The Last Sanguimagus

Severus drew out two vials from his travelling potions case. "Drink these," he commanded, handing them one at a time to Flint, who gratefully accepted them with trembling hands. Barely a man, yet tonight he had been Marked, just as Severus had been marked so many years ago. He could feel it on his arm, the Dark energy pulsating. Within moments Flint looked a little better; his colour had returned, and the trembling had died down, though in accordance with the Dark Lord's wishes the pain from the fresh Mark was not diminished.

The other Death Eaters were raising their glasses and celebrating the newest among them, and Severus helped Flint stand up. They shook his hand, welcoming him into the fold, each one praising him for taking the Mark so bravely. Their masks were off now.

Severus shrank his potions case and placed it in one of his pockets. Lucius handed him a glass, and he took it, gulping down the burning liquid quickly. He wished fervently to be anywhere but here.

The noise diminished suddenly, and the Death Eaters looked back to the throne where their master sat. The Dark Lord was smiling, his inhuman features frightening. "Ah, and now the entertainment," he said.

Entertainment? Severus felt his heart grow heavy. The part he dreaded. Carefully he drained himself of emotion, becoming empty and still. He tried not to look at Flint's face, fevered and brutish again. He did not want to think of himself, and what he had looked like after the Mark had been magically burned onto his arm.

"We have Macnair to thank for this interlude," said the Dark Lord. "Macnair...will you find Crabbe and Goyle and tell them to bring their guest?" Macnair nodded and left the hall. The red eyes scanned the Death Eaters, finally coming to rest on Severus and Lucius.

Severus could not see who was being brought in, but he noticed Bellatrix looking at Rodolphus with a confused expression. Several of the others were similarly bewildered. They had formed into a ring again, and Crabbe and Goyle were pulling a lone figure forward and depositing it in front of the Dark Lord.

Severus froze. For a long moment he could not breathe. No.

The figure was Sarah, her wrists bound tightly in front of her, her hands frozen in some painful looking way. Her robes were torn and bloodied and she was shaking. How--why--

"Ah, the blood witch," said the Dark Lord in satisfaction. "You escaped Macnair in Poland, and cleverly...but I found you nonetheless, despite that old fool." He smiled. "So much trouble for one girl..." His long, white fingers stroked the arm of the throne absently. "But you are well worth it. Shall I tell them about you? They wonder what makes you special...why I should be interested in you." She did not answer. "You still bear the marks of the Lingering Wounds Potion...marks that Lucius cut into your skin, and Severus transformed..." Severus glanced at Lucius. He was enthralled, his grey eyes riveted on her. "What they did not know was that they were indirectly creating a weapon...a beautiful stone, a Painstone."

Severus's blood roared in his ears as it all suddenly snapped together. I am a cursed fool. She was a Sanguimagus. He wanted to scream. Only his tight control kept him silent. His mind raced. Things fell into place. The anonymous tip that he had brushed off as ridiculous, was, in fact, the truth. The Dark artefact Silas had referred to was, in fact, a Painstone. Oh, Merlin, the horrid git was actually right about something. He felt nauseated. She was a Sanguimagus. No wonder she hadn't needed any pain potions. No wonder she had been so cold, so logical after the applications. I am a cursed, ignorant fool.

"This Painstone...perhaps the most powerful ever created..." His red eyes were fixed on Sarah. "Sixteen years of unrelenting pain, stored in a gem. A perfect weapon for a Dark Wizard. A lovely thing." Still she said nothing. "Don't be shy, little blood witch. Even you must know that these things are seldom created. You should feel honoured to hold the only active Painstone that exists. The others that I have chanced upon were...quite useless, really." He settled more comfortably on his throne. "After all, it only works for the creator...or the creator, controlled by some other force..."

"My Lord," said Macnair nervously. "Crabbe and Goyle have been unable to find the Painstone..."

The Dark Lord turned slowly to look at him. "She must have it with her...fools. Incompetent fools." He turned back to her. "Shall we see where you are hiding this object?" He smiled, and it was chilling. He leaned forward. There was silence for a moment. She tried to look away, but he waved his hand and she was forced to look at him again.

Severus realised he was holding his breath. He had discussed endlessly with Dumbledore this very situation...and now it was here. He could not save her. He could not risk destroying his cover. It was their only direct link to the Dark Lord, and he could do nothing to compromise it. The Order was counting on him. Thank Merlin she knew nothing that could endanger the Order.

"Where is the Painstone?" the Dark Lord demanded.

"At Hogwarts," she said. Her voice was so quiet he could barely make out her words.

"Where in Hogwarts?"

"I don't know," she said.

He seemed taken aback. "What did you do with it?" he asked dangerously.

"The Castle has hidden it for me," she said. "It will give it to me, and me alone."

"I see," said the Dark Lord thoughtfully. "Then we will simply have to convince you to ask for it. Crucio!"

***

Sarah knew pain intimately. It did not mean that she was immune to it. The Cruciatus Curse enveloped her, blinding her, immersing her in liquid flame. It was as if she was being bathed in broken glass. The agony continued, undiminished, harsh sensations battering her. Her everyday pain was nothing compared to this terrible, stabbing torture.

It stopped, and she lay on the ground, her breathing ragged. She must have fallen over. Her hands were still frozen in the binding spell, and her options were nearly exhausted. She tasted blood in her mouth.

"The other Death Eaters are curious," the Dark Lord said, watching her intently. "They want to know who you are." He leaned back in his throne. "My faithful...I give to you Sarah Tanner. Daughter of that fool in the Ministry...yes, that very one. She had the terrible luck to run into Lucius, Severus, and Macnair many years ago...they used her for some private sport, and left her for dead." He looked past her yet again. "Perhaps a reenactment would help allay their confusion..." He beckoned with long, white fingers to someone behind her.

Her blood ran cold. Terror, so long unfamiliar, crept into her very bones. She tried to think of something, anything, to help her, but her hands were held fast by the spell. Without them she could not use blood. Without her wand she could not cast anything. She looked up into the completely unexpected face of Severus Snape.

"You!" she snarled. Anger filled her. "Liar! Deceiver!"

He looked down at her, his face a cold mask of indifference. "A tiresome creature," he murmured.

Then she looked past him, and she could not speak. Her throat locked. The room seemed to spin. Lucius Malfoy was standing there, a chilling smile on his face. He shoved her onto her stomach with his foot.

A word, and the robes across her back ripped open. "Beautiful," said Lucius, his voice full of awe. "Your potion...it is magnificent, Severus."

"Pity it can't be reproduced." Severus's voice, calm, controlled. The same voice that had convinced her to let him help her. The same voice that had conversed with the Headmaster over meals in the Great Hall. The same voice that had, at one moment recently, defended her against Minerva. I will not think of him. I will not think of his betrayal. I must remain focused.

"Look...they still bleed as if it was done today." Lucius's voice was near her ear. He ran one hand lightly up her marred skin, and she trembled. "Every cut..." His fingernail began to dig into one of the wounds. "This is a masterpiece." He pushed in farther and she stifled a gasp. From her odd vantage point, she could see that the Death Eaters had come in closer to look. "Watch..." He spoke another word, a word that her body remembered only too well, and heard the sickening noise as the Slicing Charm cut into her back anew. "You see, they look the same...only this one will heal. The rest will not...due to the Lingering Wounds Potion. Such a marvelous creation..." If only I could move my hands...

"She's a blood witch?" asked someone dubiously.

"Apparently so," came Lucius's voice. "A reenactment...yes. That would be lovely." He began to rip her robes expertly. "But it seems someone has already done the first part...Crabbe? Goyle? Bored, were you?" She closed her eyes, trying to forget the beating. "She's already black and blue...pity."

"I'm ready for the next part," drawled Macnair. There was laughter.

"If I recall correctly, I was first," Lucius said. Her heart banged against her ribs. He could not mean to have her again. This could not be happening; it was a nightmare. Her mind would not concentrate. "But in the interest of recreating history, she isn't in the right position..." The snake-like cords around her wrists fell away, and she felt his hot hand on the back of her neck pulling her up, forcing her on her knees. "You do remember this, don't you?" he whispered into her ear. He shoved her face into the muck on the floor as Macnair laughed. The binding spell still held her hands twisted into claws. "Have you heard of the Imperius Curse?" he said. "I am quite the master at it. You and I will take a stroll in Hogwarts..." His hand drifted down her back. "I've learned so much since I took you last. Uses for the Slicing Charm that are quite...motivational. I just hope that I don't get carried away..."

There was a sudden pressure on her hand, someone's boot, inexorably grinding it into the marble. The pain increased until she heard a snapping sound. She gasped.

"You'll get your turn, Macnair," said Lucius irritably. "Don't distract her."

The boot was removed. She pulled her arms in weakly.

The binding spell was broken.

Her fingers seemed charged with electricity. She tried to keep her breathing even. She had to stay perfectly still. Think. There were too many of them, too close. There were no blood spells that would give her enough of a chance. I have no choice, then.

This had to be timed perfectly. Carefully, slowly, she moved her left forearm closer to her right hand.

"So lovely," breathed Lucius.

Her sleeve was in the way. She needed to get her fingers underneath.

"Bet you're wishing that you'd had a go last time," said Macnair.

"She is of no interest to me," responded Severus, his voice cruel and cold. "Then or now." Someone snickered.

The other Death Eaters murmured among themselves. Lucius's hands were on her hips, digging.

Her fingertips closed over the warm head of the nail.

Thank Merlin.

Another moment. She had to be certain which one it was.

She pulled it out.

At first nothing happened. The bloody nail was clutched in her hand. She heard the Dark Lord say something in his high, frightening voice.

Suddenly there was a tremendous red flash. It was so strong that it leaked through her eyelids, nearly blinding her for a moment. There was a terrific burst of energy, and Lucius's hands were no longer upon her. She heard the sound of bodies hitting the floor.

She opened her eyes, and straightened up. The air was cold upon her, and she tried to shake off the pain.

The Death Eaters lay on the ground in various unnatural positions. She wanted to cry in relief. But she had to leave now. Using her good hand she leveraged herself into a standing position. She stumbled. Her feet felt like they were asleep.

"Little witch," said the Dark Lord, slurring his words, pulling himself up.

She looked in horror. He stood up and raised his wand. "What I had planned for you is nothing compared to what I am going to do to you now..."

If you do not get away now you will be his slave forever. Her heart spasmed. She pulled out the second nail. No choice. She could see his lips moving. The nail began to glow. The fiery burst was upon her almost before she could react. He was nearly done with the spell--she could see the movement of his wand--

The incredible heat of the dark red flame was upon her--

The nail travelled in a high arc, and the cloud of flame went with it, striking his white body on the chest. He screamed horribly and fell, writhing.

Her eyes were tearing up. The right side of her face was scorched. She could feel the flesh of her shoulder blistering and cracking.

She pulled Lucius's cloak off and draped it clumsily over her shoulders, wincing. The Dark Lord was shrieking on the floor. Her wand and knife were in Macnair's robe and she retrieved them. She could feel her feet now, but moving them was difficult. One of the Death Eaters was stirring. "Stupefy," she hissed, and red light flashed from her wand, a tiny encore of the first nail's tremendous spell. She made her way to the high windows at the edge of the faded ballroom and escaped, tripping on the edge of the cloak and falling to the ground. The night air was cold and she stood up shakily, pulling the garment tighter. She could hear someone shouting and glass breaking. A jet of red light just missed her and she breathed in relief. Whatever came next did not matter, because she was finally free of the Disapparition ward on the manor. She thought of the Forbidden Forest and Apparated. There was a loud crack, and suddenly she was up to her knees in a slimy pool of water.

Everything was quiet and still, and she wished she had the Painstone with her. She winced at the agony of her shoulder. I must get back to the castle.

***