Chapter Twelve - Hell Hath No Wrath Like The Dark Lord Scorned

"BLAST!" the grey-cloaked wizard blared, his back turned to his quaking followers, "Do you know what this means?"

No one dared to answer.

"Dumbledore died a natural death. Because of this, the Elder Wand's powers have died with him," the Dark Lord answered his own question.

"Severus Snape is to blame," Wormtail offered shakily.

"DID I SAY YOU COULD SPEAK?" Voldemort thundered, turning his sunken eyes on his subjugated entourage, "Draco Malfoy was supposed to take out Dumbledore. But yes, Severus Snape, that half-blood traitor, must have been working against him the entire time. Snape…" the Dark Lord's nostrils flared, "…will pay for his treachery. Draco, my boy, this is your last chance. You will kill Severus Snape. Then, you will bring Harry Potter to me." The sallow-skinned man smiled evilly in the blonde's direction.

Draco Malfoy stepped ahead from the line of Death Eaters, his head lowered in servitude.

"Do you understand, Draco Malfoy? It will be redemption or death for you," Voldemort intoned menacingly.

"Yes, my Lord," Draco answered softly.

"The Dark Lord is merciful!" Narcissa added automatically.

"Make sure that I am satisfied," the Dark Lord said dangerously after looking the mother and son over for signs of objection, but finding none.

Yet, from where he was, Harry could see that there were tears were forming in the Malfoy's umber eyes.

The Dark Lord had turned away, his thin fingers caressing his bald green head.

"It seems," Voldemort whispered dramatically, whipping around, "that this meeting is no longer private."

"SHIT!" Harry awoke in his bed with a cuss word on his lips. He quickly scanned the Gryffindor bedchamber. Ron was still snoring soundly. He must not have made a sound until now. Anger had him trembling as he fumbled with his glasses.

He sat on the edge of his bed for a moment, remembering that there was no Dumbledore to report this to anymore. He didn't want to tell Snape; he would be angry because Harry had failed to keep Voldemort out of his mind.

Tears involuntarily welled up in his eyes as he erred awhile in the corridors, hesitating outside of Professor McGonagall's quarters. Finally, he knocked on her door.

"Potter! What's the matter?" the older witch questioned, worry etched in her face as she opened the door to the trembling teenager, "Did you have another dream?"

Harry nodded, resignedly.

"Oh, dear," McGonagall sighed, "What are we going to do with you?"

"He knew…Voldemort knew that I could see them," Harry explained agitatedly, "He and his Death Eaters. He's going to…"

"Hold on there, Potter," McGonagall stopped him, "I really think it would be better if we included Professor Snape in on this conversation. He is much more…knowledgeable in this area."

Harry's heart lurched. Even though he had reconciled with Snape, he didn't really want to have to see him in the middle of the night when he was all worked up like this. It was embarrassing enough to wake his own head of house.

"Okay, Professor," Harry said quietly, "Shall I wake him?"

"No, that won't be necessary," McGonagall's tone softened, "You may stay here, Potter, in my sitting room. I will be back with Professor Snape shortly. We'll sort through all this together."

Harry nodded meekly as Professor McGonagall darted off down the darkened corridor. He took a seat on McGonagall's Gryffindor red sofa where he would wait for what seemed like an eternity.

Ten minutes later Snape entered the room with McGonagall. He was wearing his black robes, just as he did during the day. His greasy hair was not even disheveled. Did the man even sleep?

"I understand that you have had another dream," Snape said softly as he took a seat opposite Harry on a gold-coloured wingback chair, "What happened in it?"

"Sir, Vold- the Dark Lord-… he wants us killed," Harry whispered uneasily.

"No surprises there," Snape smiled sadly.

"Yes sir, but, he wants Draco to do it. He has ordered Draco to kill you, and to bring me to him," Harry added tensely.

Snape's face fell suddenly.

"He knows Professor, he knew that I saw this," Harry mentioned anxiously, "he found out right as I was waking up."

Then Snape's expression went from forlorn to stormy.

"I'm so sorry, Professor. It's all my fault. It's because I haven't been able to close my mind," Harry murmured, looking at the floor.

Severus looked the dejected teenager over carefully. The boy was shuddering. He wished he could simply scold him. He wished it were that simple.

"No, Harry. It is not your fault," Snape replied softly, resting his hand transiently on the teenager's quivering shoulder. I only wish that it were, he thought.

"I can't believe this," Minerva interjected with alarm in her voice, "the Malfoy boy is supposed to kill you? What are we going to do?"

"Frankly, I am more worried about Draco than I am about myself," Severus began cagily, "because Draco would never…"

"How can you be sure of that?" Minerva wondered aloud, "I am sure you-know-who has threatened him with death."

"He did," Harry clarified, "But when his back was turned, I saw that Draco and Narcissa were crying."

Snape nodded solemnly as if he expected it.

"Still, the Dark Lord's ire is cause for concern," Snape recapped.

"Which means?" Minerva inquired fearfully.

"Which means, henceforth, that I will not be letting Potter out of my sight," Severus declared, his black eyes intense with an old blend of burden and fury.