orestes' abandoned seat and put her arm around the old wizard's shoulders.

They shuddered. And this time, she could tell he was weeping. What on earth had they seen?

No, she reminded herself, not really seen... felt. Experienced. Something that was all of those...

"Albus," she whispered. She watched Poppy doing her best to still the horrible cries coming from Severus' mouth, and then she felt Albus heave a long, shaking breath, and he sat up.

"It is - enough for now," he said, sounding defeated. Angry. He got up without looking at her and left the room in much the same fashion Orestes had.

She expected that whatever information they had gathered they would be sorting through between themselves for a while. Whether they had found what they needed or not, she wouldn't guess. But her reason for being here was still here.

She waited for nearly a quarter hour for the screaming to end. Orestes had not returned and she and Poppy discovered that, try though they might, neither of them could manage the Solo Silencio. She wanted to touch him, very badly, every maternal instinct she'd ever harbored willing her to grab the man and hold him tight, to give him the touch of a human hand, to brush the hair from his face...

Instead, she and Poppy simply sat back and watched, waited for the sound to die, the muscles to relax, the eyes to close.

After a time, Poppy left. It seemed to be getting on about lunch, Minerva thought. Alone with Severus, she made a choice.

Sometime later, when Orestes returned, he saw Severus lying silently and still on the hospital bed, a cat curled up by his side.

* * *

"If there is one thing I cannot abide," Dumbledore said, "it is adults who torture children."

Despite the fact that it was a pleasant, sunny day, Dumbledore had lit the fire in his fireplace against a deep, internal chilling. Around him, Orestes, Minerva and Poppy each looked every bit as worn as he felt. He met Minerva's questioning eyes as he said this, and let her know that she would have to draw her own conclusions about what they had found in Severus' mind so far. He would give out no further details, and neither, of course, would Orestes. Madam Pomfrey seemed least worn of them all, and she merely nodded and avoided everyone's eyes when Dumbledore made that announcement.

"Voldemort seems to have - delighted himself - in searching through every one of Severus' memories. From his earliest on, I would say."

"And - you need to go through them all?" Minerva asked him. Looking at her carefully, he thought his saw some orange cat hairs on her shimmering, emerald colored cape. He wondered when she'd assumed her animal form, and then, almost as he wondered, he knew the answer and smiled to himself.

"Unfortunately, it - appears so." Haunting images of the venomous household in which Severus grew up were writhing within him like snakes. Years ago, when Severus had been so very much younger, Albus had learned accidentally of that abuse, but he had never fully comprehended the realities Severus had faced at home. Knowledge based on facts was nothing compared with the knowledge gained by searching through a person's mind.

If Severus had, in his youth, been strong enough to hide these details when the Headmaster had exercised him in Occlumency so long ago, Dumbledore could only imagine how much strength it had taken for Voldemort to rip them open and expose them now, given how much stronger Severus' abilities in Occlumency were now.

He was, finally, convinced that Orestes might be right: this cold-blooded savaging of Severus' mind might leave the Potions master permanently incapacitated. Aside from the spell that worked to keep him from talking, the horrid rape of his mind alone was almost too much for Dumbledore to bear.

And yet, they still had no idea what Voldemort had wanted. Or what he had gotten.

"Shall we try again tomorrow?" Poppy asked. She had refused tea, but had taken a biscuit.

Orestes, pale and still quite shaken, shook his head. "In an hour or so, I'm afraid. Albus and I have discussed it, and - as long as we have any strength left, we feel we must continue."

Minerva's lips pulled tightly together and her eyes flashed with anger. "As long as you have strength? What about him? You're putting him through You-Know-Who's torture all over again! Doesn't that matter to you? Shouldn't you give him some time..."

"I agree," said Poppy, glancing at Dumbledore. "He's weak, he's -"

"I am aware," Albus said, his words slow and forceful, "of Severus' state. But we must - keep looking. Voldemort trusted Severus when he went back the first time. Why did he do this to a servant who always used to bring him news of the Order, news of the resistance against him? Something is very wrong here, and we must find out what that is. Before Voldemort has a chance to get to Harry."

"Or anyone else," Orestes added. He sighed. "Please, don't think us monsters, we aren't. This is a horrible, painful process. But we all know what will happen if He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named gets the upper hand."

"Who's to say he doesn't already have it?" Minerva asked. She was still giving Dumbledore the strict, disapproving glare that so often intimidated her students.

"No one," Albus said. "Which is why we must - continue."

* * * July 9, 1995, afternoon

Hagrid felt almost as unhappy when they returned to relieve him as he had when he'd learned that his beloved Buckbeak, the hippogriff, had been sentenced to death. And now, as then, he realized there was probably nothing he could do to stop them.

But he would try, nonetheless.

"Professor," he said, moving in front of McGonagall as she strode back into the hospital wing with the others, cutting her off from her advance on the patient, "can't ye stop this for a wee bit longer? He's jus' no' settled back down again."

It had been a terrible three hours. Not that the time had been too long, no, nothing like that. In fact, he'd have been happy enough if they'd asked him to just stay through until the night; he had his picture books and Fang (Poppy had surrendered on that issue) and Poppy had conjured up his big, comfy chair from his hut, and he was quite comfortable there, just humming quietly to himself and lazily patting Fang's head.

"Jes' readin' about the care of the whipplesnipe, Professor," he'd said, trying to get the man to react, even a bit, to what was happening around him. "It's a type o' bird I'd been wantin' fer a long time, ye know. Expensive they are, tha's fer sure."

He never got noticed. And what had been really terrible was watching Professor Snape in so much pain. Poppy had said the silencing charm was necessary, and that Orestes had put it in place as much for the patient's sake as for those who had to watch him. But Hagrid found it twice as disturbing to watch someone writhe and scream in utter silence. It was - unnatural.

And then when they had told him, again, not to touch the man unless it seemed he was going to hurt himself... well, that had gone against his every instinct. And so, for a little while, though he was sure as Muggle-wart he'd never tell anyone, he'd cradled the man in his arms, sitting in his own chair, and humming until the man's limp body and closed eyes told him he'd returned to some kind of peace.

He was just sure that, no matter how well-meaning Dumbledore and Orestes and Professor McGonagall were, they just weren't going about healing the man in the right way.

Every bit of his Magical Creature-curing instincts told him so.

"I'm sorry, Hagrid, but - listen, go to the kitchen and get some lunch. And ask the house elves, please, to set some food aside for us for later." She gave him a dismissive, but not unkind, pat on his back.

It wasn't going to work.

Hagrid stepped to the side as she tried to pass, and this time Orestes turned to watch. "Please, Professor, he jus' needs some sleep right now."

"I know, Hagrid." She paused and gave him an intense look. He felt concerned: what was she thinking? "I'll come get you as soon as we've finished."

He glowered, then felt Albus Dumbledore's eyes on him, and, reluctantly, he turned away.

"Alright then," he heard the old Healer say, "places."

* * *

...This was the fourth time this summer that Tobias had broken his nose. He was counting, now. It was the second time Severus had gotten this far without crying. He wasn't going to cry, he'd sworn that to himself.

"You bastard!" Tobias yelled. "Sick, weak, worm of a brat!" With each word, the man landed another kick in Severus' side or stomach, or on his legs. He curled up in a defensive ball, but refused to respond. "What are they teaching you at that school for evil? How to bewitch your parents?" He landed a sharp, hard kick right between Severus' legs and the boy howled...

His mother opened the door, hours later. Her right eye was swollen almost shut. Tobias had started with her, then worked his way down. Now she was going to finish what he hadn't..."Get my wand!"

He struggled to stand and couldn't. His leg wouldn't support his weight. He tried again, and she kicked him back down.

"Freak!" she screamed at him. "Half-blood freak! I don't care if you have to crawl! Just get my wand!"

He struggled up and crept carefully from the room, holding onto furniture and then the wall to keep from falling back. He would crawl for no one! No one!

She was going to fix his nose. At least, heal the break; she never bothered with the appearance, and he was always teased at school for the way it looked. It would look even worse when he returned to school this term.

And then she was going to use her wand to punish him for angering Tobias.

But he was learning. He was learning her spells, how to use the wand, how to move it, circles, straight lines, whip-like patterns through the air...

He was learning the words, too, and when he went back to Hogwarts, he would have a whole new arsenal of spells and charms to use against the boys who tormented him...

"Crucio!"

* * *

Dumbledore heard his own voice cry out through the air and he felt Poppy's arms around his shoulders. He caught himself, half-tipping from the chair, and pulled himself aright. His spectacles had slipped off his face and Orestes, next to him, had bent to retrieve them.

The silent screams had come again...

"Remove," Dumbledore said, needing a few more seconds to catch his breath, "remove - the Silencio, Orestes. Please."

"Albus, he's screaming..."

"I know! Remove it!"

He wasn't sure how he knew, but he suddenly knew something very important. Maybe it had come from the last ugly foray into the dark forest of Severus' memories, but it was quite clear to him: at this moment, right now, it was important that Severus' cries not go unheard. Or ignored.

And despite Orestes' instructions, once the Silencio had been lifted, Dumbledore broke through his own shaky reaction and grabbed Severus' hand tightly, then leaned down and whispered, "We're here, Severus. We can hear you. You are not alone."

More swiftly than before, Severus' body stopped its ferocious twisting and jerking. The screams abated. His body lost all rigidity, and he slumped on the bed, soaked with sweat, panting, his lips white, his face almost as grey as death.

And then his eyes opened again.

This time, they tried to focus. They roamed around the ceiling for a few seconds, then slowly his gaze lowered until he saw Albus, still clutching his hand. His mouth moved. There was horror in his eyes. Anger. Hatred. Fury.

"Stop," he said, his teeth clenched tightly. "Told - nothing."

Minerva gasped, and Orestes sat back in his chair, looking dumbfounded.

"Severus," Albus whispered, stroking the cold fingers in his grasp, "why did Voldemort do this?"

Snape winced at the name and Dumbledore decided to avoid it in the future. But try as he might, Severus could not force out another word. He struggled for some minutes, until, once more, the rigidity in his limbs returned and he began to heave himself around in wicked, violent spasms.

"That's enough," Dumbledore said. "Enough for now."

Poppy made several unhappy tsking sounds, and began the routine of wringing out fresh cloths of LimberLight and placing them on his head and chest.

"Madam Pomfrey," Dumbledore said, stopping her as she placed the third cloth in place around Severus' right arm, "please." He took the cloth and put it, and then the others, back on the cabinet. The spasms continued for a few more minutes, and he was aware that three sets of eyes were glaring angrily at him.

But at the end, when Severus' body finally calmed, his eyes opened again, and this time there was a small light within them. A spark of sanity, of recognition, that they hadn't seen before.

"Please," Dumbledore said, addressing the others, "if you would leave. I need to speak with Severus alone."

"Albus, it's not -"

"Please, Orestes, I know what I'm doing."

Madam Pomfrey looked reluctant. Orestes was displeased, and Minerva seemed guarded and suspicious. "Albus," she said, "perhaps I could stay..."

Albus managed a thin smile and shook his head. Without further argument, they left. Albus stood and pulled the three curtains back around them, then sat back in the chair and looked directly into Severus' eyes. "Does he know, Severus?" he whispered. "Does Vol- does he know that you are our spy?"

Snape's eyes held steady as the Headmaster tried to will the answer from his colleague. They held, and Dumbledore waited patiently, as the man struggled to speak.

"No."

The word came as almost a breath.

"You are sure?"

What Albus decided was probably as close to a nod as he could make came as response. He reached out then, took hold of the left pajama sleeve, and pulled it back to expose the tattoo. It was dark, but not swollen, not pulsating as it did when the Death Eaters were actually being summoned.

"He suspected you?" Albus whispered.

Severus stared at him for several seconds. Then, once more breathing heavily with the effort, he hissed, "Yes. - Angry."

Albus shut his eyes. This was bad, very bad. "Why?"

He couldn't get another answer. Severus was breathing hard, as if he'd run a long distance, and his eyes closed.

"You understand I must - I must find out for myself. I have to see myself that - that you told him nothing."

His eyes opened and fury contorted Severus' features, and Dumbledore understood it. It was a terrible thing to do. But Dumbledore could not yet trust the fractured fragments of Severus' memories. It was quite possible that, as he continued to dig through the rubble, Albus would find that Voldemort had, in fact, pulled some precious, vital piece of information from his apparent servant.

Dumbledore had to know for sure.

* * *

"I have come at your bidding, my Lord. I must report that Barty Crouch has been unmasked at Hogwarts..."

Voldemort swiped his skeletal hand across Snape's face and knocked off the mask. His fingers lifted Snape's chin, forcing his eyes to meet the Dark Lord's, forcing his neck back, exposing his throat.

"I lost the boy," Voldemort hissed. "He was almost mine... and I lost him!" He traced his fingernail along the length of Severus' throat.

He almost choked. "My Lord knows that he has left Hogwarts. He is back in London."

"Why didn't you do more, Severus? Why did you not seek me out? Why did I have to summon you to find out what services you performed for me?"

"My Lord must remember that I remain at Hogwarts as a spy. I cannot easily leave when I'm being watched."

Voldemort's red eyes burned into him. His arm throbbed. The snake slithered across the back of his legs as he knelt in the cemetery dirt. He heard the snake's tongue flickering in and out.

"You could not come earlier, Severus, I know that. But you have not sought to see me at all. Why is that, Severus? Has your loyalty changed? I hear rumors, nasty rumors, that you are, in fact, Dumbledore's man."

"My Lord knows that I am not, and never could be, loyal to that clown!"

"Let me see, Severus. Let me see..."

The snake hissed and he felt one fang penetrate his leg. He gasped; poison entered his blood, pulsed through the back of his leg, up to his back, his chest, arms... He felt the fire consume him, and then the fire penetrated his mind and Voldemort's eyes were in his thoughts, his memories...

He fell forward on the ground, vomiting, retching, the pain so intense that he could not breathe. He felt himself choking, felt the glowing red eyes search his soul, his mind, his body...

He bit his tongue until it bled, clawed at the ground to escape, grabbed thorns and felt them pierce his hands, fingers...

He blocked the advance of the Dark Lord, hid the memories he had to hide, and offered up, instead, every horrible moment he had ever lived. Every minute of every day that he had wanted to forget, he let Voldemort find. Every evil he had done, every evil done to him.

Everything but what he needed to protect Lily's son.

Eventually, the Dark Lord seemed satisfied and Snape thought he was done.

He was not.