Summoned

Chapter 14: Servitude

"Father's always associated with the top people in the Ministry."

"And yet you ran from my Mark... last summer? Yes, I know all about that, Lucius."

Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire

July 21, 1995

For the next four days, nothing particular happened. Hoping to make a few extra points, Severus prepared two more potions for the Dark Lord in the Shrieking Shack without attracting anyone's attention. He'd cleaned and sanitized the downstairs living room and the kitchen, had repaired holes in the walls and the windows, bewitching the boards on the outside to let in the sun on the inside, and had installed a second complete set of his potion-making instruments: it wouldn't do for them to disappear from his chambers at Hogwarts. Not only would it interfere with his work for the school, it would invite unwanted questions.

Lupin, Tonks, Shacklebolt and even Arthur Weasley continued working on the protections around Hogwarts. A second trial was set to take place Wednesday: it was also the day Severus was to return to the Dark Lord.

He had not mentioned this to anyone yet. He had avoided Dumbledore completely after the meeting of the Order, and the Headmaster had made no further attempt to talk with him. He dreaded telling Dumbledore he was leaving almost as much as he dreaded having to face the Dark Lord again so soon.

Orestes made several valiant offers to assist him with his Occlumency, but the combination of his last encounter with Voldemort and his last disastrous exercises with Dumbledore made him turn down the offers. He expected Dumbledore to come and either order him to continue or, perhaps, offer to continue the lessons himself. He did neither.

It did surprise him that Minerva never came to see him: he might have welcomed her company.

So Severus remained in his dungeons and left them only to go to the Shack to prepare his offerings for the Dark Lord. He saw no one, spoke to no one. His isolation was complete, once Orestes gave up, and that was just fine.

In the hours he spent without something to occupy his time otherwise, he practiced on his own the mental exercises he needed to improve: he worked especially at blocking and hiding the pain so many of the ripped memories in his mind created.

And he worked very hard at clearing himself of all anger and other strong emotions: the Dark Lord fed on those, and he couldn't afford for him to look very closely at his thoughts. After all, he was, as yet, unaware that the Memory Charm had been broken through. Severus didn't want to contemplate what his reaction would be when he finally discovered that.

It had been difficult enough, the last time, to convince the Dark Lord that he had not irreparably destroyed his chances of effectively spying on Dumbledore. The rage that had coursed through him, the memory of their terrible argument, had done nothing to convince his "master" that the Headmaster of Hogwarts would continue to trust him.

"I would hate for you to lose your position as such a - valuable servant," the Dark Lord had said. And Severus had reassured him that Dumbledore was still pliable and would be easily mollified. Severus would, in other words, continue to be an effective spy.

The morning of the tests on Hogwarts' defenses, he was finally interrupted. Dumbledore came down to the dungeons about ten and knocked. Given that he'd had several blissfully human-free days already, Severus decided he would accept the encounter.

"Well, no poisons brewing, I see," Dumbledore greeted him, closing the door behind himself and glancing at the empty cauldrons. "No need for them right now, or have you decided to brew them elsewhere?"

If Dumbledore had intended a pleasant conversation, there was no sign of it either from his opening remarks of from his tone of voice. Severus felt his guard go up, but he kept his anger in check.

"I've actually finished what I needed to do," he answered curtly. "Surely, you weren't surprised by my answers at the meeting."

Dumbledore's blue eyes glimmered, but not with humor. "No, I wasn't. But Sirius did raise a good point. About the students."

"And I have taken greater precautions as a result. You can let the Order know that their precious bundles will not be exposed to any - Dark magic on my part." He turned away and went back to his desk, where he'd been writing his outline for the following year's third-year lessons. He made a note to himself about getting them new cauldrons: he'd discuss it with Dumbledore later.

"I'd like you to be part of the testing group this afternoon," Dumbledore launched, standing in front of the desk. "If the spells can withstand your efforts, I'll know they're secure."

He looked up and ignored the understated compliment. "Unfortunately, I have an unavoidable assignation elsewhere."

Dumbledore's expression turned angry. "And when were you planning to tell me this? Or did you just find out?" he asked, glancing meaningfully at Severus' left arm.

He moved his arm off the table. "I had my instructions the last time I met with him."

Dumbledore sighed. "I know this is a new routine, Severus, but I'd like to be informed as soon as you know you're to report back to Voldemort. - What is it?"

Severus had winced at the name and he rubbed his arm without really thinking about it. He looked away. "The Dark Lord does not like his name used: he wants us afraid of it. So he's put a Taboo on it. His followers find it - uncomfortable - to hear it spoken."

Dumbledore considered that for a moment. "I'll try to be careful of that around you. - But you know, I believe it's important to call things by their proper names."

"Oh, I disagree!" It was out before he realized what he had said, but Dumbledore leapt on it.

"Really? And when do you think I don't use the proper names for things, Severus?"

He met the Headmaster's intense look and refused to blink, even though he knew Dumbledore was trying to invade his thoughts. "The entire time I was growing up."

Dumbledore's eyes tightened. "Do you really want to revisit that right now?" he asked, his voice dangerously quiet.

Severus took a long breath, and realized that what he didn't want was to meet the Dark Lord with this still unresolved between him and Dumbledore. If he didn't return...

"Yes, I do." His mouth had suddenly become quite dry. "There were things - I didn't say."

"I think you said quite enough."

"No. I -" He sighed.

Dumbledore watched him for another second, then pulled one of the extra chairs up and sat in it. "Your wand," he ordered, his hand outstretched. "I don't want a repeat of the other night."

Embarrassed as much by the request as by the memory of his horrible outburst, Severus pulled his wand from the sleeve pocket where he carried it, and tossed it to Dumbledore. The Headmaster caught it and slipped it into his own robes.

"I didn't need it the other night," he snapped. Dumbledore ignored the comment.

"So," Dumbledore began. "According to you, I spent six years lying to you about - you. You joined Vol- Tom Riddle because I believed in you. You wanted revenge for my kindness and so you offered to spy on me for Volde- Tom. Have I missed anything? I think you made your point effectively five nights ago. What else do you think you can say? I understand your motives, Severus. In a way, I'm sorry now that I do. But nothing you say is going to change that."

"But you still trust me? Even knowing that?"

Dumbledore nodded slowly and looked away. "Yes."

"Why?"

When he looked back, there was something deeply penetrating in his eyes, and Severus felt his head begin to pound, as if the Headmaster were actually trying to attack his mind.

"Because you have only ever truly begged one time in your life," he said. "And it was to me. To protect Lily. And I have enough confidence in your own sense of honor to know that when you swore you would do anything in return, you meant it. - Your intermittent desires to end your own life not withstanding."

"I begged the Dark Lord to save her," he corrected him. "I begged him -"

He hadn't just begged. He had groveled, had pleaded, had promised and sworn everything to the Dark Lord in exchange for Lily's life...

"No," Dumbledore said softly, and Severus turned a sharp eye on him, not sure if he'd actually just taken a look at those humiliating, desperately useless memories. "You tried to bargain with Voldemort," he said. "You didn't try to bargain with me. You surrendered. You accepted my terms of service, despite what you may have felt for me particularly.

"I've thought about what you said the other night, and you were right: you never sold your soul to Riddle. You sold it to me. Like it or not. You are mine. And I know that. And I know that as far as you're concerned, there's no turning from that.

"I own you, Severus. I have since you returned. - I have no difficulty trusting you."

He waited a few seconds, but Severus could think of nothing to say. Dumbledore rose, pulled Severus' wand out and placed it back on the table. He started to leave.

"Why?"

Dumbledore stopped and looked back.

"Why did you - I was so much like him..." It still hurt, after all these years. It hurt to realize that his fate had been sealed the moment of his birth. That all the things he shared with the Dark Lord had led him inexorably into his service, into committing vile acts and ripping his own soul into pieces. It hurt to remember Dumbledore's attempts to convince him that he was not like Tom Riddle.

"Do you know," Dumbledore said, the anger gone from his eyes now, "when I first met Tom Riddle, he had no compassion for anyone. He had already lost the ability to weep. If he'd ever had it at all. - You haven't. - Do let me know when you return, won't you?"

* * *

He didn't know where he was when he Apparated, but he knew the Dark Lord was nearby. The potions - he wouldn't think of them as poisons - were floating alongside him in a small trunk he used to transport them. His wand was out, at the ready. He could sense danger, something that wasn't quite right.

"My Lord," he called after a moment. He set the trunk down next to him. He turned around, a full circle, looking for something to tell him where he was.

It looked like the Shrieking Shack. And then he knew, and at the same moment he heard the snake slithering past him. He was in the Riddle House, and Nagini was tasting the air with her tongue, perhaps reporting his presence to her master.

"Severus!" Out of nowhere, the Dark Lord Apparated right in front of him, startling him despite his being on guard.

"My Lord," he said, dropping instantly to his knees. "I bring you the potion you have ordered," he said, his head down. "And two others besides." Through the mask, his breath felt hot against his cheeks, and the darkened room of the abandoned house in which he found himself seemed suddenly to close in on him.

"Very good, Severus," the Dark Lord hissed. "Are you sure they are at full strength? You have not diluted them, have you? Your pity for the Potter boy still concerns me."

"My Lord, I give you all the service I have pledged. I remain always your faithful servant."

Voldemort lifted his chin with one hand, and removed the mask with the other. "Are you completely mine, Severus? Completely?"

"Yes, my Lord." His stomach began to churn unpleasantly. These questions were always a prelude to something awful.

"Take out the potions, Severus. Let me see them."

Without standing, Severus flicked his wand toward the lock on the trunk and it opened. He levitated the three jars and brought them to hover in front of him: and he knew what would come next.

"I don't have a Muggle to test these on," the Dark Lord hissed. Behind him, he heard Nagini trying to imitate the sounds her master made. "How shall I know that you have prepared them properly?"

"Would my Lord - like me to demonstrate - their effectiveness?"

He had done this before, he reminded himself. He had had to do this numerous times before, often enough that he'd usually ended up carrying a bezoar with him, just in case the Dark Lord was in the mood for this type of entertainment. Today, however, he had not thought ahead. He had not prepared himself for this.

"Would my faithful servant hesitate to do so?"

"No, my Lord." He took a steadying breath and reached for one of the jars, the one containing the most dramatic potion, knowing what the Dark Lord would want. It was a blood-letting poison. Unpleasant, but not deadly if he were only required to test it. He uncorked the jar and the floral scent of the deceptively vicious drug assailed his nostrils. Holding his breath, he tilted the jar to his lips and swallowed what would have amounted to about half a fatal dose.

He corked the jar and put it down on the floor, far enough away that he wouldn't knock it over in the next few minutes.

It took mere seconds for the liquid to begin coiling through his intestines. He felt his stomach burn, his throat began to close and then he bent over and began to vomit dark clots of blood as the poison scoured through him. Blood vessels in his stomach and intestines began to burst: dark, painful bruises swelled his arms and legs. Blood began to ooze from his nose and ears as he kept vomiting, and his head began to throb as his brain was attacked as well and more bruising took place beneath his skull.

"Let me see your arms, Severus." the Dark Lord's voice was silky and low. Almost blind from the pain in his head, Severus struggled against the spasms that brought the blood out of his stomach and onto the floor, and unbuttoned and rolled up his sleeves. His arms were covered in purple bruises, his wrists swollen, his fingers puffy. The Mark on his left forearm was almost impossible to see.

"And your legs."

He finally stopped vomiting and he struggled to stand up. He had lost a fair amount of blood and he was too dizzy to manage standing.

"My Lord," he gasped. He tried to undo his pants to show the bruising on his legs, but his fingers were too swollen, he was shaking, he couldn't manage it.

"Evanesco!" Voldemort pointed his wand and Severus found himself quite naked. He shivered and tried again to stand, but couldn't. He was acutely aware of the Dark Lord's eyes slowly traveling the length of his body, burning his flesh as if they were giving off real heat.

"Lovely," the Dark Lord hissed, staring particularly at the deep, ugly bruising along Severus' legs. Without uttering another word, Voldemort flicked his wand once more and Severus was clothed again in his slacks and boots, but his shirt and socks were missing. His cloak, however, was lying to his right, as if waiting for him. He didn't dare reach for it without permission.

"And now," the Dark Lord said, "I think - this one." He pointed to the largest jar, the one with a dark blue potion in it. "What is this little gift you have for me?"

"An unusually strong variation of a Befuddlement Draught, my Lord."

"Let me see you test that one, Severus, my faithful servant."

"Yes, my Lord." With all the strength he could find, he took the jar. Opening it with his fingers swollen and purple was almost impossible, but he managed it at length. The potion had little taste, and what there was wasn't terribly unpleasant. But he knew that once he swallowed it, his mind would be vulnerable once more. He dreaded that more than he had the pain of the previous poison. He knew that one flicker of a memory that he needed to hide from Voldemort could mean his death, and not a pleasant one.

He swallowed a small dose, capped the jar and put it down. He had made it back to his knees, but he was kneeling in the blood he'd brought up a few minutes ago. Now, as the second potion slid through him, he began to feel light-headed and for a few moments the pain in his body eased. He shut his eyes...

"Well, Severus?"

He looked up and couldn't tell what he was seeing. A large serpent was coiled around the grotesque man in front of him, it's enormous body draped across the man's shoulders.

"Severus?"

"Sir?" He didn't think that was the right form of address, but he couldn't think what would be. The man began to move rapidly around the room - what room? - in something between a pace and a dance. He was flicking his wand up and down, back and forth, and as he did, images shot through his mind...

"Show me your thoughts, Severus. Open your mind to me!"

Open..? What did he mean? Who was he?

He was dangerous. He was very dangerous.

He had to escape. To get away. He tried to get up, but he couldn't. And then...

The eyes were boring into his mind, his thoughts, tearing him apart...

"How is my old friend, Dumbledore?" the man asked, and Severus saw the Headmaster leaving a room, leaving Severus...

"I own you, Severus. I have since you returned. - I have no difficulty trusting you."

"Good," the serpent-man whispered. He bent down and put his lips right next to Severus' ear. "Now, show me my faithful servant, Orestes..."

He crushed his eyes closed. Who? Faithful servant? What did he mean, who was...

And then the eyes scorched his mind and he saw...

An old, old man, squinting at him, sitting next to him. He was in a hospital bed.

"I know you were hoping this would be over but - well, until Dumbledore has his answers - and you could volunteer the information, you know? - I'm afraid the Legilimens treatment must continue."

"Yes," the serpent man whispered, stroking the long black hair that fell on either side of Severus' face with his long fingernails.

He was too tired to keep kneeling. He was going to sleep...

"Not yet, my adorable servant," the serpent man said. "Let me see the other memories. The hidden memories..."

Something began to bleed, and he couldn't tell what it was. He keeled over and curled into a ball, his knees seared with pain, his mind convulsing around the intruder's eyes, the glaring red orbs that flashed through...

Where was he now? He wasn't in the room. He was in a cemetery. Why? When did he get to the cemetery?

The white-haired man was there. He was smiling, a very ugly smile.

"Now, Severus, finally. Now you will know - who has always been in control. I've waited a very long time for this..."

He cried out and shut his eyes. He didn't want to see, didn't want to remember, to know... Hands, touching him, he couldn't move, he couldn't get away... His face, forced into the dirt...

"Oh, poor Severus, you didn't enjoy that, did you?"

He was naked, crawling along the ground behind the tombstone... cold, everything hurt, he was humiliated, broken...

And then the accursed Potter boy was in the cemetery, too, staring at him...

Where was that? When did that happen? It was a dream, just a bad dream...

"Come, my dear servant," the serpent spoke to him. He looked up and saw the snake's lips move like a human's lips. "Come to me now. Show me..."

He felt the snake's tongue caress his lips, his eyelids, he screamed, he couldn't move, who was it? Who was touching him? White hair... "Now you know, Severus."

Who was Severus? Who...?

* * *

There was almost no light coming through the window. He noticed that, and wondered why he had just noticed that.

He couldn't remember.

He looked around and found himself in a cold, decrepit room, wood slats on the ground digging into his legs. He was bare-chested, his shirt was missing. There was his cloak, over there, on the floor...

What had happened?

He had to go, he had to get home...

What home?

Hogwarts. Get back to Hogwarts...

He'd know what to do when he got back to Hogwarts. Yes, someone there who would explain to him what was happening...

He tried to sit up, but the moment he did he began to vomit. Blood was coming out, he was shaking too hard to sit up, he rolled on his side and soon his face was lying in the pool of foul smelling blood. He had trouble catching his breath, and he was so cold...

The potion! He remembered! The damned Blood-Letting Potion. That was what was wrong. He'd had to sample it for -

He forced himself to sit up and then stayed very still until the room stopped moving. He had to get out of here. The Dark Lord was gone. The house was empty. He had to get back to Hogwarts...

He couldn't stand. He reached for his cloak, but he was too far away. His fingers looked like purple tree stumps, his wrist was thick with bruising.

He sat there until the light was completely gone, and finally he crept toward his cloak. He grabbed it and dragged it toward him, and it slid through another puddle of bloody vomit. He pulled it around him and felt in the pocket and found his wand.

At least the Dark Lord had left that for him.

There was no sign, now, that Voldemort had ever been here, except for some faint footprints in the dust on the floor, and a long, slithering line where the snake had slid around. The three potions he'd brought were gone and so was his trunk. The room was empty except for him.

He had never tried Disapparating while sitting, but he knew he would either have to do that or wait for a very long time before he'd be able to stand.

He concentrated on Hogwarts, on the Shrieking Shack, and realized he couldn't turn around on his butt!

He swore under his breath and crawled toward the wall. He planted his palms on the cold plaster wall and hoisted himself to his feet. That was an improvement, but the movement dislodged something in his gut and he began to heave again.

It didn't last long. He wiped his mouth with his arm, felt what was probably encrusted blood beneath his nose and down the sides of his neck from his ears. He was only barely aware of how badly everything hurt. He had to get back, had to get out of here, had to leave...

He focused on his destination, set his entire mind to nothing but visualizing the castle, and turned on the spot...

* * *

There was only the northeast corner still to strengthen, and since Remus had set the charms and curses there, he volunteered to finish the process while the others went back inside. Dumbledore was planning another feast for everyone who'd helped test the barriers, and he didn't think he would be out here too long.

However, as the sun began to go down and he found himself still unable to set the final wards, he began to fear he'd miss out on all the food!

"Lupin. Help."

He turned, startled, and saw Snape materialize and then collapse almost at his feet.

"Severus! What in -" He stopped what he was doing and leaned down. The man was covered in slime, the odor of vomit wafted up at Lupin, and as he bent down he saw the Potions master's face. "Oh, God!" Even in the shadows of dusk, he could see that dark bruising and swelling mangled his normally unpleasant face into something out of a nightmare.

Severus shook his head. "No. Not - as bad as it looks," he muttered. "Please. Get me - to my rooms." He reached up and Remus gave him a hand. He pulled the man to his feet, but that lasted less than two seconds, and Severus was back on the ground, on his knees, bent double and retching.

"Merlin's beard! Hold on." Quickly, Lupin conjured a stretcher and levitated Snape onto it. The man gripped the sides of the stretcher to keep from falling off, but otherwise lay still as Remus sent it floating ahead of him up to the castle.

"My - chambers," Snape whispered. "Please, Lupin."

"You need to go to the hospital wing."

"No!" He let go of one side of the stretcher and grasped Remus' hand with cold, skeletal fingers. "I'm alright. I just need - some rest. Lupin, please."

He looked at Snape lying there, his face bruised as if someone had used him for a bludger. "Severus -"

The man's eyes, swollen and purple, bore into his with a look of pure desperation, and his hand gripped Lupin's hard enough to make him wince.

"Alright. Your chambers." He could get Dumbledore and Madam Pomfrey down there once Snape was settled.

He followed the stretcher closely, took it through the entrance hall, and then down to the dungeons. When he reached Severus' office, he lowered the stretcher to the ground and helped the man up.

Snape flicked his wand at the door and it opened. Remus Vanished the stretcher, then put Snape's arm around his shoulders and helped him in. He got him to the nearest chair and let him down. Two small lamps had been left burning, and in the dim light, the shadows cast across Severus' face gave him a terrifying appearance.

Quickly, Remus lit a fire and then lit four more of the lamps in the room. Then he turned back.

"What -?" He exhaled loudly. "I guess you went to see You-Know-Who again?"

Snape's eyes were shut, his head thrown back against the chair. Remus moved a bit closer and cringed at what he saw. The man's chest was covered with welts and bruises, his arms were swollen and purple. His face was covered with something foul, and so was the cape he had thrown over his shoulders. His legs, he could see even through his pants, were badly swollen, and the fabric around his waist was stretched tight.

Slowly, though Severus' eyes were still closed, he pulled his wand from his sweater pocket and aimed it at the man's face. "Tergeo!" he incanted with a sweep of the wand. The blood and - other stuff - disappeared from Snape's face. "I'm going to get Madam Pomfrey."

Snape forced his eyes open and grabbed Lupin's arm. "No. Please. - Help me." He didn't even seem to notice that Remus' wand was out.

The strange world Remus had entered a week ago seemed to have wrapped itself around him again. Severus Snape, asking him for help! It was hard to fathom. It was more than a little frightening. The organized world in which this man was in total control was vanishing like smoke.

"Alright, let's get you to your bed, though." He reached down and hefted Snape up, then half-dragged him to the door that led to his bedchamber. He opened the door - curiously, it wasn't locked - and pulled the owner in.

The room was in almost total darkness: only the light from the office illuminated it. The bed was easy to see, and he let Severus down gently on the edge. He pulled the wet, stinking cloak from Snape's shoulders, then laid him on his back.

He tossed the cloak on the floor, and pulled his wand back out. "Tergeo!" he said again, and most of the encrusted filth on the Snape's chest was siphoned away. He pointed his wand again and intoned the same spell again. Within a few seconds, the rest of the blood and vomit were gone and he got a better look at the man's injuries.

"You must have really pissed him off," he commented.

Severus shook his head. With his eyes still shut, he murmured, "He was - pleased."

Remus wanted to vomit. Instead, he reached to loosen the Potions master's clothing, then stopped before he touched anything. "Look, you're all swollen up," he said, standing back for a minute to look at the damage. "Are you going to curse me if I help you get your clothes off? You're going to cut off all your circulation if I don't."

Severus seemed to be having trouble breathing already, he noticed, and merely shook his head, which Remus took for permission.

A few flicks of the wand later and he'd removed the tight pants and boots and had covered the man with his sheet and a blanket. Nearly every visible inch of his body seemed to be battered and bruised. He knew he had to get help.

"Severus, listen. Whatever he did, it's more than you can handle. You're in bad shape."

"Blood - Replenishing. Potion," he said. He was shivering, his teeth clattered together, and his whole body was quaking. Remus conjured another blanket, but when it floated down the battered man winced with pain. "My stores. Private. Cupboard by the desk."

"And how do I open it?"

"Sealing charm. Simple."

Well, that much he understood. "Okay, what does it look like?"

"Blue bottle. Red stopper. Smells like licorice."

He wasn't liking this, but Severus seemed to know what he was doing. He seemed to be in his right mind, and though he was obviously cold and weak and in pain, he didn't seem terribly concerned about himself.

He left the man where he was and went back to the office. He opened the cabinet without trouble and searched around in it until he found the bottle that fit the right description. He pulled off the stopper and sniffed: licorice, all right.

He brought it back to the bedroom and handed it to Snape, then took it back as the man's hand shook so badly he spilled a fair amount on the bedclothes.

"Here." He held it to Severus' lips and raised his head to help him swallow. Then he put the cap back on the bottle and set it on the bedside table. "Now what?"

"Nothing. Just - need to rest." He shut his eyes and Remus watched for a minute. Then he looked around the room.

There was a small fireplace in the room, and he lit a fire in it. It didn't seem that cold to him, but there was the ever-present dank, dungeony dampness in these rooms. The Potions classroom had always felt like this, too.

"How about some cold cloths?" he suggested. "For the swelling? Or -"

"Not necessary."

He went back to the bedside and stared at the man. "What happened?"

"Taste of my own medicine," Severus said. "Literally." He began to cough and then he turned on his side and brought up more blood. Remus conjured a pail to contain it, and turned away: he was feeling queasy.

"So you have been making poisons for - him?" he asked, once Snape had settled back on the bed.

"Strong - medicine," he said. He opened his eyes as widely as he could. "Often - have to test it. Not unusual." He coughed and bent double from the pain, his arms wrapped around his stomach.

Remus watched, feeling helpless. "So - what now?"

It took a minute before he got a response. "More - potion. Every - fifteen minutes."

Great! He was going to be here for a while.

"I'll give you this dose," he said, uncorking the bottle again, "but I'm going to get Madam Pomfrey -"

"No!" He shook his head and his hair fell across his face. "I don't need her help! This will pass. It's not - as bad as it looks! Please!"

Remus rubbed a hand across his face and shook his head. "Let me tell Dumbledore you're back," he tried.

"No! Not - yet." He took several breaths, as if struggling against drowning, and finally he glared at Remus. "Don't make me - curse you, Lupin. Please - help me."

He met Severus' pleading eyes and capitulated. He conjured another chair and set it next to the bed. For the next two hours he poured Blood-Replenishing Potion down Snape's throat every fifteen minutes. He conjured another blanket, and then a third, before the man stopped shivering. And then, when the potion was gone, Severus closed his eyes and slept.

Remus waited until he was sure Snape was sleeping, then left the bedroom. The fire in the fireplace in the office was dying and he brought it back to life. Then he grabbed a small handful of Floo powder from the little hanging cauldron near the hearth, and dropped it into the flame.

"Dumbledore," he said, "Severus is back."

A couple minutes later, the Headmaster stepped out the fireplace, unfolding himself and brushing his robes off. He looked quickly around the dungeon office. "Where is he?"

Remus, who had conjured some tea over on the desk, nodded with his head toward the closed door at the back of the room. "Sleeping. I hope." He offered a cup of tea to Dumbledore.

"Thank you, no. - What happened?"

"I was trying to secure that last area with a ward - by the way, it's not taking - and he Apparated right next to me. He's - he said he had to test one of his poisons on himself."

The older wizard's expression turned blank, as if what Lupin had just said didn't make any sense. "Voldemort is still angry?" he asked, his voice low and monotoned.

"Actually, Severus said he was pleased. I'm not sure if he was being sarcastic."

"What poison? Why isn't he in the hospital wing?"

"He didn't want to go," Remus explained, feeling a bit defensive: Dumbledore's attitude seemed to assume that Lupin should have had more sense than to bring him here. "He said it wasn't as bad as it looked. He had some Blood-Replenishing Potion here," he pointed to the open cabinet, "and he took that. He said that was all he'd need."

"Blood-Replenishing..."

"He looks like he fell off his broom from a hundred feet up. His body's swollen and bruised, head to foot. He was vomiting blood."

"And you didn't take him to the hospital wing?"

"He had the antidote right here!" Remus yelled back. "He's not confused, there was no sign You-Know-Who touched his mind. He begged me not to take him up there." He paused and met the furious Headmaster's eyes. "He trusted me, Dumbledore. I don't think that was easy for him."

Without a word, Dumbledore crossed the room and quietly opened the door to the bedchamber. Remus watched from his position. The Headmaster stood in the doorway for a few seconds looking in, then closed the door and came back.

"Looks nasty, I know," Remus said. He drank some of the tea he'd fixed for himself. "I thought I'd go ahead and stay here until he wakes up."

Dumbledore shook his head. "You should go get dinner. The feast is almost done. You've worked hard on this, you deserve a break."

"I'll stay."

Dumbledore opened his mouth as if to protest, then closed it. "As you wish. - What's wrong with the ward you're trying to set?"

"I don't know. I'm beginning to think there's something there that doesn't want to be protected. Something I haven't been able to identify."

Dumbledore nodded, but he was staring at the closed door. "Dark magic, do you think?" he asked, and Remus met his eyes briefly and knew what Dumbledore was asking.

"I don't know. I - suppose we should check it."

The Headmaster nodded. "I'll check back with you in a couple hours. Shall I have some food brought down?"

"That would be nice, thank you."

Once Dumbledore had left, Remus made himself comfortable in the chair behind Severus' desk, the chair he'd sat in through the night less than a week before. This time, though, instead of merely huddling under his cloak for warmth, he took advantage of the glowing fire's warmth and looked through Severus' bookshelves for something interesting.

Interesting. He chuckled. Potions had never been his strongest suit, even though he'd always forced at least an "E" in it. Oddly, Defense Against the Dark Arts had been his favorite - and best - subject. Yet never once had anyone in his school days suggested that he was headed for life as a Death Eater because of it.

Probably, he thought, because his disposition toward the Dark Arts was so different from Snape's. He saw the defenses as a necessity, not a love. Severus, on the other hand, had a real passion for jinxes and poisons and hexes.

Lupin browsed through the book titles, finally settling on one that looked mildly informative (Decanting Love: A Guide to Euphoria and Other Potions of Romance) and not at all the sort of thing he'd have expected Severus to have in his library. With a grin, wondering if this would be something he could blackmail the man with later, he settled in to read it, only to be interrupted by a knock on the door.

Minerva McGonagall had come with a tray of food for him. "Dumbledore said you were keeping watch over Severus," she said, by way of explanation. "I thought I'd check to see how he's doing."

Remus grinned lopsidedly: this was curious, he thought. McGonagall wasn't someone he really thought of as being concerned for Severus Snape.

"Still sleeping as far as I know," he said. "I figure I'd've heard him screeching if he were awake."

The intended light comment brought a scowl to McGonagall's features. "Screeching?"

Lupin had started to help himself to the large platter of goose and potatoes and chutney and other delights, but stopped. Hadn't Dumbledore told her?

"He's - he's -" He sighed. "It's not serious," he finally said. "At least, he says it's not. He seems to have it in hand."

McGonagall's expression turned darker. "Not serious? What happened, Remus?"

He shrugged and rapidly condensed the story for the second time. Then, predictably, she went to the bedchamber door and cracked it open.

"Oh, Merlin's ghost!" she whispered, shutting the door quickly. "That's not serious?"

"Not according to him." He wondered if Snape would be amused to know that people were looking in on him like this while he slept: he was willing to bet not.

She scowled at him, as if he were personally responsible for Severus' condition, then took a long breath. "Can I fetch anything from Madam Pomfrey for you?"

He considered that question as he tore a hunk of meat from the duck thigh in front of him. "He used a Blood-Replenishing Potion," he said. "I think he only had that one container. If she has some of that..."

McGonagall nodded, her lips tight. "I'll be right back."

"Professor!"

She turned.

"He didn't want to end up in the hospital wing. You will try to be - discreet?"

She raised a disapproving eyebrow, as if he'd suggested she pilfer the potion. Which, he was hoping, was what she would do.

"I shall return in a few minutes, Mr. Lupin," she answer imperiously, reminding Remus of his school days and the reason he still couldn't call her by her first name.

Remus ate heartily of the food she'd brought him, starting on the pudding before she returned. He had nearly cleaned everything but the bones from the platter when he heard a noise behind him. He turned and saw Snape staggering from the bedroom, his hands grasping the door jamb.

"Severus! Hold up, there!" He got up and went to steady the man. "Don't you think you should get back to bed? Come on." He tried to encourage the man to turn around, but Severus had his own ideas. He was wearing a long, grey cotton nightshirt, but the sleeves didn't cover his lower arms, or his legs from the knees down. The bruising looked worse, if possible, than it had when he'd brought Snape back here. On the other hand, Severus had still been in his slacks and Remus hadn't seen his legs and feet clearly.

"In my cabinet," he said, his breath coming hard, "another potion. Back, top shelf." Remus had gotten him to the chair and he sank heavily into it. "Dark amber bottle. Blue stopper."

"I wish you'd let Madam Pomfrey do this," Lupin muttered, but he went back to the cabinet and started looking through it again. "Here, this it?" He held up a beautifully ornate glass bottle, and Snape nodded, his eyes were almost too swollen to open at all.

Remus opened the bottle and a powerful odor of pomegranate wafted out. He handed the bottle to the Potions master. "Smells familiar," he commented as Severus took a long sip from the bottle. He held out his hand for the stopper and Lupin handed it over.

"It should. - Fifth year Potions class." He stared at Lupin, waiting for him to come up with the answer. In those few seconds, Remus realized that what Severus had said was true: he wasn't badly hurt if he could sit here like this and try to reduce Lupin to the status of a student.

"Strengthening Solution," he finally remembered. "I put a bit too much pomegranate in mine, if I remember."

"And turned it instead into a Quivering Extremity potion." He took another sip of the solution, then capped the bottle. "As you see, it's often simply three drops of the wrong - or right - thing that differentiates a healing potion from a deadly poison. - Dark Arts, indeed!" he scoffed.

He struggled to rise, but gave up quickly. Remus glanced guiltily at the empty platter: he hadn't thought to leave any for Severus. He hadn't expected him to be alert.

Remus moved away from the desk and Snape turned in his chair: his eyes lit on the book Remus had pulled out, and for some reason he felt his face flush.

"Uh, sorry, I was just - looking for something interesting."

Severus looked at Remus but there was nothing on his face that the werewolf could read. Nothing, of course, except the terrible swelling and bruising.

"You sure you won't let Madam Pomfrey -"

"One of the advantages of being the Potions master," Severus interrupted irritably, his voice harsh, as if it had been scoured with fire, "is that I have all the potions I might need. Here. And know - how to use -them."

At that moment, Professor McGonagall returned through the fireplace, a large bottle in her hands. She stepped out of the fireplace and stopped moving as she saw Severus glaring at her from behind his desk.

"What -?"

"Uh, Professor McGonagall," Remus said, moving quickly toward her side, away from Snape. "Uh, thank you for -"

"Merlin!" the older woman swore. Her eyes were huge, her lips were parted and she stared at the horrible sight of Snape's face.

The Potions master forced himself to his feet, but he had to cling to the edge of the desk when he did. Suspicion and anger surged in his swollen, discolored eyes.

"What is she doing here?" he demanded of Lupin. His eyes, however, were fixed on McGonagall.

Remus glanced from one to the other. McGonagall was taking in the full view: Severus' face, his swollen arms, his hands and fingers. At least from where she was she couldn't see the awful discolorations that blanketed his legs and feet, Remus thought.

"I - well, I told Dumbledore you were back," Lupin confessed. "Professor McGonagall brought me some food. As you can see."

Severus finally tore his gaze from McGonagall's face and seemed to notice the empty tray on his desk. Then he glared at Lupin again. "Didn't you understand - that I did not - want - to be - seen?"

"Didn't you understand," McGonagall snapped, breaking free of her momentary immobility, "that Mr. Lupin did what was called for?" She crossed the room and slammed the jar down on Snape's desk, right in front of him. "There! More Blood-Replenishing Potion," she said sternly. "Remus said that's what you'd decided you needed. I hope you're right, because I took it from Madam Pomfrey's stores without her knowing!" She glared at Snape. "I think I'll let Albus know you're awake."

She swept out of the room, her tartan robes flowing after her.

Remus was left with an angry, but weakened, Potions master. He turned around to face him. Severus just glared at him for a few seconds, then sat back in his chair. He closed his eyes and took a few breaths, then opened his eyes and picked up the brew McGonagall had left him.

"So, just what kind of poison is that the antidote for?" Lupin asked, feeling suddenly bold.

Severus put the bottle down and picked up the half-emptied Strengthening Solution. "A variation on a potion - to extract toxins from the system." He slugged down more of the draught in his hand, then closed his eyes again.

"And your variation does - what?"

"Oh, please!" Snape shook his head very carefully. "You can see the effects, Lupin, don't ask idiotic questions!"

"So you made a potion to cause people to bleed to death?"

He turned a long, glowering look on the werewolf. "Essentially. Yes." He pushed himself up, and without another word he went back to his bedchamber, holding onto the wall as he went.

Dumbledore - and McGonagall - returned just as Severus had closed the door to his inner chamber. Remus greeted them with a shrug and waved his hand in the direction Snape had gone, beginning to realize how thankless his decision to stay and help was.

McGonagall waited with Remus while Dumbledore knocked on the bedroom door and then opened it. For several seconds, Dumbledore just stood there: from where he stood, Remus could see that Severus was sitting on the edge of his bed. McGonagall, standing next to Lupin, gasped and he turned to her.

"His legs," she whispered. "His - feet."

He nodded, but it was Dumbledore whom he was watching.

"Severus."

"Headmaster."

"How long will it take before the effects of this - potion - wear off?" the Headmaster asked, as if he'd caught Snape playing with some forbidden draught.

"I expect I should be - functional by tomorrow afternoon."

"Hmm." Dumbledore's glare was one Remus was glad hadn't been turned on him. He remembered it from his school days, and it could still make him cringe.

"Then I'll talk with you tomorrow afternoon. - Is there anything you need?"

Snape shook his head silently.

"Not now that I've gotten him more of his Blood-Replenishing Potion," McGonagall muttered, just loudly enough for Remus to hear.

Dumbledore considered the man on the bed for a few seconds, then he stepped into the chamber and shut the door to the room. Remus glanced at McGonagall: whatever he had to say to Snape, he didn't want them to hear.

"Brings back memories of various detentions," Lupin tried lightly. McGonagall looked at him with disapproval, but said nothing.

About a minute later, Dumbledore opened the door to the bedchamber and left. "Let him rest," he said to the two of them. "Minerva, if I could have a moment of your time?" he asked as he passed her on the way out of the office. She took a long breath and followed him out.

Remus looked through the bedroom doorway and saw Severus still sitting on the side of his bed, his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands. He looked defeated, Lupin thought, and it was actually quite a disconcerting sight.

* * *

He'd had to tell.

Severus felt the bruising around his eyes as sharp pains that seemed to dig into his brain. He sat with his face in his hands, not able to move, knowing that Lupin was watching, and not able to look up.

He'd had to tell Dumbledore.

His feet were throbbing with blood that swelled them, his knees and every other joint in his body were crying out in agony. But he couldn't move.

He'd had to tell Dumbledore about the other poison. The other Draught.

The Befuddlement Draught.

"I don't - remember what happened," he'd confessed. "I can't be sure - what he saw or didn't see."

His flesh was burning with the heat of the hemorrhages, his palms were small flames that pressed against his cheeks and his hooked nose. His hair fell over his face, hiding it at least a bit from Dumbledore's gaze.

"What kind of potion was it?"

"Very strong..." He remembered pieces, like snapshots. He remembered the room, the snake. He remembered Lucius Malfoy...

"Did he see anything else?"

"You." He'd looked at Dumbledore then. "He saw you - telling me - you trusted me."

"What else?"

What else? There had been something about Orestes. He remembered the Dark Lord asking about Orestes, but he couldn't remember what he'd said.

And he'd found the memories Lucius had Charmed, the ones he wasn't supposed to remember... and the Dark Lord picked at those memories again, made him relive them once more...

"Orestes," Dumbledore had said. "Why would Voldemort - I'm sorry," he said when the name caused another stab of pain the flare through the tattoo on Severus' arm. "Why would - Tom ask about Orestes?"

"He said - faithful servant." He shook his head. "I don't remember if he said that about Orestes or - or someone else."

"Who else? You?"

"Malfoy." He shivered.

Dumbledore stepped closer and put a hand very lightly on his shoulder. "Get some rest. Tomorrow - we'll take a look tomorrow."

He knew there was no way around it. He had to let it happen. Just as he had to let the Dark Lord into his mind, so he would have to let Dumbledore back in.

Minutes after the Headmaster left, he finally pulled his head up and glanced at Lupin in the doorway. "Shut the door."

He didn't care if Lupin wanted to stay out in the office. He just wanted to be left alone to sleep. He was abysmally tired.

But Lupin brought him the large jar of Blood-Replenishing Potion first, and without a word he helped Snape maneuver his painful limbs back into bed and covered him with the blankets.

"Call if you need anything," the werewolf said, and left.

Snape closed his eyes.

... He was back in the tunnel beneath the Whomping Willow: he was sixteen, and Potter was there, trapped. He ran into the Shack, saw the monster, grabbed Potter and then turned his back as the creature shrieked and attacked.

But it was not Lupin who clawed him; it was Voldemort.

"You have always been mine, Severus. Always." Then he turned to the man who stood behind him, the man who had introduced Snape to the Dark Lord. "Thank you, Lucius. I'll take it from here..."