Summoned

Chapter 27: The Caning

I've been telling Dumbledore for years and years he's too soft with you all. You filthy little beasts would never have dropped Stink Pellets if you'd known I had it in my power to whip you raw, would you, now?"

Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix

July 28, 1995, morning (cont.)

With a memory he felt like cursing, Dumbledore recalled without further help from Severus, what had transpired the following day. After a long, nearly sleepless night - for both of them, he later learned - he had come up with a three-pronged punishment.

"Twelve inches of parchment on what you did wrong and why you did it. All of it, including the way you planned to lie and deceive me. I will be looking for sincerity."

"Yes, sir." Severus' eyes were red-rimmed, and he moved stiffly, as if he were sore, even though Dumbledore had not imposed - and didn't intend to impose - any physical punishment.

"Second: Professor Slughorn will be taking possession of your broom for the rest of the year. You will not be needing it."

"But - but Quidditch!"

"You've lost the privilege of playing this year." That, he saw, had an amazing effect on the boy. He stammered, and tried to get out three or four different questions, all of which included, "What will I tell..." Dumbledore knew that Slytherin House would not be pleased that their Seeker - and, truthfully, the only decent player on their team this year - was not going to be playing.

"Third."

"What? - Sir?" he asked incredulously.

"You will report to Ms. Pince in the library each Wednesday evening after dinner for the rest of this term. There's a great deal of work to be done to keep it up, believe it or not: new books to be catalogued; old books to be removed; damaged books to be repaired. You will work with her for as long as she needs each night, and you will apply yourself diligently to the tasks she sets for you. Now. How did you lose your book on the train?"

The boy spent a few seconds rapidly thinking up an answer. "It was - I lost it."

"How?" he repeated.

"Uh, well, one of the - another student - took it from me."

"And you could not get it back?"

"He Vanished it. Sir."

Dumbledore nodded. "Potter, Black, or Pettigrew? Or Lupin, for a change?"

Severus turned red. "It was - someone I didn't know," he lied.

Dumbledore waited until he had the boy's full attention then said, again, "Potter, Black, or Pettigrew?"

"I -"

"Don't lie to me again, Severus. Which one?"

The boy looked at him defiantly. "I'm not a snitch!"

He sighed. "Very well. There are extra used copies that Professor Slughorn has in his stores. I'll have him give one of them to you." It was hardly a book the boy needed; but he knew it was a book the boy loved. He couldn't see denying him his legitimate interest in potion-making. Even Horace agree he was a near-genius in that class.

"Thank you, sir."

"The parchment is due after dinner this evening," he said.

"Yes, sir."

"Severus." The boy looked up. "As a matter of information, I do forgive you. But it will be a long time before I trust you again."

That night, Dumbledore read through an excellent piece of prose called, "Defying Dumbledore," and he felt reasonably certain that the contrition and sadness in the words were heartfelt.

* * *

Severus slept a bit longer this morning. Dumbledore wasn't sure why, but after twenty minutes, the wizard was still lying on his back on the bed, his eyes flitting back and forth beneath his lids, his body occasionally jerking or twitching in response to whatever was occupying his memories.

After checking him, he went back to his office and saw Minerva waiting for him - hooded.

"Good morning, Minerva," he greeted. "No change?"

"Good morning, Albus. No, not yet." She turned her head in the direction of the door he'd just come through. "Working with Severus?"

He nodded and gestured her to follow him to the fireplace. They took seats and he conjured tea for them.

"Is it helping?"

He considered his answer as he added sugar to his cup. "Some. Slowly. There's so much damage..." He took in a deep breath. "And, as he has just managed to remind me, I have a tendency to white-wash the past."

Minerva's hood slid back just a bit as she drank her tea, and the image of Lily caught Dumbledore off guard once again. "You, Albus? I thought you had a crystal-clear memory."

"Oh, it's sharp enough. But - I had forgotten that one of the reasons I have such confidence in Severus' ability to spy for us is that he's such an accomplished liar."

She almost spat her tea out. "Come again?"

"He can lie to Voldemort without him ever catching on. Do you know how much skill that takes?"

She nodded. "Enough to make that a very sharp two-edged sword, am I right?" He nodded. She put her cup down. "He's been lying to you?" she concluded.

He stared at the cloudy mix in his own cup. "There are things he lied about in the past. Things I've just learned the truth about." He found it disconcerting to meet Lily's eyes while he discussed this, so he avoided trying to make eye contact. "But lying is - a large part of what he does. For both sides."

As he finished speaking, he sensed that Severus had woken. "He's awake," he told her. "I should go back in and work with him some more."

Minerva rose and put a hand on his arm. "Be careful you don't wear yourself out," she cautioned. He nodded and put a hand over hers.

"Join me for lunch?" she called back as she headed for the door.

"If I can."

She left with a nod of her head, and Dumbledore opened the door to his bedchamber. Severus was sitting on the side of the bed, holding his head in his hands, his elbows propped on his knees.

"Well, I will say this," Dumbledore began, closing the door behind him and sitting next to the Potions master. "You do know how to get your point across."

The man slowly raised his head and turned to look at him. "I have no - idea - what you mean."

Dumbledore allowed him that minor falsehood: it was possible that the memories they had just revisited were simply what their earlier conversation had pulled to the surface. But it was just as likely that Severus had decided to find a memory that would parallel Dumbledore's current conflicts with Severus' honesty. And lack of it.

"Ready, then?" he asked quietly.

Severus laid back on the bed, hands folded over his stomach. He looked at Dumbledore. The black eyes met the blue and for a second, they tried to retreat. And then...

"Deletrius..."

"Protego!" Severus shouted suddenly. The Charm rebounded...

...Amazingly, Severus made it through the fall term with only one more detention, though Dumbledore had an idea - based on the number of times his name came up at staff meetings - that he narrowly escaped quite a few more.

Horace Slughorn had found him a used copy of Advanced Potion-Making, and that seemed to become something of a Bible for Severus: he was never without it, Dumbledore noticed.

Then, in the spring, Severus managed to create a situation that turned into one of the worst days Dumbledore had ever spent as Headmaster.

With just a little more than a month left in the year, Dumbledore found himself facing Argus Filch and Severus in his office, and things between him and his ward turned almost as bad as they possibly could.

Filch had a hard, deep grip around Severus' arm, and the boy was glaring at the caretaker with a vicious look. "He was in the restricted section, Headmaster," Filch began. "I caught him there, he said he was doing work for Madam Pince, but she says she never told him to be there."

"Severus? Were you doing work for Madam Pince?" he asked, praying that he was, that maybe the librarian had set him to a task she'd forgotten about...

The boy was stubbornly silent. But part of the reason for that was in Filch's other hand.

"What then, Mr. Filch?" Dumbledore asked, dreading the answer.

"Then I tried to take him to my office for a beating," the caretaker explained, brandishing his cane, "and the boy attacked me! Attacked me!!"

He took a long breath and knew that there would not be a good way out of this. "Severus, did you attack Mr. Filch?"

The boy was glaring at him, daring him to let Filch beat him.

"Did you?"

Severus held his rigid silence around him like a cloak.

Dumbledore closed his eyes and sighed. "Mr. Filch?"

"He shouted, 'Expelliarmus', and my cane come right up out of my hand and hit me on the head!"

Oh, damn! "Severus."

There was, behind the boy's defiance and anger, a very real, very legitimate terror lurking. He knew its cause, he knew that the boy was justified in being terrified. He had seen pictures of Severus when he'd been taken to the cell in the ministry: he knew how his father had treated him. But right then, at that time at Hogwarts, there was no proscription against the use of corporal punishment. It was a time-honored method that generations of Hogwarts students had endured and lived through quite unharmed.

Or reasonably so, where Filch was concerned. And right now, Filch was damnably within his rights to give the boy a beating. Severus was saying nothing in his own defense, was giving him nothing with which to try to ameliorate the situation.

"What did you have in mind, Mr. Filch?"

"Twenty strokes."

Dumbledore took off his glasses and pinched his nose and sighed. "Ten." It was the best he could do from the standpoint of justice, and probably more than the boy actually deserved.

"Ten? Ten's not even going to get the filthy little brat's attention! Twenty, I say!"

"Mr. Filch, please watch how you speak to me. I said ten. It will be ten."

The man grumbled, then he grabbed Severus' arm and started to drag him out of the office.

"No, Mr. Filch. Here. Now." There was no way he'd let Filch do this out of his sight: he knew the man too well. "And you will use restraint!"

Filch glared at him. Severus glared at him. He had made no one happy, and he felt like shaking the boy himself and demanding to know why he was so determined to cause himself so much trouble!

And the horrible thought that flickered through his head from time to time passed through once more: If I'd paid more attention to Tom Riddle... Maybe I can save this one...

And in that split second, he felt another mind touching his and he looked back at Severus and knew that the boy was using Legilimency on him!

Severus looked startled and dropped his gaze and for two seconds, the anger left his face. Then, as Argus Filch grabbed his arm roughly and forced him over to the nearest chair, Severus looked back at Dumbledore and gave him a look of loathing he'd seen before, but never aimed at him.

"Pants down, Snape!" Filch was saying, and Dumbledore broke himself from the sudden onslaught of thoughts and images that came shooting at him from Severus' mind. "I don't beat clothing! Too expensive."

Severus shuddered, and in his own mind, Dumbledore could imagine Tobias Snape screaming nearly identical words at his son as he advanced on him with his belt: Severus had been almost entirely naked when he'd been taken to the ministry cell two years ago.

But once again, Filch was within his rights. "Pants down, Mr. Snape," he ordered.

There was nothing in the boy's eyes now but pure hatred, and as he complied and Filch bent him forcibly over the back of the chair, he knew that this was a battle of wills he had lost by winning.

"Count 'em out!" Filch called, and brought the cane down, very hard.

There was silence after the sound of wood meeting flesh.

"If you don't count, it don't count!" Filch said. "We don't get to one 'til you count it!" He brought the cane down again, but still Severus made no sound.

This battle of wills he was going to let Severus win. "Ten, Mr. Filch. No more than ten. - That was two."

Filch was angry with Dumbledore, and sadly he was going to take it out on Severus. The cane made hard, thumping noises, and twice the force of it pushed Severus and the chair forward several inches along the floor. But Filch's greatest force was still much less than it had been years ago, and Dumbledore could see that he didn't break skin until the ninth stroke. That and the final one drew blood, but still Severus made no sound.

"That will do, Mr. Filch. You are finished. Please leave."

Grumbling and mumbling irritably, the man stormed from the office and Severus finally stood upright. He started to pull his pants back up but Dumbledore stopped him.

"Just a moment," he said, and came to take a look at the marks. There was deep bruising, and Filch delighted in covering the backs of student's legs, as well. "Go see Madam Pomfrey for some balm-"

"I don't need any balm!" Severus shot out and pulled his clothing back in place. "Can I go now? Sir?" he spat.

He looked at him and once more, he felt the boy trying to see into his thoughts, and felt Severus' just as strongly. He was angry, he was filled with hatred for Dumbledore, and he was humiliated. The physical pain was nothing: the pain that consumed him was that Dumbledore had let it happen, knowing what he knew.

And that Dumbledore had promised him last Christmas, after his testimony at the trial, that no one would ever hurt him like that again.

"You tear my heart into pieces, Severus, and I can't understand why."

The boy curled his lips in what was the very first, true, Severus Snape Sneer. "Because I am just like Tom Riddle!"

"Deletrius..." Dumbledore whispered, but the pain was too strong, and he couldn't cover the memory...

... "No, Severus, you are not!"

The boy slammed out of the room and by the time Dumbledore had followed, he saw that Severus had taken the staircase down two or three steps at a time, not waiting for it to stop. He was gone.

For an agonizing half hour, Albus sat in his office and pondered going after the boy. But the terrible pain he'd caused, the justifiable injustice, kept him in his office.

"Deletrius..."

... There was a knock on the door. He opened it and Severus came in, strutting with all the strength and all the pride he had left, but still moving stiffly, sorely for all of that. He had something in his hand.

"Here!" He threw the wrapped package across the room and waited while Dumbledore opened it.

"What's this?" He held the beautifully manufactured silver box - with legs that began to move - in his hand.

"I got it - I bought it for you - because I was - I was sorry I bought the book! I was going to tell you about it, and I was going to give that to you, and then you got the book first and then - and now -" The boy began to gasp for air.

You let Filch beat me...

Dumbledore glanced at the boy.

"I hate you! I hate you!" Severus screamed. "I hate you more than Tobias! I hate you and I will never ever ever forgive you! I hate you!"

And the boy ran from the room.

Dumbledore looked at the magical box: he remembered seeing it in the shop on Diagon Alley. He turned it over. The mark was there, as he'd expected. It was the work of Nicolas Flamel...

"STOP!" The Potions master pulled away and Dumbledore grabbed his hand again and held more tightly.

"Severus! Deletrius..."

He hovered over the scene...

... "Look, we all know you're good at potions! You could get paid for what you can do, don't you know that?"

"For what?" Severus demanded, turning his head away from Malfoy.

"For - well, for the things most of us can't do..."

... "Two more drops of dragon blood," Malfoy read from the crumpled parchment in his hand. They were in the unused Potions cupboard, where Severus had spent the previous summer. "And then stir it counter-clockwise fifteen times."...

... "Mudblood!"...

... "Lily!"...

... "Dumbledore trusts you," the snake whispered in his ear. "Good."

... "I own you, Severus."...

... "Where did the Dark Lord go?" he yelled, watching the writhing form on the ground with a blood-fury stronger than he'd ever thought possible. "Where did he go, Malfoy?" And in the next seconds, when the man refused still to answer, he shot another, nonverbal, "Crucio!" at him and heard him cry out in pain....

... "I've waited a very long time for this, Snivellus!"

"Be sure he's still useful to me when you've finished, Malfoy."

"Kneel, Snivellus!"

His face was in the dirt, Lucius was behind him...

... The book was there. He grabbed it. There was a scorch mark on the spine...He choked on the smoke and tears poured down his face and he put his hand, just lightly, on Lily's cheek, and then he heard sirens, Muggle alarms...

... He saw Dumbledore, blasted into the air. He hung for a moment beneath the shining skull, and then he fell...

... "I hope it's a girl..."

"Mr. Potter. Our - new celebrity."

... "Malfoy, please! Not tonight. Please!"

The blonde pulled him closer and encircled his waist. "Maybe you don't understand how this works," the boy said quietly. They were alone in his dorm room. Severus was in his nightshirt: he had answered Malfoy's un-subtle call for him. "When I tell you to do something, you do it."

He pulled back and Malfoy grabbed him harder. "Stop it!" he ordered. His hands roamed lower and then they stopped. His gaze sharpened. "What -" He grabbed Snape's arm and turned him forcefully around. Then he pushed Severus' nightshirt up and stared at the welts and bruises. "Who did this to you?" he demanded.

Severus couldn't answer. He yanked himself free of Malfoy's grasp and backed toward the closed door. "Just - leave me alone. Please!"

Malfoy closed on him, backing him against the closed door. "You're my boy!" Malfoy said, his teeth grinding, his eyes flaming with anger. "No one touches you without my permission! Who did that to you?"

In his mind, Severus pretended Malfoy was angry because he cared about him. It was certainly a fact that Dumbledore no longer did.

"I can't - just let me go to bed. Please!"

Malfoy had him backed up against the wooden door and the welts and bruises hurt. Then Lucius grabbed him again and pulled him close, very close. His hands moved down and he pushed the shift up and he put his cool fingers on the hot wounds. "Who - hurt you?" he whispered, his anger seemingly abated, his fingers spreading a cool, pleasant touch over the wounds.

"Filch," he finally confessed. His body began to relax beneath Malfoy's tender touch.

"Why?"

He closed his eyes and one of Malfoy's hands reached up and stroked the side of his face. "I was in the library," he said. "In the restricted section."

Malfoy stared hard at him. "Oh? And what were you looking for there?"

"Dragon eggs, he lied. "Using them."

He hated Dumbledore, and he hated Malfoy, but the boy's hands were soothing and felt good on his wounds. He pulled back.

"Can I go?" he asked. He felt tears beginning to fill his eyes as he realized that there was a horrible part of him that wanted to stay with Malfoy and let him make the pain better. A part of him that wanted to think Malfoy cared for him, since no one else did.

Malfoy tilted his head back and looked down on him. And then, as if he'd read Severus' mind, he said, very quietly. "No. You're my boy." He pulled Severus closer and led him to the large bed in the Prefect's room.

"I think," the older boy said, sitting on the edge of the bed and pulling Snape toward him, "that Filch needs to be punished. Don't you?"

Severus shook his head and blinked back the tears. "No. Don't do anything, Malfoy! Please!"

But Malfoy was already doing something, and Severus was lying on his stomach, and cool fingers, then cool cloths, lay on his bottom and his legs and the pain wasn't so bad, except that the real pain was even worse and he hated Dumbledore so much he couldn't think of anything except getting even...

And Malfoy lay next to him and promised that, together, they would make Dumbledore pay.

That night, a terrible thing happened. Malfoy pulled him closer and wrapped his arm under Severus' thin body and held him tight, and he felt warm, and Malfoy's fingers cooled the hot welts. And then Malfoy started to rub the sores, and Severus felt the pain again, sharp and fresh, and he squirmed to get away, but Malfoy held him tighter and rubbed his fingers harder along the wounds.

Severus twisted and yelped from the pain and Malfoy's other hand held him in front; and then Severus' stomach began to flip over and he felt something very different in his body, something that felt good, even while Malfoy made the pain worse, and then something wonderful started to happen and he twisted and groaned and Malfoy held him and stroked him and finally he began to feel like he was going to explode...

And he did. And he screamed.

Malfoy held him very close and kissed the side of his neck and pushed his hair from his face and whispered to him, "Now I know how to make my boy happy."

And Severus cried. Because he did.

And as he lay in his own bed later, just before dawn, he cried again and made no sound and felt, for the first time, like an orphan.

"Deletrius..."

The next morning, at breakfast, with about half the students there, Dumbledore rose from his seat and addressed the gathered multitude.

"Today," he began, "after consultation with the teachers and staff, I hereby ban every and any use of corporal or physical punishment of students. Corporal and physical punishment is defined as any punishment that causes physical pain or harm or injury. From this moment forward, beatings, whippings, floggings, canings, hanging from the wrists, and all other forms of discipline that cause physical pain or injury are prohibited."

The entire Hall was stunned into silence for about five seconds. Then the students erupted with loud applause and cheers.

Malfoy, sitting next to Severus, put his hand on the boy's leg and whispered, "Well, what do you know. You're the last student at Hogwarts to ever get caned! Maybe something good came out of last night after all!"

But it was too late for Severus: horrible things had happened already and Malfoy had a power over him that he could never, ever tell anyone about, he was too ashamed...

And Severus glared at the Headmaster and thought, "I am exactly like Tom Riddle. You'll see," and he hoped the Headmaster could read his mind!

Dumbledore did...

"Deletrius," he whispered, and the cloak obscured the scene and the pain that went with it...

He felt tears sear his cheeks and then Dumbledore's fingers cooled the fire. "Somnus," he commanded, and before his eyes closed, Severus looked at him with the same loathing he'd felt more than twenty years ago.

"We'll talk when you wake up," Dumbledore said, and watched the Potions master's eyes shut, and he began to dream.

* * *

"What time is it?" Severus left the bedchamber and found Dumbledore where he'd expected, at his desk, working on Hogwarts-related papers.

The Headmaster looked up and fixed a penetrating gaze on the Potions master. "Early, still. Not quite eleven."

Severus stood where he was. "One more session, then?" he asked coolly.

"If you wish. I thought you might want to talk about those last memories. Before we continue."

He ground his teeth. "No."

Dumbledore looked away and said, "I knew it hurt you, but I didn't -"

"I said no!"

"What choice did I have?" the Headmaster persisted, and Severus' anger flared.

"Oh, is that your defense? You had no choice? Why not let him hang me from the rafters by my wrists? Why not just about anything else! You - knew - what that did to me!"

And now he knew what had happened with Malfoy because of that. Now he knew the most horrible, shameful secret Severus had!

"I knew that you had broken at least three rules. You broke my trust - again!"

"And you broke mine!" He clenched his fists. "You promised you would never let anyone do that again! Do you remember?"

"I do," the Headmaster said, rising from his chair and crossing the room. "I also remember you promising you would not break the rules! Not only had you broken the rules, but you -"

"Tell me, Dumbledore, which is more important? The promise of a child to an adult? Or the promise of an adult to a child?"

The old wizard stopped where he was. He stared at Severus for several seconds, then took a deep breath. "You're right, Severus," he said quietly. "My promise to you should have been unconditional." He took one step closer and held out his hand. "Will you forgive me?"

It was too late for that, Severus thought. Far too late...

And then he thought of all the times he'd yearned to be forgiven. All the times Dumbledore had forgiven him, had taken him back, had trusted him. He thought of all the trust the Headmaster had given him, the times he'd accepted him back.

And it happened so quickly he had no time to defend himself. Dumbledore wrapped his arms around him and hugged him, then let go quickly and put his hands on the man's shoulders and looked deeply into his eyes. Severus had a cold feeling Dumbledore was going to say something about the other part, the dark, shameful thing that had happened. But instead, his eyes twinkling, he said quietly, "One more session?"

* * *

"Deletrius..."

... Over his office he hovered, and the door opened and a very angry fourteen-year-old entered. It was Christmas break, and there should have been only presents and good cheer and eggnog for the boy. But instead, there was this.

"Sit down, Severus," he invited, and met the boy halfway through the antechamber. He touched Severus' arm and urged him to sit in the soft, overstuffed chair near the fireplace, but Severus pulled himself away and ground his teeth and...

"NO!" Severus wrenched his hand from Dumbledore's and shut his eyes tightly. "No, not - not that!" He glared at Dumbledore. "Please!"

"Severus, they're your memories!" he said. "We're healing what's hurt you. What Voldem- what he found. What the dementors found." He clutched Severus' hand. "I know it hurts. But it won't when we're finished."

Severus' eyes were so filled with anger and fear that he finally couldn't meet them. He looked at his hand, holding Severus', and had a sudden, unbidden memory of something that had never happened...

... His hand was blackened. He was sitting in his office, looking at his hand with a curious disinterest. Severus had just let it go. "How long do you think I have?"

Severus was standing next to him, his expression dark with anger. He took forever to answer. And in his words was a sorrow he could almost not bear. "I cannot tell. Maybe a year..."

"Stop!" Severus screamed. He launched himself from the bed and started for the door.

"Severus!" He flicked his hand at the door and Charmed it closed. Severus turned, fury and panic in his eyes.

"It can't happen! I won't let it happen!"

Dumbledore stared at him and waited. And after a dozen or so long, hard breaths, Severus shut his eyes and sank to the floor. "I can't do it! I can't! I WOn't!" he howled.

The Headmaster of Hogwarts sank to his knees in front of him and grabbed his hands and pulled them from his face. "Severus," he said quietly. "It's a nightmare. It's not real. It's not real!"

"I- I can't do it!" Snape said. "Don't - don't ask me!"

But the Headmaster had seen enough. He hadn't known until the first vision of this, that Severus had the Sight. But he knew now, irrevocably, that he did.

He knew he would hang beneath the skull, and then he would fall.

He knew he would require Severus to do it.

He knew he would require it to save the soul of a child, and for that reason, Severus would hate himself and Dumbledore, but he would do it.

But that time was not yet. He pulled his friend close and held him. And after a while, they returned to the bed and Severus lay back and Dumbledore ignored the future and took them into the past.

"Deletrius..."

"Boy? My name is Abraxas Malfoy." The man looked down at him. "I'm Lucius' father. He said you were friends."

Friends? He stared at the man and couldn't make his eyes focus. He kept seeing the dementors, the things in his mind, his father's body, his mother waving her wand...

"We're going to leave here," the man said. He took the boy's hand and led him to a fireplace. He grabbed some Floo powder and poured a bit of it into Severus' hand. "Do you know how to do this?"

Severus shook his head, still trying to make sense of what was happening. He was sure Tobias was going to catch him, and then his mother would use her wand and...

Severus threw up on the stone floor.

"Oh, dear!" the elder Malfoy said. "Guards!"

"No! No!" Severus screamed and ran and then he realized the only place he could run was into the cell he'd just left, so he did and he crawled into a corner in the back of the cell and huddled there, dirty and smelling of vomit, and terrified.

"Severus, come out! I only called the guards to clean up the mess. Come out, boy, you're safe. - Come on!"

He kept looking at the man but he couldn't understand what was happening. They were going to hurt him again, they were going to get inside his head, he wouldn't ever be happy. And Tobias would find him and beat him...

"Severus." Abraxas Malfoy went into the cell and pulled him up by the arm. "Come along, boy, we're leaving here." He didn't let go of Severus this time. He grabbed enough Floo powder for both of them, then stepped into the fireplace with the boy held firmly under his arm.

"Entrance Way!" he declared, and then Severus felt something tickling him and flames leapt up around him and then they were outside Azkaban and the sea lapped along the rocks and there were three small boats rocking gently in the water at the shoreline.

"Come along, boy," Abraxas urged him, leading him to one of the boats moored at the edge of the rocks. It was the only boat that was manned. "Here we are, step carefully - hold onto my arm, Severus, hold on -"

He was falling, and he heard the man let out an "uhhh!" and then he remembered nothing.

... Dumbledore hovered above the scene, still waiting for the pain...

... He woke in a wonderful place. His bed was huge, and there were green curtains in the windows and emerald green covers over him, and the room was lit with a single, green lamp. It looked like the Slytherin Common Room had gone to Heaven!

He was wearing the softest, most comfortable pajamas he could ever remember, and he smelled like he'd taken a shower in something that grew green outside the windows. There was sunlight coming into the room, a gentle breeze flowing through the windows and the scent of lilies wafting over him.

"Severus?" The man who'd taken him away was standing over him. "Can you hear me, son?"

Son? He tried to nod, but then everything faded away again. He went back to Azkaban, to the horror of the dementors in his mind, to the terrible, nasty world they found inside him...

"Lucius, wait out there! I'll tell you if he's ready to talk with you. - Go!"

And the man was back again, and this time he sat on the edge of the bed and smiled. "Pretty bad time you've had of it, son," he said.

He tried to sit up, but he felt too weak to do anything. He looked at the man. "I've had worse. Sir," he muttered. He didn't want the man to think he was a weakling, even if he couldn't sit up yet.

Abraxas had thick, pale blonde hair, much like his son's, but his face was more filled out than Lucius'. Blue eyes that reminded him of Dumbledore's, gazed down on him, not unkindly. But there was a strength in his expression that Severus realized he probably would not like to see turn angry.

"Well, for now, you rest. - Are you hungry?"

Severus shook his head, then shut his eyes quickly and tried to fight back the nausea.

"Accio pail!" Abraxas called, and just in time he felt a cold, tin pail shoved against his chest and he rolled over and threw up again. When he was finished, the man's wand touched the edge of the pail and it Vanished.

"This happens a lot, son, don't be embarrassed. When the dementors get inside your head, they - rupture your memories. Thoughts always have some form of physical manifestation. Being sick to your stomach is one of the most common."

He blinked and rubbed his eyes and felt his thoughts weaving in and out. Abraxas was telling him something, the dementors found Tobias snarling as he grabbed Severus and bent him over the kitchen table, and his mother was still yelling at him for using magic without permission and Lily was sitting next to him in the playground, and then she ran off because the tree branch fell on her sister's head...

"You rest here for a bit longer, alright? Here." He pulled something out of the nightstand drawer next to him. It was a small bell. "Tap this with your finger if you need anything and my house-elf will come to help you. He will be ordered to do whatever you wish."

House-elf. What was a house-elf? Never mind, he was going to be sick again... Abraxas summoned another pail, but not quite fast enough. With a cry of disgust - who could blame him? - he leapt back as the first foul fountain sprayed over the bed and even splattered him.

"I'm - sorry -" He vomited again into the pail. "I'm - sir, I-"

"Tergeo!" the man said, flicking his wand toward Severus. "Scourgify!"

"No!" he cried, but it was too late, and bubbles began to come from his mouth and he spat into the pail over and over and his throat burned and finally Abraxas, who had seemed stunned, lifted the spell.

"God and Merlin, I've never seen that! What in the world..?"

He gasped and choked and finally wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "My mother - put a curse on me," he explained. "Whenever - whenever I said something I shouldn't, she - she used that spell - to wash out my mouth. It's - it hurts. A lot." He went back to spitting out the last of the soapsuds into the pail...

His throat burned, his nose burned, it felt like he'd swallowed acid, and his tongue was swollen and almost numb...

"Deletrius," Dumbledore whispered, his cloak swirling around the memory...

... Abraxas watched him for a few more seconds, then moved closer and took the pail and flicked his wand again, this time just using "Tergeo," to siphon away the remnants of the mess.

"Thank you. Sir."

"You're welcome. - My son's cousins are visiting right now, but I suppose you don't really feel up to much yet, do you?"

He shook his head, still trying to comprehend how he got here. "Sir?" Abraxas tilted his head downward and rolled his eyes upward to look at him. "You said that - that Lucius said we were - friends?"

"Aren't you?"

Oh, that was an easy answer to figure out! "Yes, sir, I just - well, how did he know - I mean, how did you know where I was?"

One side of Abraxas Malfoy's lips turned upward. "Lucius has been seeing Sierra LaRue," he explained.

That wasn't helpful. He shook his head. "Sierra LaRue?"

"Ah! Yes, one of the Aurors who - took you and your mother - was Chantilly LaRue." Severus still didn't understand. He shook his head and Abraxas said, somewhat impatiently, "The female Auror who came to your house. Her daughter is - seeing my son. She told him what happened. Lucius informed me, quite rightly. And now you're here. Oh, dear," he muttered again.

Apparently, the look on Severus' face was enough: the man summoned another pail and Severus went through the degrading routine once more. But this time, while he vomited, Abraxas summoned several more pails and left them stacked next to the bed.

"There," he said. "Now, I suggest you try to sleep a little more, and then when you waken, we'll see what's to be done next."

"Sir?" he asked. That sounded a lot like he was going to be told to leave.

"Nothing to concern yourself with, boy," the man answered, as if he understood Severus' fear. "No, you're welcome to stay the summer. You might even enjoy it. - No, we'll be discussing what to do about your overall situation." The man headed for the door. "Do feel free to summon my house-elf if you need anything, anything at all."

"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir." He waited until the door had closed, then lay back on the deep, plush pillows that reminded him of Hogwarts. Not like the skinny, flat things he had at home.

Then, just before he fell back to sleep, he returned to the holding cell in the Ministry building and the three men were leering at him and then one of them reached out and grabbed him, and even though he cried for help and screamed and tried to get free, the guards just watched and laughed and the other two men grabbed his legs and pulled him across the floor and then he was-

He sat up and grabbed a pail. When he was done, he tapped the bell and almost before the tinny ring had stopped, a curious looking creature appeared at the foot of his bed.

"Master has called for Dobby?"