Title: Facing The Dark Lord

Author: Meatball

Rating: PG

Summary: Just my own little take on where Snape went when he apparated with Draco after killing Dumbledore. Just my own imaginings…and it's fun to see Snape give attitude to Voldie!

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Snape paused just outside the doorway of the old Riddle house, and looked around for a moment. The Dark Lord knew that he was there; of that, Snape had no doubt. The Dark Lord always knew, and he would be expecting him. But he needed to take a moment to compose himself. To block his mind...

…there. He had control. Over his emotions, over his mind. He was ready.

Satisfied that he would pass even the Dark Lord's inspection, Snape quickly reviewed the details of his story. Then he stepped inside the mansion.

Focusing his thoughts, he allowed his bootheels to ring on the dirty, dusty hardwood floors as he strode confidently to the staircase. The Dark Lord usually held court in the larger of the bedrooms upstairs, and that was where Snape was headed.

He winced as he deliberately climbed the curved staircase. He hadn't much time, after that damned hippogriff had attacked him, to mend his injuries. A quick healing spell had staunched the bleeding and effected a superficial cleansing, but he would need to do more, later. Assuming that there was a later. It all depended upon his performance within the next few minutes.

As he gained the top of the staircase, Snape took a deep breath, and continued down the hallway towards the only open doorway, from which a sickly green light spilled. He could hear conversation inside, which quickly broke off as he approached the door.

"I am here, my Lord."

"Enter."

Snape felt a sick chill run through his spine, and he suppressed a shudder. The sound of the Dark Lord's voice -- cold, yet at the same time, seductively charismatic -- never failed to trigger revulsion deep within him.

How he hated Voldemort.

"Ah, Severus."

Snape faced the Dark Lord, his cold face impassive. Of all the Dark Lord's servants, only two dared to sustain eye contact with him. Lucius Malfoy -- who was the very definition of foolish arrogance, by half -- and Snape.

While Voldemort was amused by Lucius' temerity, he often treated Snape with a cautious respect. Perhaps he felt that, unlike Lucius, Snape was a wizard to be reckoned with. Or, Snape thought with derision, perhaps Voldemort sensed that while Lucius "talked the talk", Snape "walked the walk". No matter. Whatever works, Severus thought to himself. Whatever does the trick.

"Severus," Voldemort murmured, running a dry hand over Snape's face caressingly. It made Snape think of a snake's skin, and he forced himself not to withdraw in disgust. "Severus, what is this? You are injured, my faithful friend." Did Snape detect the faintest sarcasm on the word "faithful"? "What has happened? And where are the others?"

"Dead," Snape said, flatly. He could feel the most delicate tendrils of thought, sensitive and probing, from the being in front of him. He allowed his mind to relax. Voldemort would be suspicious of any kind of shielding.

"What?"

The low timbre of Voldemort's voice sent the disgusting Wormtail scurrying away, squealing in fright. Snape was sickened by the sight. Even Nagini was silent, still, for the moment. As though she sensed the quiet menace in her master. Snape suspected that she did.

"Dead, my Lord. Killed by Dumbledore and his followers."

"Yet you, alone, survived."

"Yes, my Lord." The probing tendrils were stronger now. Snape resisted the urge to look away from those insane, hellish eyes.

"All?"

"Yes, my Lord. All."

"Even the Malfoy spawn?"

"Yes."

"Even Malfoy -- but…how?" The controlled voice held a hint of bloodlust, and more than a hint of anger. Snape knew that he must stand his ground, must not falter. The room was suffocating, overheated by the evilly-flickering green flames in the hearth. Still, he stood tall, and straight, and met his master's rage evenly.

"By my hand."

Voldemort's eyes widened, and he closed the gap between him and Severus. "Explain yourself," he snapped, his eyes dangerous.

Severus met his eyes defiantly, and spoke, matching Voldemort's tone precisely. It was an old trick, one that he had learned from his younger days. Never let bullies see you sweat. Give them exactly what they give you, and see how they like it.

See them back down.

"Perhaps I should rephrase that, Master. Malfoy is dead, yes, but not just by my hand. By yours as well. As you know."

The room had gone silent. Voldemort, somehow not appearing out-of-place in his flamboyant, antique muggle clothing, stared coldly at Snape, but did not interrupt. Snape continued. "You sent a child -- a mere boy -- to kill one of the greatest wizards of all time, and you sent the dregs of your ranks to assist him. Fenrir Greyback…he let the bloodlust take him over, and rather than backing up the boy, he attacked for pleasure." Snape shuddered, a calculated gesture. "The other idiots -- they hadn't a prayer against Dumbledore's team. By the time I found out what was going on and arrived on the scene, Dumbledore was mere seconds away from persuading young Malfoy to give up and surrender."

Snape sneered right in Voldemort's face.

"Pathetic."

A tense moment. Voldemort gazed stonily at Snape, and Snape glared back at him. Finally, Voldemort broke the silence.

"Continue."

Snape shrugged. "There's not much more to add. The boy's backup team was all killed by Dumbledore's bunch. I killed young Malfoy -- quickly, with the Avada Kedavera curse. He would have failed us. He was useless. Just like his father."

"And then I killed Dumbledore."

Voldemort actually gasped. Then he grinned.

"Severus…you…are you certain? Perhaps you are mistaken?"

"I blasted the old fool right off the top of the castle, my Lord. Avada Kedavera." Snape smiled grimly. "There was nothing left but a bloody pile of broken bones on the ground." He paused, then said, his tone ringing with satisfaction, "He's quite dead."

Voldemort stared at Snape for a long, appraising moment, then smiled. "You have my gratitude, Severus."

"Is that all?"

The smile faded from Voldemort's face. "And what more would you like, my arrogant friend? Is Lord Voldemort's gratitude not…enough…for you?"

"I want the boy."

There was a pause, then Voldemort said, "No."

Snape raised an eyebrow. He did not break eye contact.

"No," Voldemort repeated, belligerent now. "He's mine. Potter is mine!"

"Potter was there. Potter saw me."

Voldemort hissed. "You left a witness?"

"Thanks to your bungling," Snape said, his voice icy. "I had no choice."

He thought perhaps he had gone too far this time. His face a livid mask of rage, Voldemort raised his wand, but just as quick, Snape raised his own. Now or never, he thought. If he backed down now, he would die.

He would never back down. He would rather die.

Voldemort saw this truth in Snape's eyes, and, with tremendous effort, brought his anger under control. He slowly lowered his wand.

"Fine," he spat, almost snarling now. "But Snape…"

"Yes, my Lord," said Snape, lowering his own wand.

"Do what you want. Do what you will. But don't kill him." Voldemort smiled again, more of a leer, really. "Don't kill him. That pleasure…it shall be all mine."

Snape stared at the Dark Lord, his eyes cold and hard. "Fine," he said, at last. They stared each other down for a long moment.

Then, with an imperious wave of his skeletal hand, Voldemort said, "You may go."

"My Lord." Snape bowed deeply, then turned on his heel and walked out of the room. He could feel those venomous red eyes burning into his back as he went, but he never faltered.

Still, the time would soon come when Voldemort would not tolerate Snape's attitude, and would find a convenient way to dispose of him, much as he had found a convenient way to dispose of Lucius and Draco.

Once Snape had exited the front door, he paused on the front lawn, and sighed. He prepared to apparate, to the secret hiding place where he had safely deposited Narcissa and Draco, to protect them from the Dark Lord's vengeance.

And now he had to find a way to protect Potter, and help the Order again. He had to find a way to convince them that he was still, as always, on their side.

Only this time, he had to do it alone. Without Dumbledore.

Snape sighed again, sadly.

He had much to do.