Author's Note: Just a short chapter for this week. More updates coming out next weekend! Thanks for all the comments so far!

The Horcrux of Severus Snape – Chapter 21

All Soldiers Fall

Tonight, I am 6 again.

I am crouched in a corner of my bedroom. Staring at the words in my mother's old potions textbook, trying to drown out the screams from outside. Mother pleading with that monster.

Stop, please, Tobias, listen to me. It won't happen again!

I cover my ears and mumble out loud. "Add two rat tails and three…"

A loud smash. The vase on the mantle outside has fallen to the floor.

"… and three horned slugs. Dried Billywig Stings can help…"

Mother is crying. Weeping.

The monster saw her using magic in the kitchen earlier. Magic is forbidden at this house.

The sound of metal hitting wood. His belt buckle has just hit the wall. I cover my ears with my hands and stare hard at the book sprawled out in front of me.

"Billywig Stings can help… can help expedite…"

No! Please… Tobias, please… NO!

"…can help… expedite the…"

Screams. Screams escaping through the gaps of my fingers. Slipping into my ears.

"…expedite the process…" I mumble, tears streaming down my cheeks.

It's taking every ounce of strength I have left in my body to stop myself from running out and killing that monster. But every time the monster comes home smelling of alcohol, Mother makes me promise to never come out of the room. To stay locked in, pretend I'm asleep. But how can anyone sleep at a time like this?

I shove the textbook away and wrap my arms tightly around my knees.

Stop, stop, make it stop. Let him die. Please let him die.

I hear him shouting. I hear her choking. She shouts my name. She's shouting my name repeatedly. Her voice grows soft.

It's quiet.

She's alive, I tell myself. She's not dead, Severus. Don't worry.

The sound of the doorknob turning. I've forgotten to lock the door tonight.

I rush to bed, but it's too late. The monster is here, he's stumbling towards me. His belt buckle glistening in the light. I bite my lips, trembling, but I remain silent.

He strikes the floor once with the leather belt he holds in his hands. His eyes unfocused.

"Your turn," he says.

My eyes finally open on their own accord.

I've lost track of day and time. It's morning whenever I awake, and night when sleep claims me. The barriers of my mind are slowly breaking down. Years of practising Occlumency gone down the drain. After every few "events" I experience in this bloody place, Hobbart saunters by and pries open my mind a little further with Legilimency. Searching for information on Fawkes.

When he isn't doing that, he's content with simply watching me suffer. The "events" are a combination of real memories of the most painful situations I've ever been in, and imaginary ones. It's getting harder and harder to differentiate the two.

My body is more or less in a constant state of numbness, and my robes reek of my own sweat and sick. I've had no food for what seems like days. But Hobbart comes by every day and shoots water at me from his wand, laughing each time. The first few times he did this, I just stared at him, unflinching. But my body grows weak, and in order to keep myself alive, and my sanity intact, hydration is necessary. So, I caved. I allow my mouth to hang open like a dog, drinking every little drop of water possible. Hobbart calls me words which I know are accurate assessments of myself at this point of time.

Disgraceful. Disgusting. Filth.

There was a time I would rather die than be subjected to such humiliation. But I cannot die. Not now. Harry will come. He will come, you just see.

He will come.

Today, I spent the afternoon (or what felt like it should be an afternoon), enduring a vigorous Crucio session from the Dark Lord. The pain was not real, but it certainly felt like it was.

When it was over, Hobbart entered my cell and stuffed a piece of meat into my mouth, as "a reward" for humouring him. I was not certain what sort of meat it was, but I ate it nonetheless.

I've killed Mother several times since I've been here.

I deserve this. This torture is much deserved.

Potter and the Weasley girl copulate in front of me this evening.

Young Lily Potter and I are at the Shrieking Shack. But Lupin is here, he's transformed. He tears Lily apart and I do nothing but watch. Pieces of her flesh hit me across the face.

When I awake this time, I spit out the pieces of meat which Hobbart shoves into my mouth.

I actually look forward to Hobbart's visits. Everytime he stops by, he spends minutes insulting me, mocking me, laughing at me.

I welcome this.

Not because I'm a sadistic bastard, but because every minute he spends talking to me means one minute away from being thrown back into the torture that is my own mind.

I have come to accept the fact that I will probably die here. Potter has not come. He has failed me. I've deluded myself into thinking the boy cares for me. Everything he's ever said has been a lie.

It was all just a trick. Revenge for the way I'd treated him when he was younger. He and Horace have been in on this together all along. They betray me. I am foolish to have trusted anyone. Complacency has made me weak.

The Malfoy's are probably dead. The Ministry, as usual, has done nothing. Why waste precious time searching for servants of the Dark Lord?

Some days I can barely remember my own name.

Black and Potter have me suspended in mid-air, completely naked. The whole school watches and laughs. They point at my scars and call me a murderer.

I am a murderer.

It feels like I've been here for months.

Hobbart hasn't managed to get to Fawkes yet. I'm still alive.

I wish I was dead.

"I'm beginning to notice a pattern, Severus," Hobbart says.

"And what would that be?" I mumble.

"Why is it that Potter is the only one who keeps threatening to kill that blasted bird of yours?" he questions.

"Because he wants me dead," I say.

"Well yes, obviously. Who wouldn't?" Hobbart laughs. "But why him of all people? What's his connection to Fawkes?"

I say nothing.

"You know Severus, I think Potter is the only one who can get to the phoenix."

No.

I flinch slightly then look up at him.

"Think what you will," I say.

"Oho! So is that a yes? Why, perhaps it's time I send Potter a little invitation to our party. I'm certain you miss him so," Hobbart smiles.

What little heat that's left in my body rushes to my face for some reason.

"Potter may be daft but he's not foolish enough to fall for your trap, Hobbart," I say.

No. No, Potter cannot come. Hobbart would torture him.

"Oh, really now? If the two of you are as… well-acquainted as it seems… oh, I think he will most definitely come," Hobbart's smile grows wider.

I glare at him.

"Hold on to your knickers, Severus. No need to get all excited!" he laughs as he walks away from the gate in front of me.

Potter cannot come. He must not.

The anger I feel towards Hobbart is overwhelming. And the fear… for Potter.

But suddenly I begin to feel something I haven't felt in what seems like months.

That traitorous, foolish feeling -

Hope.