Trust and Betrayal: A Prequel

12. Descending into Darkness

Spring/Summer 1979

Lily
She ran out of the farmhouse's kitchen door, hoping to catch him before he Disapparated. Stepping into the garden, she looked frantically about, her hand shielding her eyes in the bright afternoon light. To her right, she caught a patch of light brown hair turn the corner, heading towards the barn.

"Remus! Stop!" she yelled and dashed after him.

He was just turning into his Disapparition when she grabbed his arm. "No, wait!" she pleaded.

Remus shook her off. "Lily, you could have been splinched," he barked, both upset and angry.

"I don't give a toss!" she snapped back. "Sirius is being an idiot! Don't let him run you off like that, especially since we haven't seen you in ages."

And what she did see was alarming. He had lost a lot of weight in the six months since they'd last seen him. His robes were tattered, and she could tell he'd attempted to clean them, but they were still discoloured and spotty. Lily also noticed fresh, vivid scars peeking out of his robes, just above his collarbone. Remus scowled and wrapped his arms around his thin frame, turning away from her

"It just makes it harder for everyone if I'm here," he muttered. "It was a mistake to come. Sirius was right about that, at least."

She knew that Remus was trying to shut her out, but she'd had too much experience with him to be dissuaded. "Can't you and I just talk for a bit before you go, at least? Please?" Her plaintive tone forced Remus to look at her.

He shrugged. "Okay. Just for a minute."

She led him up a small hill that overlooked the garden and sat upon a carved stone bench that Hagrid had recently placed below the tall oak tree.

"Sirius wasn't right about anything," Lily began. "He doesn't really believe you've turned against us. It's absurd! No one could honestly think that about you!"

"But how can you be so sure, Lily," he said bitterly. "No one knows where I've been, and since I've been gone, six members of the Order have died. Maybe it's not such a coincidence!"

Lily rolled her eyes. "Don't be daft, Remus. Of course I'm sure! Dumbledore knows where you've been and what you've been up to, and if he chooses to keep it secret from us, then that's his prerogative."

Remus jumped to his feet and began to pace, pulling at his frayed robes in frustration and anger.

"Well, that would be all right and good, except that Dumbledore doesn't know everything I've been up to. He trusts me to get him the information he needs but hasn't thought it important enough to ask for the details of what I have to go through to get it."

Lily considered the implications of what he was saying... and not saying. "It's been horrible for you, hasn't it?" she asked finally. "You've had to face... terrible things alone. I don't think Dumbledore should ask it of you, Remus. It's not right."

Remus stopped pacing. "No, it's not. But I'm the only one who can do it," he said, defeated and resigned. Lily got up and went to him, putting her hand gently on his shoulder.

"Look at me, Remus."

She felt Remus struggle, trying to avoid her eyes, but she wasn't going to let him wriggle away. Not this time.

"Please, for me?"

Slowly, Remus raised his head and allowed Lily to gaze into his haunted, brown eyes. She only lingered briefly, already knowing what she'd find there. In the next minute, however, he was gazing into hers, and she felt him... looking, seeing something within her. She'd forgotten he was a Legilimens. The sensation was a bit unsettling. It could have felt harsh and invasive, but it wasn't. With Remus it felt... lovely, and deeply intimate. Lily reached out and gathered him in her arms and after a moment, he embraced her in return.

"Remus, there is not a single, hateful bone in your body or thought in your soul," she whispered as she held him. "And you, of all people, who have faced more hatred and discrimination and hurt than any of us, might even deserve the right to hate in return. Yet you don't. I don't think you could, even if you wanted to."

She stepped back a bit, but he held onto her. There were tears in his eyes, as he looked at her with something like... gratitude? Yearning?

"Lily, I--thank you. I forget sometimes that there are people who know who I really am." He brushed a strand of hair out of her face and touched her cheek gently.

Lily smiled with relief. "You are our friend, and we love you, Remus."

This time he pulled her back into an intense embrace, his face rough against hers. She felt his warm breath first, and then, as he placed a tender kiss on her cheek, the kitchen door banged open. Remus leapt away from her like he'd been hit with a Stunner. Lily was startled as much by the sound as by Remus' reaction.

"Moony!" James called, making his way towards them. Lily noticed that Remus was looking flushed and a bit panicked. It hit her suddenly what he had been about to do, and she mentally slapped herself for unwittingly leading him on. She knew he must be mortified.

"It's all right, Remus," Lily whispered to him. "We're okay, really!" He looked at her, his eyes wide and uncertain.

"Really!" she said with emphasis just as James bounded to Remus' side.

"Moony, please don't take what Padfoot said to heart. Losing our friends here has hit him pretty hard, and he's just angry." James paused, swallowed, and cleared his throat. "And you know how he gets. He always takes it out on those closest to him. You've been away, so that made you a convenient target." James held up his hands. "I know it's wrong, and I've already taken him to task for it. Won't you please come back in?" he pleaded.

Remus wavered and Lily gestured to James to keep going. "There's tea and some tarts," he said with a nervous smile. "From the looks of you, I bet you haven't had a decent meal in ages!"

James tended to run on and on when he was nervous, and Lily was relieved to see Remus smiling at his old friend's attempt to make things right.

Just then they heard the familiar crack! of Apparition, and Dorcas Meadowes appeared in the garden. She looked flustered and fairly crackled with energy as she ran towards them.

"Is Dumbledore here?" she asked breathlessly. "I've got to see him right away!"

"He's upstairs in his study, I think," James replied. "Got here a while ago."

"Great! Thanks!" And she sprinted towards the farmhouse.

James looked after her, bemused. "Wonder what that's about?"

"Well, if it's something involving Dumbledore, it's not likely that we'll ever find out." Remus smirked.

James laughed and put one arm around his friend and the other around his wife. "Well, if the old man wants to hide things from us, how about we go and hide all the sweets from him? We won't leave him a single tart!" he said with a crooked grin.

"Give us a minute, James," Lily said with a quick peck on the cheek. "All right?"

"Sure, luv." He nodded, returning the kiss. He jabbed Remus lightly in the shoulder. "We'll be waiting for you, Moony."

Remus gave a brief smile in response as James turned and ambled back down the hill.

He watched James go back into the farmhouse. Lily watched Remus with trepidation.

"Remus--"

"No, Lily," interrupted Remus. "It's not all right. I can't--"

"Can't?"

"I can't do this. I can't be here. For so many reasons."

"Remus! I know you didn't mean it--you've been through a terrible ordeal, you're exhausted...."

Remus turned to her, his eyes so full of pain that Lily gasped to see it.

"But that's just it!" he shouted. "I DID mean it! I wanted... no... I want you! I...."

Neither of them spoke for a moment.

"It's for the best, can't you see?" he said, his voice hoarse. "I'll - I'll be away for a long while, but I'll send word through Albus that I'm all right. I - I don't want you to worry."

Lily could only nod as her heart tugged with a terrible ache.

Remus started as if to say something more, but then stopped. He gave her a small, tight smile, and then Disapparated.

*****

She kneels in the newly green grass and fists a clump of leaves in her hands. The hot tears flow, and her despair for Remus turns to outright anger. She swears at the madness that is tearing apart the world around her, as if the sunlight that shines overhead is a fraud, a mask for the real darkness that is always there, creeping over everyone she loves, ready to consume them all in a single moment.

Watching the sun sink lower in the sky, she calms a bit. No, she thinks. Light pierces the dark. It has to. She'll fight to make sure it does.

After a while, when the sun has retreated behind the horizon, Lily stands and wipes her eyes. Then she makes her way inside the farmhouse to find her boys.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Peter
He sat, waiting nervously in the corridor outside the massive, double oak doors leading to his master's chambers. This was a new place. I haven't been here before, he noted absentmindedly.

As always, he'd not seen a single soul when the Portkey transported him to this spot. Peter was a 'secret,' as he'd been told the first time he'd been brought to his master. As far as he could tell, he still was. He knew there were loads of people--Death Eaters--who were in his master's service, but he'd not seen a single figure, masked or otherwise, since the night of his kidnapping.

Unable to sit still, he got up and paced, rubbing and twisting his hands together anxiously. Peter hadn't been able to bring any information recently that his master deemed as 'useful,' and he was growing impatient. Peter didn't like to remember what happened the last time his master was impatient. Unfortunately, his body remembered the pain all too well, and it started to shake.

No! Peter thought, desperate to quell his panic. Not this time! This time I'm sure he'll be pleased. He will!

Peter thought it was ironic that he had Sirius to thank for it. Dumb luck, really. Last Saturday afternoon, after Sirius had run off Remus, he had turned on Peter, insulting him more viciously than ever. After flinging back a few well-chosen retorts of his own, Peter stormed out of the kitchen, hating Sirius more keenly than ever. Stomping upstairs, he was passing by the Headmaster's study when he heard voices. Putting his ear to the door he heard Dorcas and Dumbledore speaking. It was even dumber luck that Dumbledore had failed to cast the usual Imperturbable Charm. So, even though the door was closed, Peter could hear their voices clearly.

Not that he understood what they were talking about, of course, but he was smart enough to grasp that it was important. So, like a squirrel gathering acorns, he swept together all the bits and pieces that he'd overheard, ready to lay them at his master's feet.

~*~

"Of course I can't be certain, Albus, but it would make sense!"

"It might, indeed. How better to maintain power if one is immortal...."

"Best of all, I think I know where it is! I should know for certain by next Friday!"

"It's too risky to do this alone, Dorcas."

"Damn it, Albus! It's too risky to send anyone else!"

"My dear, it's most likely protected with curses. There might not be enough time--"

"I'll make sure I've enough time! Listen, I've not come all this way not to see it through to the end! How about I ask Edgar to help me with some curse-breaking spells? He doesn't have to know why."

"I don't know, Dorcas...."

"Albus, just think! We're so close! If we can finally get our hands on the blasted thing we can examine it to see if we're right. And if we are--"

"All right. But you must promise that you'll report to me as soon as you've confirmed its location."

"Yes, sir. I'll do that."

~*~

Peter smirked. He hadn't been a Marauder for all those years without having learnt a thing or two about defying authority, a trait that he knew Dorcas shared in spades. She's always a bit too keen on doing things her own way, he thought. Dorcas may have promised to report in, but he noted that she had cleverly not promised to tell him where the 'location' was. Or when she might go there.

He was startled out of his reverie when the double-doors opened with a creak behind him.

*****

"Enter."

The familiar high-pitched voice scrapes down his spine like a cascade of sharp nails. Peter's stomach lurches as he enters, and as the doors close sharply behind him, all the air seems to drain out of the room. It is hard to breathe. He does not dare look up, but glancing through his lashes, he can see that his master is sitting in a large wing-backed chair, a goblet in his hand and a fire crackling behind him.

"Come here, my pet," Voldemort says, beckoning Peter forward with one of his long, tapered fingers. "Your report, Wormtail," he commands softly, licking his lips with a rapid tongue flick.

Peter repeats what he has heard and is relieved to see a smile start to etch itself on his master's face.

"You have done well." His long fingers steeple together, his red-black eyes consider Peter. "You shall be rewarded for this, Wormtail."

Peter's heart soars, and his soul laps up the words of praise like a famished animal. He stands just a little bit taller.

"Thank you, my Lord!" he says with happiness, remembering at the last minute to bow obediently.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Severus
Their cell was responsible for attacking Muggle families. 'Sowing Fear', was what Mulciber called these missions. The lads enjoyed this duty, and they all had their assigned roles: Severus and Rosier destroyed the interior of the house while their comrades forced the terrified, pleading and weeping Muggles into a basement or another room without windows. There, they played with and, eventually, killed them all. Severus was glad to leave the blood sport to others; they seemed to revel in it far more than he did. Severus never saw the victims at the end; he was the one to cast the Dark Mark into the sky. It was like his personal signature, and he always felt a shiver of pride--of accomplishment--every time he did it.

Then, one very late night in July, he stumbled home, hot and exhausted. His head was pounding, and he felt nauseous, overwhelmed with unfamiliar and confusing feelings of doubt, loathing, and panic. He tore off his bloodstained robes and mask; his lank hair was plastered to his face with sweat. Opening the cupboard, he found a nearly empty bottle of Firewhisky, emptied it, and collapsed onto the sofa. He shut his eyes tightly and tried--and failed--to stop the scene from playing in his mind over and over again.

~*~

Their mission completed, he was leaving the house to cast the Mark. But, before he reached the front door, Severus caught a fleeting glimpse of something moving to his left. He turned and pointed his wand reflexively--and was startled to see a Muggle child, a boy of no more than three, hiding behind a sofa, eyes shut and keening softly.

The fools must have overlooked him when they rounded up the family, he thought, annoyed.

The child opened his eyes and looked up at him, whimpering. Severus was angry at being left to deal with this... oversight. He faltered, uncertain. His first instinct was to keep walking and ignore it, but at that moment, Rosier was there and saw it too. With a snort, Rosier dragged the child screaming and kicking out of its hiding place. He levitated the boy into the air, then, tossing the child up like a ball, Rosier cast a Slicing Hex on its torso. He stopped its descent with his wand just before it hit the ground. He continued to bounce him up and down, laughing at this new game. Blood splattered over them both.

"'Bout time we had a chance for a little sport. We never get a turn," Rosier huffed over the child's screams. "Here, Snape. You finish the job." He'd said it as if he was giving him a turn at darts at the pub. Severus hesitated for just a moment, but with Rosier's eyes on him, he focused, summoned the will, and cast the Killing Curse. The child finally fell to the ground with a thud, dead at his feet.

~*~

Severus clenched his fist over his eyes, silently berating himself for his weakness, for being affected by what was just another mission. He ached in a thousand places, his stomach still unsettled. With stars exploding behind his eyelids, Severus hauled himself to his feet with a groan. He was just about to move upstairs towards the bath when a fire in the grate flared green. Severus blinked, taking a moment to realise that it was Lucius Malfoy's head in the flames.

Severus felt his senses sharpen and his body tense.

He hadn't seen Malfoy since that night many, many months ago, when he had completed the Consentire Potion.

"Severus," said Malfoy.

"Malfoy," he acknowledged. "It's been a long time."

Malfoy raised an eyebrow and took in Severus' haggard appearance.

"I hear you are doing well, Severus. Our master is very pleased."

He waited for the rest. This was not a social call.

"He has asked that you meet with him tomorrow evening for a very--sensitive mission. He would like to assess your progress for himself and feels this is an opportune moment to do so. Remember, your performance reflects on me, so I expect you to do your best."

Severus nodded and felt as if there were ice running up his arms and down his spine, but took care to shield his thoughts and his expression. "Will you be there, sir?"

Malfoy shook his head and his white-blond hair took on a green tint as it reflected the Floo fire. "No. Our Lord has not requested my presence, and I do not know who will be there, other than yourself. You are also instructed not to discuss this with any of the others, including Dolohov and Mulciber."

Malfoy's head looked down for a moment, and then his hand reached through the flames, holding out a bit of folded parchment. "Here is the information. Memorise it and then destroy it."

Severus took it from him. "Yes, sir."

"Narcissa sends her best, Severus," said Malfoy briskly. "Good night."

And he was gone.

*****

It was late; Severus was tired and felt certain that he was lost. With only his lit wand illuminating the twisted path in the darkness, he swore as he navigated and stumbled over an assortment of hazards, including gaping holes, rocks, and tangling hedges. He had no idea where he was going or what he was supposed to do when he got there. He swore again when his hand caught on an outcropping of nettles and stopped before a thick copse of trees and sucked on the wound.

Out of the darkness came a low-throated laugh, and he threw himself instinctively to the ground in a defensive position. Pointing his wand at a clump of bush in front of him, he incanted, "Incendio!" The bush ignited, and the fire cast a flickering glow on a slight figure in Death Eater robes.

"You're on time, Snape. Glad to see Dolohov has taught you one useful thing. Get up, boy!" The voice, dripping with derision, belonged to a woman.

Severus stood, his heart thumping wildly as he moved cautiously towards her. She was not wearing a mask, and her long, black hair fell loose about her face, a striking contrast against her pale skin. As he came closer, he could see that she was regarding him with an amused smirk, and then he realised that he knew her: she was Reggie's 'Auntie Bella.' Bellatrix Black. No. He'd heard she'd married. Lestrange. Another Death Eater. A lovely family business, Severus thought wryly.

"Mrs. Lestrange. A pleasure to meet you again," said Severus with polite caution. There was something about this woman that told him not to let his guard down.

"We can exchange pleasantries another time, Snape. We have a job to do. Follow me."

She brushed past him and headed into the trees. Severus followed.

There, in the midst of the trees was a small, abandoned cottage. Part of the roof had caved in, and many of its tiles were scattered about the ground. Nettles had grown around the mossy stone of the cottage, and he could see that foliage had made headway into the house through the broken casement windows.

The door was already open, half-off its hinges, and Bellatrix stepped around it and into the cottage. Severus entered behind her.

The cottage appeared to have one main room, with two small doors leading off to others. It was empty, save for a rusty cauldron, the remains of an old iron stove, a broken chair, and several mice that scurried away at their presence. He wondered what this place was, what would happen here tonight, and when the Dark Lord would come. But he contained both his curiosity and anxiety, and carefully Occluded his mind.

After scanning the room, Bellatrix turned to Severus, her long hair swept behind her with a toss of her head.

"We've been given the honour of assisting the Dark Lord with a very important task, Snape."

"May I ask what that might involve?" Severus ventured, his curiosity getting the better of him.

"We are expecting a... guest at this location shortly, and we are to make sure she receives a proper welcome before our master arrives."

"I assume then, that we are preparing a surprise party?" he asked.

Bellatrix smiled widely, and Severus could see for the first time that this woman was the reverse image of her sister: dark where her sister was light, but just as beautiful. She moved towards him and pointed her lit wand in front of his face, examining his features carefully.

The image of a large tarantula came to mind, and he hoped she couldn't hear his heart, which seemed, in his ears, to be beating very loudly. But he didn't flinch.

"Very clever, young Snape." Her chuckle was low and menacing. Her free hand came up and touched his brow. He was drawn into the gaze of her dark eyes as the tips of her fingers moved slowly down the length of his cheek, across his lips, and down his chin, where it lingered for a very long moment. Competing feelings coursed through him. It took a great deal of effort to hold his Occlumency shields in place, but he could not prevent his body from reacting to her touch, the unfamiliar feeling of pure desire nearly undoing him.

She smiled again and let him go, looking satisfied and more than a little smug. He felt the breath returning to his lungs and realised he was a bit dizzy from the lack of oxygen.

"It's time for us to play Hide and Seek," she said, tapping him on the head. Severus felt himself Disillusioned. He looked at his hands but saw only the floor beneath them. Bellatrix incanted another spell, this one unfamiliar.

"That's to make us Undetectable, in case our guest decides to look for intruders," she explained as if she could read his invisible expression. "And, if you're a very good boy," she added suggestively, "Bella might teach it to you." Then, she cast the same spells on herself and instructed Severus to stand in a corner of the room. He did and assumed that Bellatrix had done the same.

Only a short time had passed before he saw the outline of a figure glide silently into the cottage. It incanted a spell, and an arc of yellow sparks emitted from a wand and shot around the room in all directions, clearly trying to detect a presence. In the intermittent glow, Severus could make out that the figure was a female. He wondered what she was looking for, and when Bellatrix would make her move. When the last of the searching sparks dissipated, the woman stood in the middle of the room and began to recite a different sort of spell, one in an odd language Severus had never heard before. As the recitation went on, a high-pitched sound began to reverberate through the room, like a song coming from somewhere far away. The sound drew nearer and grew louder, appearing to pool itself over a spot just in front of the old stove. The woman ceased chanting, but the eerie sound remained, pulsating until an odd glow appeared in the floor. She pointed her wand at the glowing spot, and with another spell, a section of the wooden floor disappeared, revealing a gap. The glow and the sound ceased, and the room echoed with silence once again.

The woman pulled out a small sack, opened it and placed it on the floor beside her. Severus held his breath as the woman leaned over the newly opened space and levitated an object out it. She began to guide it into the sack on the floor.

"INCARCEROUS!"

There was a gasp and Severus saw the woman fall roughly. He also heard the object she had summoned fall to the floor with a clunk. Something else skidded across the floor. Her wand, Severus thought. He summoned it in the dark, and in the next moment, he felt the thin wooden wand in his hand. It felt warm.

"Incendio!"

A torch flamed in Bellatrix's hand, and the room illuminated in a burst of light so sudden it made Severus squint. Adjusting to the brightness, he stood transfixed, waiting and watching as Bellatrix's form reappeared and moved towards the woman on the floor, now bound from head to toe in magical ropes. The woman's eyes were wide, fearful and fixed on Bellatrix, and her breathing was rapid and shallow. Bellatrix, in turn, was examining the woman as if she were considering a particularly tasty treat in the grocery.

"Our guest has arrived, Severus," said Bellatrix, her eyes glittering as she left the lit torch hovering above them. "I think we should offer her a seat. Why don't you find her one?"

Mentally shaking himself to attention, he quickly assembled the pieces of the broken chair that littered the floor into a renewed whole. Bellatrix swiftly re-cast her Incarcerous spell so that the woman was now seated in and bound to the chair. She leaned over and jabbed her wand under the woman's chin so hard that the woman gagged.

"I hope you are comfortable," she sneered. "Our host will be here in just a moment. He has been looking forward to meeting you."

Severus didn't think the woman's eyes could open any wider, but they did now. She looked wildly at Bellatrix and then swivelled her head around until she eyed the object she had come for, now lying crumpled on the floor. It appeared to be a necklace, with a pendant or a locket on it.

"You like nosing about in other people's houses, do you?" admonished Bellatrix with a disapproving frown. She glanced at the necklace but did not move to touch it. "That's very unseemly behaviour for a guest."

Severus logically concluded that the necklace must be very valuable, but assumed that there must be more to it. It would take more than concern about a simple theft for the Dark Lord to be directly involved. This had to be something special.

"And you haven't yet introduced yourself!" exclaimed Bellatrix. To Severus' surprise, Bellatrix straddled the woman and sat down with a firm bounce on her lap, gripping the woman's bound legs tightly with her thighs. Her wand was still held firmly under the woman's chin. Bellatrix leaned over so far that their faces were nearly touching and said softly, "My name is Bella. What's yours?"

The woman tried to back away from Bellatrix's advance, but there was, of course, nowhere to go. Nothing came out of the woman's mouth except a whimper.

Bellatrix frowned petulantly. "That's not very nice. I think you need to be taught better manners!" She leaned over the woman again and caressed her wild, brown hair. Then, seizing a fistful of it roughly, she whispered into the woman's ear, "Crucio!"

Severus recalled a childhood picture book of a cowboy riding a wild horse. He watched, fascinated, as Bellatrix laughed wildly while the woman underneath her bucked and screamed and thrashed to the limits of her bonds. Severus gaped, both embarrassed and appalled at his arousal.

It occurred to him that Bellatrix might be mad. And all the more dangerous for it. He tucked this insight away to be studied at a later time.

Finally, Bellatrix stepped away and lifted the curse. Ignoring the woman now gasping and twitching in the after-effects of the Cruciatus, she turned to Severus, all business.

"You can do the honours, Snape. Lift your sleeve," she instructed, pointing her wand at his left arm.

Severus complied. Bellatrix twisted it so the side with the Dark Mark faced up and held it firmly. With her wand, she wove an intricate pattern over his Mark. He felt a tingling pull from within the Mark itself, but the feeling was not unpleasant. Then, she muttered a brief spell and dropped his arm.

"He's coming," she said, her eyes bright with anticipation as she turned to stand beside him.

A sudden Crack! reverberated in the room, and the Dark Lord appeared. He glanced around the room with an odd smile.

He's been here before, Severus observed.

Then he felt Bellatrix grab his arm, and force him to his knees. He felt chills of excited anticipation.

Faint whimpers and moans came from the woman bound to the chair.

"No... no... get back... tell them... no...."

The tall wizard ignored them all as his eyes fell upon the necklace on the floor. He held out his hand, and with a flick, the necklace snapped into his grasp. He caressed it with a satisfied smile.

"It's still very beautiful," he said to no one in particular and then tucked it gently into his robes with a pat. The Dark Lord took a few steps towards one of the mossy, broken windows and stopped, staring at a spot in front of him for a long minute, as if in meditation. Then, with a start, he turned, and snapped his head to look at the bound woman, who was gasping and shaking uncontrollably.

"Miss Meadowes," Voldemort said silkily as he circled her. "I owe you my thanks."

The woman's gasps pitched higher, her face drained of all colour.

"You've shown me that there are weaknesses in my defences that must be rectified," he said, trailing his long fingers across her neck. "As a reward for your capable assistance, our entertainment with you tonight shall be brief. Best of all, you shall have the honour of dying by my hand."

The woman he called Miss Meadowes suddenly shut her eyes very tightly. Voldemort laughed.

"There is nothing in that silly head of yours that I don't already know, my dear." Her eyes snapped open again, wild with fright.

"Yes. I know about Dumbledore's folly: the 'Order of the Phoenix' he calls it?" He leaned over the woman, just as Bellatrix had done and spoke in a dark and quiet voice. "I know who you are. I know who the others are... and I know of your movements."

"Traitor!" hissed Miss Meadowes with painful understanding crossing her face. It was the first word Severus had heard her speak. Her dismay at the discovery of betrayal was oddly satisfying.

"Of course!" he spat in her face. "That old fool has always misplaced his trust in people. It will be his undoing."

He stepped away from her, and Severus felt the black-red eyes fall on him.

"Snape. Rise."

"Yes, my Lord." He obeyed, keeping his head down, and his voice from wavering.

"A brief demonstration with our guest, if you please. I wish to see a sample of your progress."

Severus felt his mouth go dry as he stepped towards the woman. He looked up at his master, just to make sure he understood the order.

"Yes, Snape. But leave her whole and alive at the end. The final curse belongs to me."

Severus nodded, trying to keep his anxiety at bay. He faced the woman. Although she was still shaking, she met his eyes without flinching, almost daringly.

I will not be your victim! The thought flew like sparks from her eyes and burned into his soul. You know my name. Think of it. Hear it in your nightmares!

In the same moment that her unwavering, challenging gaze bore into him, Severus felt himself detach, as if he was floating above his body, watching himself look at the bound woman in the chair. He felt... nothing. He felt free. His mind now released, Severus calmly unbound the woman and dragged her to her feet, where she tilted in her effort to remain upright.

Severus pulled out the woman's wand from his pocket and flung it on the ground. He noted a look of surprise on Bellatrix's face.

"Pick it up," he heard himself say. "Defend yourself."

Her stony expression faltered. She seemed to be debating whether it was worth the fight. In the end, she summoned the wand to her hand. But even if she weren't already weakened by Bellatrix's curse, she was still no match for Severus.

Without attempting to disarm her, he easily deflected her offensive moves and countered with an impressive barrage of curses and hexes. He made sure to include a sample of his self-invented curses in addition to those he'd been taught. With his audience watching attentively, Severus ended with a final whipping curse that wrapped itself around her body and then uncoiled with a snap leaving her in a panting, bloody mound on the floor, her garments rendered to shreds, her wand and her body broken. But she was still alive, as his master had commanded.

"Well done, indeed," said Voldemort, placing his hand on Severus' shoulder in approval.

Severus bowed and the adrenaline-filled backrush of magic hit him with a powerful surge, pleasure coursing through his body. It had been a while since he'd performed these spells. As the lovely sensations tingled in his extremities, the thought that he should do them more often crossed his mind. He stepped back towards Bellatrix, and she regarded him with an amused smile.

"You enjoyed that, didn't you, Snape?" she asked with a wicked grin.

Oh, yes. It felt very good, indeed. But in the afterglow, he considered her question more seriously. Severus decided that he what really enjoyed was the challenge of the hardest tasks. Proving his proficiency. And the acknowledgement. Yes. He enjoyed that, very much indeed.

Meanwhile, Voldemort had forced what was left of the woman back into the chair and immobilised her. Only her eyes indicated that an actual person remained inside, if anyone had cared to look. Standing behind her, Voldemort pointed his wand at an empty patch of the stone wall in front of them, and transfigured it into a mirror. Then, reaching into his robes, he pulled out the necklace and held it above her head. He considered their reflection in the mirror for a moment and smiled as if he liked what he saw.

"Since you went through so much trouble to find my family heirloom, Miss Meadowes," he said, meeting her gaze in the mirror, "I think that you should have the honour of trying it on." The woman's eyes were swollen and her body was frozen, but Severus could swear that she tried to move. Even after all that had already been done to her, he felt terror emanating from her like an open furnace. And yet, he was impressed that she had not begged or cried. He could almost respect her for it.

"It is, as you correctly surmise, cursed; spelled so that I am the only one who can touch it safely. But it would please me to see you wear it. I believe it will look beautiful on you."

Voldemort placed the necklace on the woman's neck and clasped it from behind.

Immediately, there was a hissing sound, and the smell and sound of flesh burning filled the small space. It was coming from her neck and chest where the necklace and the dangling locket touched her skin. Immobilised, the woman could not move or scream or respond. She could do nothing except watch herself die, her agony reflected in the transfigured mirror. The detached, floating feeling came over Severus again, and he observed that the curse was crawling under her skin like fire, charring the flesh black as it spread. They watched in silence for a long while, until Voldemort removed the necklace, and the woman, finally released, slid off the chair in a heap, dead.

*****

Voldemort casts several spells over the necklace and holds it out towards Bellatrix. She steps towards it cautiously.

"I have rendered the necklace inert, and it can now be handled," he says, tossing it to her. "It is your responsibility to protect this until you receive further instructions from me. Your life depends on it, Bella. Do you understand?"

Bellatrix stands proudly, clutching the necklace to her breast protectively, like a child. "I am grateful for the honour, my Lord. I will guard it with my life."

"And take that," he says with a dismissive wave toward the body on the floor, "to Dumbledore's doorstep. He'll no doubt be missing her."

Lord Voldemort turns to him. "Snape, report to your laboratory tomorrow for an important assignment. I require a very special potion."

His heart swells with pride and excitement. "Yes, my Lord. I will be there," he says, kneeling at his master's feet. With his head bowed, he allows himself a small, triumphant smile.

Severus feels redeemed.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

~*~ Autumn 1979 ~*~

Severus

At first, the rush of Pleasure washes over him each and every time. It is joy and release and peace. Its promise compels him to reach for it again and again. But, over time, the touch of Elemental Magic gives up its joys less and less and starts taking more and more.

Killing, mutilation, destruction. Curses, potions, deadly Dark magic. Pulling at him. Devouring him.

Time collapses into itself; one mission becomes another, becomes another. His soul and his magic fall into an abyss together. He is both stronger and more deadly, but doesn't even notice that he no longer seems to have any real... feelings.

Eventually, the Pleasure abandons him altogether, but in its retreat, his craving for it escalates. He just knows that if he works hard enough, it will come back. But now it's worse because he can see the Pleasure just ahead of him, tantalising him like a teasing woman, beckoning him forward while drawing steadily back, always just out of reach.

Just one more time and it will come back. It will.

He no longer cares about acknowledgment. His skill--well--that remains intact. He survives because his skill is dependably instinctive. The Magic won't let go of that part of him; it needs Severus to be effective in order to be fed. And Severus feeds it well.

*****

He's been assigned to Travers for a special mission and told to bring a dose of the Consentire potion. There is the briefest flare of actual feeling: it's... anticipation and... pride. Yes, he's quite proud of this potion, one of his best creations. And now he's been asked to test it.

Travers and his team have easily broken through the protective shields surrounding the house, and the family has been restrained with a minimum of resistance. A man, a woman, and their two children, a boy of around ten and a younger daughter, have been bound and surrounded by a half-dozen masked Death Eaters. The daughter is crying, and the boy looks angry. The man is speaking softly to his children. The woman seems to be the primary target. They call her 'McKinnon.'

"You've been quite a nuisance to our master, McKinnon," says Travers. Severus can't identify the other Death Eaters, but he recognises Travers by his voice.

"See here!" says the man with as much indignation as he can muster. "We haven't done anything to you or your - your master." He clenches his teeth at this last word. "Leave us be!"

One of the Death Eaters casts a Stinging Hex at the man who yelps in pain. This gives the others ideas, and they all begin to cast Stinging Hexes at the McKinnons. A cacophony of screams echo around the room.

When the hexes stop, the woman painfully raises her head.

"If it's me you want, then take me. Leave the rest of my family alone."

It's false bravado, Severus assesses clinically, sensing her terror. No one would really choose to die for another.

"Marlene! No!"

"Mum!"

Travers responds by roughly pulling the witch away from her family, unbinding her and grasping her arm so tightly that she yelps.

"Well, Madam, I think this should be a family affair. We have some special games planned!" He throws her to the floor. "Do you know 'Follow the Leader'?

The woman doesn't answer, and one of the Death Eaters grabs her daughter, twists her arm violently behind her back, and points a wand at her head.

"Have you heard of it?" Travers repeats calmly.

"Please let her go! I--"

The Death Eater twists her daughter's arm, and Severus hears it break before the girl's screams shatter the room.

"YES!" she shrieks as tears flow down her face.

"Good!" Travers says lightly, gratified. "Well, in our game, you get to be the leader, and the others," he says with a gesture towards her family, "will follow!"

Travers signals Severus who pulls out a phial from his robes and crosses to the woman who is struggling with all her might.

"NO! I won't! I--"

But her pleas turn into a gargle as two of Travers' men force her mouth open. Severus pours the draught down her throat, careful to make sure she does not choke.

He steps back to observe, cataloguing her reactions in his mind. He feels foolish for forgetting to bring parchment and a quill to write it down.

First her skin flushes red, then it pales. Then her eyes dilate and contract in rapid succession. Beads of sweat pop at her brow. She begins to wheeze, gasping for breath. After several minutes her appearance and breathing return to normal. She looks around at them, wondering what has happened. Severus looks into her eyes and finds her grasp at the hope that it's gone wrong. Severus knows otherwise.

"You can begin," Severus tells Travers who gives the signal to his men.

Travers rips her robes, and they fall to the floor, exposing her body, clad only in undergarments.

The first Death Eater steps forward, casting a Slicing Hex on her arm. She shrieks as blood pours from the wound. Then, at the same time, her husband, son and daughter shriek as well. They all clutch their arms where blood is pouring from their wounds, each one identical to their mother's.

The woman looks at her family, horrified as understanding dawns. "Oh, no... stop... leave them..." she pleads in pain more terrible than her physical wounds.

Travers, even behind his mask, looks impressed. "Next one," he says.

One by one, the Death Eaters take turns casting curse after curse at Marlene McKinnon and, by extension, her family. Her pain causes their pain. Her blood spills their blood.

Severus is pleased. The Consentire surpasses his expectations.

This will be a highly effective and useful tool in the Dark Lord's arsenal, he concludes.

In the end, Travers and his men kill what is left of the McKinnon family. Severus watches. It is their mission, after all, he concedes. But Travers, feeling generous, does permit Severus to cast the Dark Mark. It induces only a hint of the Pleasure he craves.

It will have to do, he thinks, shuddering with frustration and longing.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Peter
My master has been generous with his rewards. I'd have had to work for months to earn what he's given me! It was unfortunate about Marlene. She was always very nice to me. But it was necessary. What else could I do? He's expecting more and more, and if I don't give him something useful, he'll turn on James. I can't risk his even thinking about James. It was so lovely of Lily to invite me to dinner. When was it? Several months ago? I don't know why I can't remember. Their new house is very nice, even if it is small. I think I'm going to be able to move to a nicer place soon! Yes. Dinner was nice. Except for Sirius. Too bad that he had to come too. I DON'T have to put up with his insults any longer. He can't treat me like I'm dirt, especially when he's so vicious and untrustworthy. He's not good for James! It's too bad James and I haven't been able to get together much recently. Maybe I'll invite him and Lily over for dinner one night. Wonderful idea! Don't know why I didn't think of it sooner!

"Peter..."

Just the three of us! That would be lovely!

"Peter!"

I'll be able to break out that wine from my new collection....

"PETER!"

"What?" He realises he's lost himself in his thoughts in the middle of his dinner date with Alicia and notices his hand clutching a fork with a piece of lamb attached to it, hovering in mid-air.

"Where were you just now?" She looks put out with an expression that he thinks does not look very attractive.

"Nowhere! I mean I was here. Eating dinner." He pops the lamb into his mouth just to prove it. It's gone cold and therefore difficult to chew.

Alicia wipes her mouth with the cloth serviette and puts it down by her plate with a sigh.

"I can't do this, Peter."

Peter finally swallows the lamb. "Do what?"

"Go out with you anymore."

He looks at her, blinking, trying to understand what she is saying. They've been going out since--well, since that night. It's been nice having a woman to be with. She is good fun, and Peter enjoys making her laugh. She has a very nice laugh. And the other parts of her are, er, certainly nice too! But they hadn't become serious. Which is just fine, since Peter is very busy with work, the Order, unpredictable calls from his master....

No, she'd never understand that, he thinks with an involuntary shudder.

"Why--why do you say that?"

She pinches the bridge of her nose and looks at him with a sad shake of her head.

"You really are clueless, aren't you, Peter?"

He bristles at this and pouts.

"It was fine in the beginning. You were good fun then! But in the past while you've become, well, odd."

He feels like a fist has gone right through his chest and grabbed hold of his heart.

"Odd?" he squeaks.

Alicia takes a deep breath, resolved. "Yes, odd. You go off into these mental reveries for ages at a time. You twitch and jump at the slightest noise. You're edgy all the time. You've blocked me out of your life, Peter. We're growing apart, not together."

Peter is flabbergasted. He really doesn't think he'd done any of those things.

"I'm not. I mean, we're not! We're good together, aren't we?"

She leans back into her chair and shrugs. "I used to think so, Peter. But I don't anymore. You clearly don't want more from this relationship. In all this time, I've never even met this famous 'best friend' of yours. James."

Peter feels his face get warm. He doesn't want to share James with anyone. Except for Lily, of course. That can't be helped. But no one else.

"Well... I... things have been very busy," Peter says evasively.

She regards him coolly. "Yes, I imagine you have. My point precisely." She stands up and pulls her satchel over her shoulder. "Let's try and keep things amicable at work, eh?"

He nods mutely, more confused than before.

"Good night, Peter." She turns on her heel and walks out of the restaurant.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Lily
"Just stay home, Lily! You're no good to anyone if you get sick! If you don't Floo Esmé to beg off today, then I will!"

James is glaring at her, hands on his hips. She laughs.

"What's so funny? What's wrong with being concerned about my wife?"

"There's nothing wrong with it," she says with a smile. "You just look like your mum."

He scrunches up his face and flings the back of his hand against his forehead. "You wound me, woman."

In the end, she agrees to stay home. She has been feeling more tired than usual. Lily realises she's not had time to herself for ages.

"What will you do?" James asks as he puts on his cloak. He's meeting Sirius to work on one of their new inventions that Dumbledore thinks will be helpful to the Order.

She helps him with the clasp. "Today I shall be a lady of leisure. Magazines, romance novels, Floo calls to gossip with the girlfriends, bon-bons...."

He rolls his eyes and kisses her goodbye, but she does not let go, her lips lingering a bit longer on his than usual. He responds, forgetting for a moment that he has somewhere to go.

"Not fair, Mrs. Potter," he mutters as she pulls him closer.

She pretends to pout. "Well, I thought if I was skiving off, maybe you could too. We haven't had much time to ourselves lately." She says this last bit with a suggestive raise of an eyebrow while reaching behind him to grab his....

James leaps back. "Really not fair!" he gasps, and she smiles innocently. "How about I come home early? We can have the whole evening together. I'll bring home curry, all right?"

"You're on, Mr. Potter." He's just about out of the door when she calls out after him.

"And ice cream! Chocolate!"

*****

Lily is tucked under one of her mother's hand-made quilts with a cup of tea and some toast.

She sips her tea as her fingers trace the stitching in the quilt. She loves this quilt. It is all the more special because it was made without a smidgen of magic. Lily herself picked out the many soft browns, golds, and greens from her mother's fabric stash and watched her mum cut up and sew the pieces back together, stitch by stitch. Slowly, the individual patches came together to form an intricate pattern of stars, triangles, and circles. It was made with love, and Lily feels wrapped in her mother's care. It is magical in its own way, she thinks.

She hasn't told her parents much about the war, but she's worried about them. Dumbledore has placed protective charms around the Evans' house, and Lily has told them to limit their travels. She's glad Petunia is out of the house, having recently married and moved to Surrey. But she knows they are a target and feels helpless to do anything to change that fact. She pulls the quilt tighter around her shoulders as she feels a chill pass through her.

*****

Lily awakens several hours later, surprised that she's nodded off. She's never been one for taking naps. Rising from the sofa, she feels dizzy and wonders if she has the flu. Lily decides to do a quick diagnostic spell. The one that Dorcas taught her.... Thinking of Dorcas brings tears to her eyes, and she fights to not think of what happened. How they found her outside the gates of Hogwarts. What they did to her....

NO!

Where is my wand? She wipes her eyes.

She finds it in the kitchen and mentally scolds herself for not having it on hand like she should. Again. A good leather strap for her arm to hold her wand would be useful. She'll have to remember to ask Moody where to get one.

She suddenly feels dizzy again and makes her way to the toilet.

*****

James comes home a bit after five o'clock, bearing sacks with their dinner. Lily is sitting at the kitchen table, nursing another cup of tea when she hears him.

"Guess what?" she says, nervously turning her teacup in its saucer.

He says nothing as he puts the sacks down on the table and sits next to her.

"What?" he says, but she can tell he's distracted.

"James?"

He pulls his hand through his hair and tugs, making it stand straight up.

"I, um, have news," he says.

"Me too," she says.

They look at each other, seeing anxiety, sadness, and fear.

"Who is it?" Lily prompts.

"The McKinnons," James says, his voice cracking.

Her heart breaks in a million pieces. The tea cup clatters in its saucer. "Who--?"

"All of them," he answers, slumping in his chair, head in his hands.

There comes a point in the relentless onslaught of carnage, brutality, and loss when those in the midst of the fight must set aside their devastating pain, lock it way to be dealt with at a later time. But for now, they hold each other and allow themselves a brief moment of terrible, heartrending grief.

After a while, tears spent, James asks "Your news?" Her head is on his shoulder. The feeling of his hand stroking her hair is soothing.

"I'm pregnant." He doesn't say anything, and she's afraid to look up. Fear flutters and then clenches in her chest.

Finally, James pulls her back and looks at her with a curious expression. She doesn't look into his eyes too deeply, though.

He starts to speak but words don't come out. He clears his throat and tries again.

"Are you certain?" he croaks.

She nods and finds she is shaking.

"I'm afraid, James. This is such a terrible time to have a baby...."

"NO!" he says so vehemently that it startles her. "It is the perfect time to have a baby, Lily!" He gathers her in a tight embrace. "Merlin, to bring life into the world is exactly what is needed right now!"

She pulls back again, her face wet with tears. She has to make sure....

"Do you think we'll manage it, James? Isn't it too dangerous?" She wants to believe him so badly--that this is a good thing to happen. That they're not risking too much. She can barely imagine losing James without adding the worry of endangering a child!

"Of course it's dangerous!" he says, wiping her face with his fingers. "But life, Lily! We've created a child--our child! We're being given a gift, can't you see? It's a ray of light in the middle of the darkest night. He'll be our hope!"

Lily laughs. "He?"

James blinks. "Of course, he's a he. Potters always have sons!"

"How wonderfully chauvinistic of you, James," she says, rolling her eyes but feeling lighter than she had. "But isn't that an awful lot to pin on a baby? 'A ray of light?' 'Hope?'" she teases.

He stands up and takes her in his arms. His smile lights up the room. "All right. He can just be a baby then. Our baby."

They hold each other, laughing and crying for a while. She relishes the feel of James, his spirit and his physical presence, and wonders how she could have ever imagined a life without him. He is sometimes still incredibly pompous and stubborn as a crusted cauldron, but he is also fiercely brave and loyal to a fault. Most of all, his love for her remains strong and unwavering, and she's grateful; it keeps her afloat.

"You'll be a wonderful dad," she says, running her fingers through his untameable hair.

He pulls her close, leaning in for a kiss, but her hand suddenly grabs a fistful of his hair.

"Ow!" he yelps, bewildered and a little frightened.

Her piercing glare implies incipient danger.

"You did remember to get the ice cream," she growls. "Didn't you?"

************

A/N: My heartfelt and endless thanks to my hard-working betas, celtmama and capella_black!!!