THE RETURN
DISCLAIMER: I don't own them. I bet they're relieved.
SUMMARY: There had to be a reason why Voldemort didn't kill Snape outright once he reassembled his forces . . . A Voldemort POV poem.
PAIRINGS: Voldemort / Snape, not entirely consensually.
RATING: Mmmmm. R, I guess, for sadistic references.
ARCHIVE: List archives fine; everyone else ask first, please.
NOTES: It's very late . . . and I'm very ill. In other words, I refuse responsibility for this one!
Such spurious glances the children throw me
Granted between narrow, knotted words,
Such darkness as they bow before me
Eyes closed and hands fluttering like birds.
Such honour all my followers afford me,
Bowing almost double to the floor.
Whether they be noble, peasant or bourgeoisie
They know better than for mercy to implore.
Such lovely, delicate things they gift me
With, to keep me warm each night;
Each one with a guarantee
To last until the morning light.
Such surprises have been gathered for me,
Pretty things snatched from the ends of the earth
And bound at neck and wrist and knee
To fully display their lovely worth.
Such bribes are offered to me,
Each and every day –
To disguise the debris
Around here; the stench of decay.
Such fear is present as they look at me,
As they shake with fear in their beds.
They know – and don't you agree? –
That soon I will have their heads.
Such silly, silly things they ask of me
Like whether I'm comfortable or warm;
Whether I need to hear another toy's plea
That they will come to no harm.
Such ludicrous lies – that they were loyal to me –
While I rotted in nothingness
Are with what they expect me to agree,
And their wretched progeny to bless.
Such lovely bribes they bring me,
My wrath to assuage.
Such rewards they foresee
As they try my temperament to gauge.
Such laughter I found in me
When I saw you gifted, my lovely, faithless child
The fate I intend for them – with glee,
Of course – will seem mild;
Such lovely pain I expect from you. Me
And mine do not take betrayal well,
As you have doubtless discovered to some degree –
There will be no impetus, from here on, to rebel.
Can you guess why?
Don't worry, my tempting, fickle boy
I'm going to let you live.
This time I have no evil ploy –
I want to prove that I, too, can forgive.
Don't worry, my lovely, dark-souled dove,
Although the hurt will be much
Just pretend it's given with love
And it will not seem as such.
Don't worry, my lovely one
I won't let you feel the cold –
I'll make you come undone . . .
I'll welcome you back into my fold.
Don't worry, Severus, dear heart,
I'll welcome you into my bed –
But if your conscience should restart
I'll find myself a more loyal toy instead.
fin