Chapter twenty-two: Land's End

Harry stared out through the flimsy lace curtain in the kitchen. A stark wind blew from the southeast. He watched the waves crash in on the shore below.

The cottage was small and sparsely decorated, with a kitchen, a lounge, and two bedrooms. Apparently, his grandmother had a knack for crocheting because there were tablecloths, doilies, and pillows everywhere. Even the curtains seemed homemade. Normally, Harry would have absorbed any information about his family like a starving man, but just then he couldn't bring himself to care.

Hermione had been productive settling them in and had even visited Penzance to get supplies and a muggle newspaper. Although she tried to make the place homely by tidying some of the spider webs and lighting candles, the atmosphere was grim. Ron sat on the sofa in the lounge, brooding over the loss of his wand. Harry hadn't said a word in hours.

He felt Hermione watch him from the door.

"Oh, Harry." She sat opposite him, pushing a cup of tea across the table.

"I wish I could take it all back." He hung his head, not really knowing what he wanted apart from a second chance. "I wish…"

"You wish you could take what back, Harry?" Hermione reached over to take his hand.

"Everything. All the mean stuff I said to him. I wish none of this ever happened."

"Professor Snape forgave you." Hermione squeezed him lightly. "He might not have trusted you fully yet and perhaps he doesn't have the words to express it. But I saw it, Harry. He loves you."

"I don't deserve it." Harry fought against the lump in his throat. A part of him wanted to scream and rage while the other just wanted to lay down and die. He regretted going to Hogwarts. They found a horcrux there, sure, but what was the point? Snape was gone. Everyone kept dying around him anyway so what was the use in going on?

"Don't you think Professor Snape knows a thing or two about being undeserving?" Hermione watched him. "He knew the risk, Harry. He wants us to move on. He saved us so that we can go on and finish this task."

"Move on to what? More deaths?" Harry jerked his hand back. It felt like he was suffocating. "I wanted to hurt him, Hermione. I wanted him to die. I hated him." He buried his head in his hands. "Who am I?"

"No, Harry." Hermione took his hand back. "That, all of that, it wasn't you. It was never you, it was him. All that time. Tom Riddle."

Harry wiped at his eyes with his free hand. They sat silently for a time, listening to Ron's muttered attempts at wandless magic. They seemed to be failing, just like everything else.

"What do you think they're doing to him?"

"Harry, I don't think you should–"

"No," he said softly. "It's okay. I need to know. What do you think?"

"Well…" Hermione looked out the window. "Malfoy brought him to You-Know-Who, that seems obvious. And then–" She huffed. "Harry I really don't think there's any point–"

"They tortured him. You can say it. Do you think he's dead?"

"Harry, how am I supposed to know? What do you want me to say?" Hermione threw her arms wide. "Yes," she said bleakly. "I think they tortured him. I think they're trying to gain what information they can from him. But he isn't going to give it to them."

"No," said Harry. "Because he can't. The spell would kill him first."

"Yes. It would kill him first." Hermione sighed. "And perhaps that's for the best." Her eyes softened. "Think about it, Harry. I know what I would choose. At least he has some control that way."

Harry looked away. "Yes," he whispered. "I suppose he does."

They sat there for a long time. It was silent except for the distant rushing of the sea. Harry looked out again towards the shore, Snape's favourite place on Earth. Back in Godric's Hollow he had wanted nothing more than for Snape to take him here. They could have walked the rocky cliffs. Thrown small stones into the water. Maybe even stayed for a while.

But everything was different now.

"Can we talk about something else?" asked Hermione in the end. Her voice was soft. "Anything. You'll break yourself with this."

Harry jerked his head.

"I put protective spells around the cottage," she said. "Disillusionment, intruder charm, muffliato, muggle-repelling charm, salvio hexia, protego." She ticked off her fingers. "Is there anything I've forgotten?"

"Aren't you being overly cautious?" asked Ron. He stood in the doorway, watching them. "I mean, we're in the middle of nowhere, aren't we? This place seems muggle through and through."

"Is it even possible to trace a portkey?" Harry glanced at Hermione.

"Not that I know." She bit her lip. "But we can't be too careful. By the way Ron, I think you should have the sword."

Ron frowned. "Because I lost my wand?" He scoffed. "I'm sure it'll be a great help against an unforgiveable. We don't even know what to do next."

"Don't be like that. There wasn't much you could have done." Hermione smiled weakly. "But you're no liar, Ron, I'll give you that. 'No friend of mine' indeed."

"Yeah, well." Ron's face went a light purple shade. He sat at the table and then seemed to remember something. "Oh, there's this as well." He rummaged through his pocket and brought out a huge yellow fang.

"You found the basilisk." Hermione arched her eyebrows. "That's a start."

"Snape has the other." Ron snorted, placing the tooth on the table between them. "I think he was afraid of it," he said with a twitch of his lips. "He kept asking me if Harry really killed that thing. All on his own and at that age." He chuckled at Harry. "I didn't have the heart to tell him you were bitten."

Hermione laughed softly, but Harry had to blink hard. It was the kind of thing he would have liked to share with Snape. If only to see his expression. Or perhaps to receive his concern. But there was no way for that to happen now. His hope for a family of his own was probably bleeding out in a cellar somewhere, cold and lost.

"Is there nothing we can do for him?" asked Ron quietly. He must have guessed what Harry was thinking. "I mean, we owe him an attempt at least, don't we? Hermione?"

"I don't even know what to do next." Hermione leaned her head against the wall. "We have to get to Nagini somehow, but it all seems impossible."

"Do you think we could call for Kreacher or Dobby?" Harry looked between them. "Maybe they can find out where he's at? Maybe I could go with them. Nagini will be there and You-Know-Who as well. I'm supposed to defeat them in any case. Aren't I? The prophecy says so."

"Alone?" Ron squeezed his eyes shut. "Harry, you're delusional. They'll kill you on the spot. I can't go either, not without a wand and there's no way I'm sending Hermione. Snape would think we were spitting on his memory. Wasting our lives like that."

"Ron's right, you know." Hermione sighed.

"Yes I am." Ron clenched his jaw. "Harry you can't. Snape might be dead already and it'll all be a waste. There has to be another way."

"I wish we could know somehow..." Harry picked on the tablecloth.

Hermione looked thoughtful. "Harry," she said slowly, as though she was apprehensive of voicing her mind. "Do you remember back at the Burrow? When we didn't know if Professor Snape was on our side or not and wanted to find out whether the slavery spell was still working?"

"Yeah…" Harry felt his cheeks heat. That particular moment was among several he did not care to recall. He had been trying not to.

"You searched him out then. You could tell somehow that he was alive. Do you think you could do that again?"

"I guess so. Yeah." He was afraid to try though. Afraid the bond would be dead and still.

"You don't have to do it," said Hermione quickly. "It's just that it reminds me of something." She straightened. "Something I read in that book we found in the restricted section of the library."

"Yeah?" Ron nodded, urging her on. "What was it?"

Hermione frowned. "I mean, it might be dangerous. Especially if he is chained or bound to something." She looked up. "But that book, it says a slave must heed his master's call."

"What do you mean?" Ron made a face of confusion. "Of course they have to. But it's not like Snape wouldn't come here if he could, now is it? He can't just apparate away. He doesn't even have his wand."

"I don't think it matters." She looked at Harry. "You should just call him, Harry. If he's alive, he'll come. He won't need his wand. The spell will make sure of it."

Something inside him thawed and trickled away. Harry could have kissed her. Maybe there was sense and justice in the world after all. Maybe he was granted this final hope.

"Hermione," he said, elated, "you're a genius and I love you."

~o~

Lucius brought him to the family manor, where the Dark Lord was apparently waiting. He was high strung and jittery, but Severus took his time despite the wand that dug into his back. He knew he was unlikely to walk out again.

There were but a few people in the drawing room. The Dark Lord sat at the high end of the long, ornate table. To his left was Bellatrix and Narcissa, to his right Wormtail and Draco. They all stood when Lucius opened the double doors.

"At last," the Dark Lord said. "Lucius, you kept us waiting." He glanced at Severus. "What is all this about?"

"My Lord." Lucius bowed deep. "I brought a gift for you." He pushed Severus ahead.

The Dark Lord gave him a cold glance. "I have no use for that," he said. "Severus is already mine." His eyes met Severus' own. "Aren't you?"

The Legilimecy failed, as it had to. Severus felt the slavery spell take hold. Usually he would have attempted deception, but even that could not help him this time. Because his fate was sealed by Ninky.

The Dark Lord might as well have attempted to penetrate a rock. Irritated, he tore free. "What is this?" He drew his wand. "Lucius?"

"My Lord." Lucius' voice shook. "Take a look at his neck." He grasped Severus by the hair and pulled his head back. From the corner of his eye, Severus saw Narcissa grasp Draco by the arm. Everyone seemed to collectively hold their breath.

The Dark Lord crept closer, staring at the golden chain. He circled Severus once. Then he smiled to himself. "Lucius," he said quietly, "I daresay you have outdone yourself."

Lucius bowed again. "I live only to serve, my Lord." He glanced at Narcissa.

"Well, well. So you're a turncoat after all." The Dark Lord used his wand to push some of Severus' hair aside. "I assume this is Dumbledore's doing?" He looked at Lucius.

"I have no idea, my Lord." Lucius wrung his hands. "But that seems likely."

Severus sighed. There was no point denying the obvious. "Yes it was," he said, noticing from the corner of his eye that Nagini lay behind the Dark Lord's chair. She seemed encased in some sort of protective sphere. It glimmered in the light from the fireplace.

"This is…interesting." The Dark Lord held out his hand, barely not touching, as though trying to absorb the secrets of the chain. "I wonder what would happen if…" He trailed off deep in thought, entirely too curious for Severus' comfort.

He looked away, meeting Draco's crestfallen eyes. He was thinner than when last Severus saw him, when he lay crumpled on the ground from the Dark Lord's wrath. They were both helpless in this mess. Severus gave him half a smile, but he did not return it.

The Dark Lord turned to follow Severus' gaze. "Come," he commanded the ones still standing by the table. "Behold this: A historical moment. We must be among the first in centuries to lay our eyes on such a thing."

They did as told. Wormtail frowned, shifty-eyed. Bellatrix leered eagerly and Narcissa was deathly pale. Draco looked anywhere but at the Dark Lord.

The Dark Lord grasped the boy. "See, Draco," he said softly. "Do you know what this is?"

Draco shook his head. His eyes were wide as he peered at Severus' throat. "No, my Lord." He swallowed. "I don't…"

"Very few do. This spell is not used by wizards of our time." The Dark Lord straightened to address them all. "This," he said, "is the mark of the enslaved."

Wormtail gaped, horrified. "I didn't know that was possible," he whispered. "Dumbledore you say?"

"Oh, but it is." The Dark Lord smiled. It was a chilling sight. "It requires powerful wizard to do so, but not extraordinary. I am beginning to think I have been modest."

Severus saw Narcissa exchange a look with Lucius. Wormtail put a hand over his Dark Mark.

"Kill him then," said Bellatrix. She looked at Severus with pity. "They can force his will, surely. I assume the Potter spawn is the master?"

"Who else," said the Dark Lord. "No, Bella. I have other plans. Lucius has indeed brought us a gift. And I shall not squander it."

"But you said he was a traitor," stuttered Wormtail. "How can that be if Dumbledore did…this?"

"Oh, Wormtail," said the Dark Lord with deceptive calm, "I do not keep you for your keen mind, as you have just reminded us. Do you really think Dumbledore would cast this spell on an unwilling target?"

He turned to Severus and there was a dangerous glint in his eye. "Am I right?" he asked. "For how long?"

"Months," replied Severus and the Dark Lord laughed.

He wished they would just get on with it. Waiting like this was unbearable. He knew they would torture him for information on Potter before disposing of him. But he also knew that the spell would not allow it. Unless Potter called him back, which he did not seem inclined to, he was gone.

But then he caught Draco's eye again and something shifted in his heart. It wouldn't take long to break a man with magic. And so he should make the best of what little time remained. Because surely, the Dark Lord would make the poor boy join. Severus recalled the Headmaster's words to him the night he fell.

Could he kill two birds with one stone? He would pay, but it seemed a small price for a soul.

While the Dark Lord explained Dumbledore's mentality to Wormtail, Severus shifted closer to Draco.

"Hide, Draco," he said gently and took his wand. "You won't need this." It was almost too easy. For a heartbeat, the boy watched him with startled eyes.

Then Wormtail called out in alarm, but Severus was prepared. He pushed Draco aside. "Confringo!"

The flash of light blinded him and his ears rang from the blast. He tasted metal. Covered his head instinctively when something collided with his side. For a moment, he couldn't get enough air.

Some time passed that he could not account for. Then someone coughed. The sound seemed to come from far away. The explosion had been powerful – more than he could usually achieve. Perhaps there was a chance after all?

Severus blinked dirt from his eyes and turned his head. The entire end of the room had caved in. He still couldn't hear properly, but he could tell he lay next to Bellatrix, who stirred and shook her head. Splinters and debris were everywhere. The Dark Lord sat somewhere to his left.

With measured movements, Severus shifted to reach into his pocket. He grasped the basilisk fang hard. He would only have this chance.

But then the dust settled and all his hopes crumpled and died. Because there, in the centre of the blast zone, was the shimmering white sphere. It was whole and unscathed, without a single dent. Nagini slithered on the inside. She hissed, as though laughing at his failure.

Severus closed his eyes so that he did not have to see it when the Dark Lord picked up his wand.

~o~

"What do I do?" Harry looked at Hermione. But she merely shook her head.

"How would I know, Harry? I assume you say his name or something."

"He has to give him an order, doesn't he?" Ron frowned. "You should tell him what to do, Harry. Say he has to come here."

"Snape," said Harry. It was strange to speak into empty space. His voice sounded foreign and it shook a bit. "Severus, come here – please."

Nothing happened. They looked around the quiet room. It was night out now and their shadows were long against the walls. Hermione's candles flickered.

"It isn't working," said Ron. "Perhaps you could be a bit more…assertive?"

Hermione smiled weakly at him. "I know it must be hard, Harry," she said. "After all that's happened. But Ron's probably right."

Harry didn't want to command anyone anymore, especially not Snape. He clenched his hands, trying to remember how he related to Dobby and Kreacher. That was a lot easier. They did not have the history he had with Snape, had not experienced him at his lowest. He wished he could erase from his life everything that happened after Dumbledore's death.

But then something made him look outside. A premonition perhaps. Or some sort of instinct. He squinted against the light that reflected in the windowpane, thinking he was imagining things.

But no. There, just beyond the picket fence, a shape had emerged from the darkness. It stood there for a moment, seeming held up by invisible strings. Then it fell to the ground like a ragdoll, as though the handler abruptly let go.

"There!" Harry toppled his chair over in the rush to get out. "It's him, it worked!"

They burst out the door and sprinted across the lawn. Snape was just outside the protective enchantments Hermione put in place. He was so still he looked dead.

"No!" Harry landed on his knees next to him. There were no wounds or broken bones, but it was clear that he was not okay. "No…" His voice broke. "Hermione? Is there a spell or something? Anything?"

She leaned down to feel Snape's pulse. She shook her head. "I'm sorry, Harry," she said in a small voice. "I don't–."

"There has to be something we can do." Harry knew he sounded desperate, but didn't care. "Anything. There has to be."

Hermione drew her wand and aimed it at Snape's chest. "Rennervate."

Harry watched her try again. He took Snape's hand, which lay limply on the ground. It was cold as ice.

"What did they do to him?" Ron dropped to the ground next to Harry. "Hermione? Can you tell?"

"I don't know everything, Ron," she snapped. "You try." She thrust her wand at him.

Ron caught it. "Episkey," he attempted. "Hermione, I don't know any spells! Reparo…Reparifors!"

Snape's eyes were dull and sightless. His lips were parted slightly. A bit of blood stained his usually yellow teeth a dark red. Like many things about Snape they weren't pretty. They were chipped and uneven and there was a crooked hole from where he'd lost one acquiring the cup of Hufflepuff.

But they were familiar to Harry. They were Snape's, his Snape. The one who liked chocolate cake and loved the ocean even though he grew up inland and had a temper but reined it in around Harry because –

Snape was the bravest man he'd ever known. It was not the kind of bravery he treasured as a child when reading stories about conquerors and explorers. It was a silent, undemanding one. And he was skilled and clever and loyal and…Harry wished that Lily Evans had not chosen to marry a Potter all those years ago.

And he hoped Snape still wished it too, despite everything.

"He's gone, Harry." Hermione sniffed. "I'm so terribly sorry."

And then he was furious. How dared Snape do this to him? How dared Voldemort? White rage took hold and he punched Snape in the chest. "Wake up, you bastard," he yelled into the night. "Wake up! It isn't fair!"

He could have laughed –or cried– of the irony, because Snape would surely say that life was never fair. But instead the unthinkable happened.

Snape drew a shuddering breath.

"Harry!" Hermione leaned closer.

"I saw it." He grasped Snape by the shoulders, shaking him. "Snape? Live, damn you."

Whether it was the order that did it or something else entirely, Harry would never know. But Snape breathed again, and then again.

Hermione let out a quivering laugh. "We have to get him inside," she said, pressing her fingers against Snape's throat once more. "He's alive, but only barely."

"Help me, Harry." Ron moved to lift Snape by the arm, but Hermione stopped him with a harsh inhale.

"Harry," she whispered. Her voice trembled. "What is that?"

She leaned over and brushed some of Snape's shoulder length hair away. Harry had not noticed in his distress, but now his blood froze to ice in his veins. The Death Eaters had torn Snape's coat half open, leaving the chain on his neck bared. And it was joined by another.

Harry's was the golden one that Snape received upon becoming his slave. The new chain resembled that. But it was pitch black.