A silent scream rose up inside Severus, and he battled with every ounce of his self-control to keep it that way. The Dark Lord must not know, or all would be lost. He could feel a cold sweat breaking out all over his body; a physical reaction to replace the thoughts he could not think, not in present company. Eyes burned into Severus: as he trembled, he could see the stares of Malfoy, of the Lestrange brothers, of that little shit Crouch. And there was Bellatrix, her red mouth twisted into a gleeful smirk.
He ran from the room, stumbling almost blindly and leaned, panting, against the great yew tree.
April was turning to May, and the sun was warm upon Severus's clammy skin. It made the cold sweat feel colder still; he was shaking, shivering as though it were still the very depths of winter.
Lily was in danger. It was his fault. All his fault. Dumbledore's warning echoed loudly in his mind now, and he wondered if the old man had known all along that Lily was pregnant. Whether he had or not, it did not detract from the fact that had Severus heeded those words, had he withheld the information from the prophecy, then Lily would be perfectly safe. He looked to the leaves of the tree, green as her eyes, yet loaded with a lethal toxin which could kill a man in minutes. Perhaps...
No, he needed to live, to save her.
This is what happens when one locks all of one's emotions away in the locked box of the mind: the pressure builds, like steam, and it all comes screaming out in the end, with one quite unable to think clearly.
And now anger, rising fury, at the old man, at his red-headed love, and at JAMES POTTER for this. James Potter's filthy hands upon Lily's pale body, filling her and implanting a child in her belly. WITH DUMBLEDORE'S BLESSING. It was not Severus after all, who had put Lily in danger. It was James Potter for sowing his spawn inside his poor, beautiful Lily. James Potter's child was the one to whom the prophecy referred, the one who the Dark Lord sought to destroy... and James had placed it in the woman who should belong to Severus.
He must rescue her, therefore. She must be saved somehow, and she would love Severus, her liberator.
Or she would not, for James Potter had poisoned her against Severus.
How to spare Lily, yet destroy James?
How to survive it all?
Severus wished for clarity. The trembling was subsiding now, yet he could not see a way to spare Lily—if indeed it was the thing growing inside her to which the prediction referred—the Dark Lord would kill all who got in the way of his quest for domination, for immortality. He could not ask his master to save a Mudblood for that would betray his own heart utterly and put himself directly in the line of danger. Even as his mind whirled, Severus knew that this would not be wise.
That was what was wrong with Gryffindors: they would blindly fight with nary a thought for their own survival. Slytherins, on the other hand, will not simply blunder in; they will instead search for an appropriate course of action that will not end with their own demise. Even now, Severus appreciated this fact. His eyes flicked once again up the tree, and he admonished himself for ever considering ending his own life.
He would live, and his life would be with Lily.
Yet no matter how much Severus wracked his brains, he could see no way to achieve this. The fury and the horror he had previously experienced was now replaced by a sense of growing frustration. He could not simply ask the Dark Lord. Nor could he waltz up to Lily and make a run for it with her: he had no idea where she was, and felt she would not take too kindly to it. At any rate, she still had that baby in her belly which would mean that every Death Eater in the British Isles would search for them. A message of warning would be too dangerous: it may betray Severus as a traitor, and it would most likely push James Potter into a protective role.
There was nothing.
And then she came. Bellatrix. Severus had not given her a minute's thought as he brooded beneath the yew tree. Now he felt the familiar loathing, for himself and for the woman walking towards. Her gait was regal; she held herself erect and almost seemed to glide upon the grass. She had come to twist the knife, Severus expected. To taunt and to tease, when Severus needed the company of his own mind the most.
"Trying to think of a way to save your little Mudblood?" she asked. Her voice was harsh, her dark eyes shone with malevolence. Severus tightened his lips and refused to respond. "I told my lord that you had been ill today, and that was the reason for your sudden departure. I can help you."
She looked different somehow: Severus realised he had never seen her in daylight. In her house, heavy, dusty velvet curtains blocked out the sun. The result was striking: her long dark hair shone, and her skin became almost golden. A beacon of hope, she looked more beautiful than ever before. Had Severus's mind been working to anywhere close to its full capacity, he would not have seen a saviour. Desperation, however, can do strange things to a person:
"How?" he croaked.
The sun dipped behind a cloud, and cast a shadow upon Bellatrix's face.
"Beg me," she said. Her lips were twitching into that smirk that Severus hated so.
"You're lying."
"Perhaps I am," she cackled, "I'm sure you wouldn't mind risking that Mudblood's life to find out. But perhaps I know exactly what you need to do. After all, you have probably not found an acceptable option." She listed all the ideas Severus had thrown away. Her words pricked at him, and he hoped, in his mentally weakened state, that she could not read his thoughts. My mind is a locked box once again. Everything I have thought is hidden away.
"How- how can you help."
"If you beg me, I will help."
"Please, Bellatrix." Severus was disgusted by the sound of his own voice, disgusted in himself for acquiescing to her demand. Yet it could be the only way to save Lily. He would not allow himself to consider the implications of indebting himself to Bellatrix. This would be for Lily's life.
"On your knees."
He obeyed. "Save her for me."
She laughed again; it was like the Dark Lord's laugh, cold and piercing. "Kiss my feet, Snape."
He did it for Lily.
"Good boy. Now, what will you do in return for my aid?"
"Anything." It was true. He loved Lily, and would not have her in any danger.
"Now get up, you look like a dog down there." Severus stood, and she leaned towards him. Her breath smelt of red wine. "Rabastan, Avery and Mulciber all keep Muggle women for toys. Tell your master you wish the same for the Potter woman, and he may spare her as a reward for his little favourite."
It made sense, though the idea of pretending that he wanted his Lily for a slave was somewhat sickening. Now there was a way forward, though, Severus began to worry about the consequences with Bellatrix may be. She was certainly not helping due to an innate goodness: indeed, she was now in a very powerful position. If she were to tell the Dark Lord everything once he had followed her plan, he would be a dead man. If Severus ever went against Bellatrix, he knew she would tell the Dark Lord in a heartbeat.
"Are you grateful?" Her eyes burned into Severus, and he used all of his self-control to keep her out of his mind.
"I am."
"Show me," she replied, her lips moving closer to Severus's.
It was the last thing Severus wanted at that moment, but he knew he must now obey her every whim. He kissed her back, tasting the tang of wine. She pushed him backwards into the great trunk of the yew tree, ripping at his robes. The bark burned his back as Severus reminded himself that this was the only way to save himself and his Lily.
