Sometimes We Die
Chapter Thirty-Six: Birthmark
Author: H. Ashleigh
Disclaimer: I am obviously not J.K. Rowling, nor would I ever pretend to be. The views of the author and the views of the characters are often conflicting and are not equal. Please do not judge the author due to her character's failings, misjudgments, ineptitudes, and misperceptions.
December 6, 1976
9 p.m.
34 days
Severus sat in the Slytherin common room, studying a textbook. His housemates, who were all studying or occupying themselves in quiet ways, surrounded him. He sipped peacefully on a glass of water, and he smelt the charred wood of the crackling fire, and he felt content. His mid-term exams were looming, but he wasn't feeling too affected by stress from them.
Instead, he felt calm. He leisurely turned the pages of his book, undisturbed by the soft murmur of conversation around him. He didn't really have to study, as he was in very good shape.
Severus vaguely heard the main door to their common room open and close, and he would have normally paid it no mind had he not heard their Head of House begin to speak.
"Attention, Slytherin House," Slughorn began. "Gather round, please."
Severus was surprised, for their Head of House rarely ever came into the Slytherin common room. He stood up and walked over to where the rest of the students were gathering.
"I'm terribly sorry to interrupt your studying in this way," he began. His eyes were not nearly as happy as they usually were. "Something quite awful is happening. Hogsmeade is under siege."
A collective gasp went around the semi-circle of students gathered. The first and second years grew visibly nervous, but Severus retained his feeling of peace. Next to him, Jezzy and Virginia whispered back and forth with their heads bent.
"No one is to leave the common room tonight, under penalty of immediate expulsion. Headmaster Dumbledore's orders." Slughorn explained. "Is that understood?" He didn't wait for an answer before continuing. "Additionally, I will be kipping here with you tonight." He waved his wand once, and in one dark corner of the common room appeared an extravagant, canopied bed. "I suggest we retire now, to our own beds tonight, I should think."
Everyone, of course, turned around and headed to their respective dormitories.
"An attack on Hogsmeade, huh," Judas remarked as the five of them prepared for bed.
Evan shared a look with Severus and Judas, and Severus just turned around to pull on his night shirt. Frederick had already quickly undressed and gotten into his bed. He had been sure to yank his curtains shut violently after sending the room a wretched glare. Thomas was ignoring them as well. He morosely folded his dirty clothes and put them in his hamper, and then lay down in bed, but he didn't close his curtains the way Frederick had. Instead, he just lay there, staring straight up at the ceiling.
Severus straightened his desk, and then accepted the glass of firewhiskey Judas handed to him and Evan. The three of them drank it slowly and silently, and then they too retired to their beds without exchanging a single word.
December 19, 1976
Early morning, 7ish
Home in New Mills
21 days
Severus drank his coffee that morning, and read the Daily Prophet closely. The top story involved a dozen or so Death Eaters being prevented from attacking their target Muggle-town Fishguard in Wales. Apparently two young women, whose identities were unknown at the present moment, had apprehended them. One of the women had been rushed to St. Mungo's with serious injuries, and was currently in critical condition.
Severus sat back in his chair and mused silently for a few moments. He was almost sure Lily had told him that she and Emily were traveling through Fishguard on their way to Ireland. Isn't that what she had said? Of course, she could have also traveled through Holyhead, or Pembroke, or Stranraer. And plans did always change at the last moment. He found this development strange, though. He thought about it some more and then decided it was just a coincidence. He was sure that if something had happened, Emily or Lily would have immediately owled him.
He read the article further. The two women had dispatched all fourteen Death Eaters, and the Death Eaters were now rotting in Azkaban, awaiting trial. Most might find it simply astonishing that two young witches had been able to annihilate all of those Death Eaters, but there was much more to it than that.
Severus, quite familiar with the intricacies of the Dark Lord's ranks, knew these were Death Eaters who had never seen the inside of Hogwarts castle before. They were probably borderline-squibs, or merely witches and wizards whose levels of magic had never met the levels required of a Hogwarts student. There were many of these sorts of people running around the country, running around the world, in fact. Half educated by their parents, or perhaps by themselves, they were a danger and a menace to wizarding and Muggle society alike, but there frankly was nothing illegal about their presence and practice of magic once they were of legal age to do so.
About three-quarters of wizarding society was made up of these types of people, and the Dark Lord was very fascinated and encouraged by their presence. They made for perfect pawns and excellent cannon fodder in the Dark Lord's ranks, as they were easily manipulated. Uneducated bumpkins could be told and taught anything, and they would believe it, hold it close, value it as the all-encompassing truth.
The Dark Lord promised them greater recognition in society. They would no longer be held in such low-esteem by the educated portion of wizarding society, for he had promised them positions of prestige.
This was how the Dark Lord snagged 95% of the witches and wizards in his ranks. The other 5% were attracted for their own individual reasons, for reasons and promises shared secretly and quietly between himself and the Dark Lord.
December 21, 1976
19 days
Severus was beginning to feel concerned he had heard nothing from Lily, especially since he had sent her a letter two days previously. He was sure she was having a very good time in Ireland, but was she so busy she couldn't send him a two or three sentence note?
He told himself that if she hadn't contacted him by the end of the day, he was sending her another, more urgent note. Maybe he could even send Professor Figg a note, since that's whom she was staying with.
He didn't have to wait long, though. He received this letter from a disgruntled and very moody Lotte in the late afternoon.
Severus,
I'm sorry I haven't written you sooner, but Dublin is brilliant! Emily and I have decided to stay in Ireland for the remainder of Christmas hols, so I will see you on the Express in a couple weeks.
Lily
Her hand had been rushed, and he thought it didn't look too much like her handwriting at all, and he didn't think the attitude was right either, but he was content with the communication nonetheless.
Friday, January 7, 1977- Sunday, January 9, 1977
Two-Zero Days
Severus and Lily shut themselves into the Room of Requirement for the weekend. They had never taken advantage of the Room in quite this manner before, but Severus felt he quite deserved a nice long weekend with her and only her. This the Room was able to give them.
They both insured that they would not be missed by their housemates over the weekend, and practically ran to the Room to meet one another. They had met twice since classes had resumed the day before, but they had been unable to secure alone time.
The Room had generated a comfortable bedding area, as well as a settee, a fireplace, and a kitchen/dining area. Severus had looked oddly at Lily, who had arranged the Room, when he saw the kitchenette.
"Severus, I bought some cooking books when I was in Ireland," she explained. "And I have never cooked for you before. I wish to tempt my wand this weekend." She grinned mischievously.
"Are you sure you're adept at these charms?" he asked dubiously, flipping through one of the books.
"Sev, we've been practicing cooking charms for the last month with Flitwick," she replied dismissively. "Besides, who are you to doubt me in Charms?" She poked him playfully in the stomach, where she knew he was most decidedly not ticklish.
"Very well," he replied, contenting himself with lounging on the settee. "What's on the menu?"
"Well, I was thinking a good potato cake for tonight, and then in the morning we could do a huge Irish breakfast, and then for lunch I was…" Her voice slowly tapered off into lilting background music as he stared at her, her back to him as she bustled around the mini-kitchen. Her hair had grown very long, and now reached the small of her back. It was smooth, and rippled like a cherry-colored wheat field whenever she tossed her head a little bit.
They spent much of the weekend this way. She cooked for him, they lazed around, took advantage of one another and their alone time. It turned out that she was pretty good at cooking, although a bit of a novice. He particularly enjoyed the Dublin Coddle that she made Saturday evening for dinner. His thoughts were nowhere but in that Room with her. Sunday evening didn't even cross his mind until Sunday evening. The weekend ended all too quickly, though, and soon they were bidding adieu outside of the Room.
"I have so much work to tend to," Lily said, hurriedly giving him a kiss on the nose. "Thanks so much for the wonderful weekend, Sev. Additionally, happy, happy birthday. I'll see you at dinner?"
"I won't be at dinner tonight," he said curtly. "I've arranged for my mother to meet me in Hogsmeade for dinner."
"Oh, that's nice!" she exclaimed excitedly. "How is your mother, anyway?"
"Fine, I suppose," he replied, shrugging a little bit.
"Okay." She stood on tip toes to kiss his face again. "I'm so sorry I don't have your birthday present. Owl-order was supposed to have it here several days ago. I suppose any day now, we should expect it."
"Don't worry at all, dear," he assured her. "I just need you to be happy."
"And you have me." She leaned her body into his, and they were pressed together tightly. He felt his stomach and his groin clench with desire, but he didn't have time for another quickie. He gripped her upper arms gently, and peeled her off him.
"I'm running short on time," he explained to her. "I'm meeting my mother at six."
"Does Dumbledore know you're going to Hogsmeade?" Lily inquired.
"Consequently, no," he replied.
"Severus! You know we aren't supposed to be going into Hogsmeade at all! We aren't even supposed to leave school grounds! What are you thinking?"
"Lily, I am more than capable of fending for myself. Thank you, though."
"I don't think you're being very wise." She stepped back further away from him, and folded her arms across her chest.
"I'll be fine." He bent his head down to kiss her nose. "Now run along and work on your assignments." He turned her around a bit roughly, and smacked her on the bottom to get her moving in the direction of her common room. She turned her head around and glared suspiciously at him, but then proceeded towards Gryffindor tower.
He watched her go; he was quite aware this would be the last time he laid eyes on her as an innocent.
He made it back to his dormitory in record time. He insured the door was locked fast, and then undressed completely. He stared at his unmarked forearms, feeling neither excitement nor terror. He felt nothing.
Severus stared at his reflection in the mirror. His eyes were dark: something was shrouded in them. His hair hung down in lanky strands, framing his face like a picture. His nose was huge and over-dramatized by his angular cheekbones and his narrow chin. He swallowed heavily, and his Adam's apple bobbed.
He recalled one of the better kisses Lily had ever given him. She had kissed him that morning, right when they woke, deeper than usual. She gave him strength. His throat ached with what he was about to do.
But he had made this choice. In fact, he had made it years ago. There was no turning back now.
He stepped away from the long, oval mirror for a moment, and opened his trunk. Shoved in one corner was a tall, dusty bottle of single malt Scotch. He grasped the neck in one hand, and plucked up an equally dusty snifter. He set these on his neat desk blotter, quickly cleaned the snifter, and then poured himself a small amount of Scotch. Then, after administering a freshening charm to himself, proceeded to get dressed.
He drank slowly, relishing the taste of the liquor, as he carefully selected each article of clothing he was to wear that night. He chose his nicest pair of black slacks, and a midnight blue shirt. Over all this he had planned the nicer of the two cloaks he owned.
When he was fully dressed, sans his cloak, he stood in front of his desk and drank the rest of the Scotch in his glass in one gulp. Then he quickly poured himself another, and held it in his hand for a few moments, his lips drawn together in a tight line and his eyes staring straight ahead.
Everything he had ever known had built up to this night. He had crafted himself for this, had prepared his mind, his body, his very soul. Everything he ever thought he was hovered here, in this moment.
He downed the Scotch in the glass, and then turned to leave, grabbing his cloak and making sure his wand was tucked safely within reach. And he was off the Hogwarts grounds before he had time to even think about it.
Saloma, his escort, was leaning casually against the stonewall surrounding the castle.
"Done brooding, I hope," she said. She pushed herself off the wall, and slunk over towards him. "You are ready for this."
"Yes," he replied, agreeing with her.
"Then let's go." She smiled slightly at him, and held out her arm for him to touch. He had barely laid a finger on her skin before she Apparated them away to Malfoy grounds.
Severus had never been to Malfoy Manor before, and had never, in fact, met any of the Malfoys. They landed in the little receiving clearing, and before Severus had time to think, a house elf was there giving them a Portkey, and the next thing Severus knew, he was in the foyer, one of the grandest places he had ever been.
Of course, he revealed none of his surprise or anxiety, and Saloma looked at him curiously.
"Sir and Miss must follow Mandy," Severus heard to his right. A tiny house elf was there, bouncing from one foot to the other. "Masters are waiting for dinner."
She led them away up a staircase, through a couple doors, and then they were in a small dining room. The two Malfoy men sat at the end of the table, the older one at the head and his son at his right. They both stood up when Severus and Saloma entered.
"Sir Severus Snape, and Miss Saloma Yaxley," the house elf announced.
Severus and Saloma filed down the right side of the table, and remained standing through the formalities.
"Abraxas Malfoy," the older man introduced himself to Severus. "And my son, Lucius Malfoy."
"Severus Snape," Severus replied. He took his wand out and held it in front of him, waiting for Abraxas to respond.
Abraxas just quirked an eyebrow. "You are not a pureblood."
"No, sir," Severus replied unabashedly. "But I would like to observe pureblood customs while in the home of one."
Abraxas' eyes revealed the smallest hint of satisfaction. He took his wand out as well, and touched it to the tip of Severus'. Their wands glowed an ivory white, and warmth soaked down from the tip into their hands.
Severus turned his wand toward Lucius, who had not taken his out. Lucius narrowed his eyes.
"I don't believe this is orthodox," he said silkily.
"Lucius, take out your wand. Now," Abraxas said, softly but firmly. Lucius colored a small bit, but did as he was told.
After their wands greeted one another, and they had all finally taken their seats, the house elves began circulating wine and other beverages.
"Severus," Abraxas began, after taking a small sip of his drink. He stared directly into Severus' eyes. "The Dark Lord brags about you to all of his followers. Not by name, of course. But most of us know who you are."
"Through gossip, you know," Lucius supplied.
"Death Eaters do not gossip, Lucius," Abraxas said, not taking his eyes away from Severus' face. Abraxas took another drink out of his glass before continuing. "You're quite the notorious brewer."
Severus said nothing. The house elves served the first course of food.
"I'm just curious. What would a half-blood such as yourself, a brilliant half-blood no doubt, gain from joining the Dark Lord's ranks?"
Severus stared straight into Abraxas' light gray eyes. He didn't blink once.
"Sir, I will never apologize for being a half-blood. It is true that my father is a muggle. I, however, do not consider myself his son in any sense of the word. In my opinion, I am fatherless. My mother fills my life with all I will ever need, and in addition to this, she has implanted in my mind the hungry thirst for knowledge."
"Knowledge is power," Abraxas agreed, nodding ever so slightly.
"Knowledge is all that I crave," Severus explained simply.
"There will be other duties required of you," Abraxas continued. He broke eye contact with Severus finally, and turned to his steaming bowl of soup. "You're aware of this, correct? It isn't all just research and subsequent brewing. I know the last year as been quite easy for you, in this respect. But after tonight, you will be expected to do much more for your community, and for your fellow brothers."
"I'm quite cognizant of all this, sir," Severus replied. "I've been an active member of the USDL for several years now, and—"
"That organization," Abraxas interrupted, shaking his head a fraction. The tiniest trace of disdain crept into his voice. "Yes, it explains the infrastructure of the Dark Lord's ideas, the entire fantastic way his followers are organized by rank, experience, expectation, dedication. It details and informs its students of the ideologies they must be aware of. It stresses the immense importance of discretion, secrecy, the ability to lie, mislead, manipulate under any circumstance. But does it really, truly teach you what it is to stand in the Dark Lord's presence? To feel his power? To breathe the same air he breathes?"
Severus knew a rhetorical question when asked one.
"It doesn't. You can never be prepared to meet the Dark Lord for the first time. His presence is stronger, more commanding, more demanding than anything you can ever imagine ten-fold. And this is the most important thing to remember. You will never, ever deserve to be kept in his company. None of us are, nor will we ever be. You must remember this, and humble yourself to it. And be infinitely grateful that the Dark Lord suffers your half-wit and intolerable self. I remember this, and am grateful for it every nanosecond of my waking life."
Severus said nothing in response to Abraxas' speech. Instead, he ate his soup delicately. It was quite delicious, as were the courses that followed.
And finally, dinner was over, and they did not have to wait long before Saloma, Lucius and Abraxas received their call. It was quite interesting to watch as their eyes rolled into the backs of their heads. Severus wondered if the Dark Lord somehow transported an image of his location in this way.
They all stood up then, and before Severus had time to gather his guts, Saloma was wrenching his arm away into another world.
They landed stolidly on their feet. It was completely pitch black, cold, moist and drippy, but Severus knew he was inside. Maybe in a dungeon somewhere.
Lucius flared his wand up, and Abraxas led the way through stonewalled tunnels, a labyrinth of dark corridors. Every so often, they would pass a cell in which a prisoner sat hunched over a bench, or perhaps they were chained to the wall, or hung from the ceiling. In addition to these paradigms of torture and suffering, a cry of anguished terror could be heard every three or four minutes echoing through the labyrinth. The cry came from everywhere: behind them, in front of them, to their left, right, above, below them. And it scorched Severus to the bone.
Finally, just when Severus was starting to wonder if Abraxas really, truly knew where he was going, they came to a heavy dungeon door. Abraxas spoke in cryptic, jumbled and archaic Latin for about a minute, and then held his wand up. The end of it had molded into a perfect skeleton key, and he fit it snugly into the keyhole in the door. It creaked something awful, and Abraxas pushed the door open with his shoulder. Lucius ushered Saloma and Severus in.
A faceless servant immediately approached them, and demanded their wands. Severus reluctantly forfeited his. The servant also took their cloaks from them. Severus felt disconcerted by the servant's lack of facial features. A pale expanse of skin was stretched over the cheekbones and cartilage of the nose. It was as if the Dark Lord had taken a huge eraser and merely banished all trace of humanity from his help.
The servant left them then, and Abraxas led the way into a chamber off to the right of the room. Before Severus had time to gather his wits about him, he came face-to-face with the Dark Lord, who was sitting in an elaborate throne-like chair on a raised dais.
He was immediately assaulted with Legilimency, and he bared all of his thoughts for the Dark Lord. He allowed him into every crevice of his mind, for after all, he had nothing to hide. The Dark Lord wrung his brain out like a wet rag, and finally satisfied, turned away to observe the rest of their entourage.
"Yaxley, what are you doing here?" he barked. "Did I give you permission to come tonight?"
"My Lord, Severus didn't know the way to Malfoy Manor," Saloma explained desperately.
"Silence!" the Dark Lord bellowed.
Saloma fell to her knees.
"Abraxas," the Dark Lord. "I thought I explained to you that I wanted this meeting to be exclusive. That means no one else except those I personally invite." He said this with such venom Severus was surprised his neck didn't elongate into an adder's.
"My Lord, my deepest apologies," Abraxas began. He bowed his head down. "Lucius assured me that Saloma had gotten written permission from you."
"Lies!" the Dark Lord bellowed again. "And complete and utter insolence! Lucius, are you able to discern a lie from the truth?"
"Yes, my Lord—"
"It certainly doesn't seem like it," the Dark Lord interrupted. "Take this worthless girl from my presence and punish her for her disobedience. Use the empty cell down the hall from here."
"Of course, my Lord," Lucius replied, bowing his head slightly. He wrenched Saloma to her feet, and Severus caught a quick glimpse of her face. What he thought he would see was terror and anticipation for what was to come. Instead, he saw the smallest smile of satisfaction. Sadistic desire had darkened her eyes from the white-blue they usually were to opaque iron.
When they had gone, the Dark Lord sighed heavily, as if the entire world rested on his shoulders, and all his followers could do was disobey him. He leaned an elbow on an arm of his chair, and rested his face disconsolately in his hand.
"Bring the initiate closer, Abraxas," he said into his hand.
"Yes, my Lord." Abraxas touched Severus' arm gently, and guided him towards the dais.
"Abraxas, go and wait with Wilkes and Yaxley in the other room," the Dark Lord continued. "I wish to speak with Severus alone for the time being."
"Of course, my Lord." Abraxas bowed, and backed out of the room.
Severus stood absolutely still, and waited for the Dark Lord to speak. His clothing was itching him, and his shoes were too tight on his feet, and he was beginning to feel all-around quite uncomfortable, but he didn't dare move. The Dark Lord remained in his hunched over position for quite some time, until he finally lifted his head out of his hand. His eyes were closed, and he raised his head up towards the ceiling. The smell emanating off the Dark Lord was intoxicating, all raw power and ancient magic and terrifying condescension. But Severus did not feel afraid. In fact, he wondered if the Dark Lord could ever instill fear in him. He was dubious.
Finally, the Dark Lord tilted his head back down and opened his eyes. They bored directly into Severus' own. They were cat-like and awful and glorious and fearful and shiny.
"Don't ever lie to me," he said simply and slowly.
Severus shook and nodded his head at the same time, so it looked almost like he was stretching a crick in his neck. The Dark Lord stood up and busied himself with his robes. He slicked his hands back over his head, as if he was smoothing hair back, but he was quite bald, so the action looked kind of odd. He stepped down off the dais, and the way his long black robes moved around him reminded Severus suddenly of the way a monk's robes flow and cascade around the body. And he proceeded towards the main room without a word.
Severus followed him, not too closely, and he saw that Abraxas was waiting there, as well as Gregory Yaxley, Saloma's father, and Malcolm Wilkes. They were dressed crisply in their robes and masks, and Severus felt a surge of pride.
The Dark Lord motioned with one of his hands where Severus should stand, and then he approached one of his faceless servants, who was standing still, holding a thin, silver tray with one heavy glass in the middle. It was filled with translucent and vapory-liquid that swarmed around and licked the lip of the glass.
The Dark Lord plucked the glass off the tray, and the servant stepped back against the wall. The Dark Lord turned towards Severus, his expression vacant. He began to quote a well-rehearsed recitation.
"I developed this potion when I first started building my army. It's a compilation of different tests, and if you survive the digestion of this potion, then it's obvious you're strong and loyal enough to serve me. At the time of full digestion of this potion, which is at the end of the next twenty-four hours, the Dark Mark will be branded onto your arm. If you fail, you'll be dead, and no witch or wizard will ever be able to determine the cause of death. Please step forward."
Severus stepped stolidly forward, all the while occluding. He was beginning to doubt the sanity of the man standing before him, and these thoughts were developing in his mind when he was interrupted by a quivering voice from behind the Dark Lord.
"My Lord, are you aware of his liaisons with a mudblood?"
Severus cringed and shut his eyes, expecting retribution.
"That is your Lord's business, Wilkes. No one else's. How dare you speak out of turn."
"I'm terribly sorry, my Lord," Wilkes replied, bowing his head down. "I just thought you should be aware—"
"You think I can't figure these things out for myself?" The Dark Lord suddenly bellowed. The glass he was holding in his hand crashed to the floor, and the vapory-liquid flowed into the cracks of the stone floor like mercury. "All of you fools think I can't figure out anything, do you?" And without warning, he cast Crucio on all three of his followers. Severus swallowed a bit of his tongue. All the while, the Dark Lord muttered horribly under his breath, and Severus began to feel waves of hot air cascading over his body. It didn't take long for him to realize the Dark Lord was emanating those heat waves of anger.
Finally, he turned away from the three men, and the curse fell off them. He waved a hand at the floor, and the glass and liquid disappeared, and then he waved a hand at his faceless servant. Before Severus could blink, the servant was presenting the tray to the Dark Lord, another heavy glass tumbler on it with more of the same potion, and in turn, the Dark Lord was presenting that same tumbler to Severus.
"Drink, child."
And Severus drank.
Monday, January 10, 1977
11 p.m.
Severus sat upright in his curtained bed, exhausted and sweaty and hungry from the battle his body had endured for the last 24 hours. And he stared down at his pale forearms. His left was swollen and sore and inked into it was his tattoo.
He thought it quite beautiful and painful to look at.
And underneath all that he was thinking, the smallest seed of doubt blossomed.
A/N: Comments welcome. Please review, and thanks to the several reviews I got last time. Thank you to my beta reader, MRSSPICY.