Note: My dear readers, I must apologize for keeping you waiting. A year is an atrociously long absence, and I doubt many of you even recall reading my beginning chapters. However, if you're still out there, I've finally picked up the pen again. Please enjoy the following.
*I do not own any characters from the Harry Potter universe and attribute all credit to J.K. Rowling*
On all accounts, it was a miserable morning. Naturally, the heavens had seen fit to part and release a flood on the landscape, making it almost impossible to step in any direction without sinking down half a foot. One structure broke the rainfall, rising up into the fog like a twisted mountain. The deteriorating building sloped to one side, looking as if a giant had sat on the roof. In all likelihood, that very thing may have happened in the not too distant past. The countryside was otherwise sparse, lacking in civilization. Only the far distant mountains interrupted the horizon.
A flash of light illuminated the windows in the house accompanying a shrill cry of obvious pain. It petered off into a faint whimper, leaving behind a forlorn emptiness.
Snape cracked into the scene, Apparating directly in front of the warped mausoleum. He waved his wand dismissively, causing the rain to disperse to either side of him in depressing sheets. To the uneducated Muggle, it would appear as if the elements feared dampening the foreboding wizard.
Tightening the reins on his mind, Snape tread up the overgrown cobblestone walkway to the black, burned door. Evidence of wayward curses striped the wood. It clicked open before he reached it, swinging forward soundlessly. Snape had to fight the urge to roll his eyes. He hated unnecessary theatrics. After he entered, the door retreated shut, returning to its subservient position. The narrow hallway was not unlike the one at Number Twelve Grimmauld Place, though Snape noted the absence of any severed House-Elf heads. The Dark Lord's most recent retreat was perfect: a surface-level snake hole made of damp wood and dirty stone.
Snape stiffened, a familiar weight sliding over his feet. He peered disdainfully down at Nagini who slithered gracefully to the end of the corridor, veering left through an unseen doorway.
"Ah, my servant has returned," a cold voice intoned, echoing quietly through the house yet somehow impossibly filing it. "Come, Severus."
Solidifying his mental bastions one final time, Snape made his way silently into the adjoining room. His breath caught at the sight laid out before him.
Voldemort faced a cavernous fireplace that was spitting blue and green flames, his sickly white skin reflecting the colors in a disturbing and ghastly illusion. Sprawled about on dilapidated chairs and grimy couches were black cloaked Death Eaters. Wild grins lit up their evil faces, disgusting satisfaction permeating the atmosphere. Usually, Voldemort preferred to be alone with the quiet decay, but tonight he clearly wanted an audience. Bellatrix Lestrange sauntered out of the shadows, clearly reveling in the filth and defilement. In the center of the room, Hermione Granger hung from the ceiling, strung up by her wrists. Instead of manacles, flaming ropes encircled her wrists, holding her in place. Her skin was ashen and caked with blood, crimson rivulets running down her arms in excess like macabre birthday streamers.
"Come to see our new pet, Snape?" Bellatrix sang out. "She's been so delightful! Rather lights up the room, doesn't she?" Walking over to Granger, she slid her hands almost lovingly over the girl's cheekbone. A small cut opened in the wake of Bellatrix's fingernail. Granger didn't move, momentarily dead to the world.
"I think we tired her out," Bellatrix pouted. "It's a shame you didn't come sooner. Her shrieking is absolute music, positively top. And you should really see her writhe! Such a jolly dance. You'd think she was the one having all the fun!"
The surrounding Death Eaters sniggered dumbly. One of them twitched his wand and Granger's legs started doing a sloppy jig. They doubled over anew, shaking in mirth.
"Enough," Voldemort said.
The room stilled but for Granger's legs. Bellatrix jerked her wand and the unfunny dance ceased, leaving the broken body swaying gently.
The Dark Lord finally turned his red, slitted eyes to Snape who was lingering in the doorway. "Do step in, Severus. It's bad manners to brood in the corner." Snape did as he was told, circling near the wall in an effort to avoid Bellatrix. The ridiculous woman looked even more mad than usual, the stench of torture hanging about her person. She wore it like an erotic perfume, reveling in the lasciviousness. If the woman could mate with the darkness, she wouldn't hesitate.
Snape came to a stop near the fireplace. "My Lord," he murmured inclining his head until curtains of hair slipped over his face. Voldemort nodded almost absentmindedly, his gaze now transfixed on Granger. "Wasteful," he whispered, and Snape was sure the comment hadn't been for anyone but the Dark Lord himself. He seemed speculative, considering something left unsaid.
"What brings you from your post, Severus? As I remember, I instructed you to remain at Hogwarts unless you were called." Voldemort swiveled in place, daring Snape to contradict him.
"Of course, my Lord," Snaped acquiesced. "I confess, I found that your most recent acquisition intrigued me greatly. I wished to see the high and mighty Mudblood finally and properly…vilified." He allowed the shadow of a hungry smirk to tug at his mouth, making sure to inconspicuously shine it in Bellatrix's direction. She snatched instantly at the bait, widening her eyes conspiratorially.
"Ooh, Snape!" she crowed. "What's that gleam in your eye, then? No! Surely you don't…desi-ire the filthy Mudblood?" She drew out the word, scandalously caressing it with her tongue. "She's just a wee bitty baby!"
Snape tried to appear as reticent as possible, yet somewhat unabashed. He couldn't seem too eager or distant.
Voldemort's lids were shut so narrowly his eyes were almost invisible save for twin glowing crevices. "Leave," he commanded, and there was no question as to whom he was speaking.
The cloaked rabble exited speedily, thumping down the hallway and out the front door. Only Bellatrix remained with the two wizards, so lost in her glee that she'd dared to ignore Voldemort. She stared at Snape, mouthing disbelievingly and fluttering her fingers ecstatically.
"Bellatrix." Menaced wrapped around Voldemort's slight utterance, morphing her name into a profanity. She looked properly terrified as her shoulders drew in and her chin dropped. Gathering her skirts, Bellatrix dashed from the room as if one more second would set her afire. Judging from Voldemort's demeanor, it undoubtedly would have.
Silence engulfed the men, curling through their heavy garments. Granger swung almost imperceptivity, the momentum from her ghastly spasms almost depleted.
Snape bowed his head, waiting to be addressed. This was the moment. He hadn't guessed it would arrive so swiftly, but there he was. Next would come the assault, then vindication or execution.
The Dark Lord drifted to the girl, gazing at her lifelessness. "Does it not seem a shame, to you, Severus?"
Snape looked up, confused by the line of questioning. "Does what, my Lord?"
Voldemort continued to stare unblinkingly. "This creature, so full of willpower and magic. She is tainted by Muggle stink, and yet there is such potential. I almost regret having to destroy her. But there is no place for the innately damned in the new world."
Snape stood motionless, throwing up a last minute wall around his already impenetrable mind. He allowed minute traces of lust and victory to seep out and form a moat around his mental castle.
"Would you have her, Severus?"
"My Lord?"
Voldemort glanced at him. "Do not act the fool, Severus," he said sharply. "Answer."
Snape, shifted his weight and squared his shoulders. "I would. Yes."
"Why?" The question slithered to him and coiled around his neck, a verbal, serpentine noose.
It was then that he felt an immense pressure like a vice clamping over his head. His response would be accompanied by whatever memories Voldemort could excavate from his brain.
Snape opened his mouth but was instantly transported to the memory that Voldemort had just pounced upon.
"Professor, stop!"
Hermione skittered out of his reach, fear and want playing across her eyes as she anticipated his next move.
"Filthy child." Snape heard himself say the words in his head though he knew he'd never say such drivel aloud. "I know exactly what a slut like you requires."
"Professor!" Hermione was breathless, but now excitement prevailed as her dominant emotion. She reached out and touched him…there…
His vision shifted and he saw her start to change. Her eyes transformed, blazing with green. Fire shot down her hair, fizzling from root to tip in an angry wave, leaving behind a burnished waterfall of red locks.
Snape watched the memory zoom out from their private scene to reveal his Potions classroom. He saw himself brooding over his desk, eyes targeting a busy Granger as she slaved over her simmering cauldron.
A fantasy, nothing more.
"Ah." Snape jerked up as he felt Voldemort retreat from his mind. He looked away in contempt for himself but what he hoped came across as mild embarrassment. "She reminds you of the Potter girl," Voldemort said, nodding in understanding. "I'd hoped that you'd been broken of that addiction long ago, Severus."
Snape, already sick of the charade, swallowed his pride and allowed a sliver of truth to escape his lips. "She was the only woman I ever truly wanted."
"Yes, yes, such pointless attraction," Voldemort scoffed. He suddenly looked bored. "Take her, if you want. She's useless to me now."
Unbelievable, Snape thought. It was working. "My Lord?" He asked tentatively, trying to allow faint excitement to break through his words.
"She was never valuable, anyway. Perhaps as a bargaining chip, but no one seems to know where Potter is." His face grew dark and sinister, obviously enraged at being outsmarted by a mere boy. "Her mind broke almost immediately. After a day of the Cruciatus, everything in her head went deathly still. She hasn't said anything coherent since, only waking long enough to dull my ears with her screeching. Do me a service and remove her." Voldemort ceased speaking, returning to the fireplace and resuming his observance of the flames.
Snape, barely daring to believe he hadn't already been struck down and was simply dreaming his escape, moved toward Granger. He raised his wand to her wrists and the scorching bands dissipated. Her arms fell, but he kept her body suspended in front of him. He spared Voldemort one final, fleeting glance, murmuring his gratitude and striding to the door as fast as he could without attracting any last ire.
"Severus."
Snape froze, as did the girl, her body floating just outside the doorway. "My Lord?"
Voldemort twisted, solemnly regarding him. "I shan't forget this weakness."
"No, my Lord."
Outside the ramshackle house, Snape fixed his eyes on the horizon, ignoring the gawping stares from the moronic Death Eaters along with the battering rain. He didn't bother to part the drops as he withdrew. Bellatrix he surveyed from the corner of his eye, and he noted with deep satisfaction that her eyes were wild with resentment. He marched to the edge of the area's protective enchantments, waved them away, and pushed Granger through. He allowed the girl to float sideways into his arms, clutching her to his chest protectively. Without another thought, he spun on the spot and vanished.