Phœnix Burning, Chapter 20
AN: I just couldn't resist having Sevvie taunt the Dark Lord after everything he's been through! Also, check out my poll. It's going down soon...
As Severus was summarily thrown into a call in Riddle Manor, all he could think was that he was so moronic for not watching his back. After all this, he was a prisoner. Not because he'd been outed as a spy, rather, because he had simply let down his guard. It was humiliating!
Severus stewed in sullen silence, cheek pressed against the stone floor and bonds chaffing at his wrists, waiting in the darkness.
He later would not be able to tell how long he lay there, wondering in tense silence when his death would be pronounced.
Some time later, perhaps a few minutes, or a few hours, he was roughly dragged to his feet by a masked Death Eater, not one that he recognized, and was led up through the tortuous passages that connected the dungeons from the remainder of the manor, and dragged into the meeting room, in the center of a gathering, bound and under guard. Around him, hostility or concern glinting through the eye-holes in bone white masks stood other Death Eaters he had known in better days: a lock of distinctive silver-blond hair denoted Lucius Malfoy, and he could see Bellatrix fingering her new wand. He knew that there was a vicious smile concealed behind that mask... It was with satisfaction, however, that he noticed Walden Mcnair had his throat bandaged, dark red fluid leaking from under it slowly. Severus had never taught the Death Eaters the counter to his favourite spell.
"Ssso."
Severus could not help tensing as the Dark Lord began to speak.
"I have called you here today to congratulate you on a job well done: Scrimgeour is well on his way to being out of office. I also, as you might notice, have a secondary reason for calling you. Alecto Carrow has caught a traitor."
Murmers. Severus shifted his weight, absently tugging at his bonds, mind working furiously behind his occlumency shields. He was not going to die here if he could help it.
"...one who I once thought my most loyal," the Dark Lord was saying. That was a lie. He had suspected him ever since he was a scrawny seventeen year old boy, tugging up his sleeve so that he could be Marked. "I give you permission to be as vicious as you want, provided you do not kill him."
The Death Eater standing guard over Severus yanked him roughly, bringing him to his knees. And then they were upon him.
The sport of Death Eaters is too unpleasant to be described. Curses, potions, poison, physical assault, Severus withstood it all, a strange unnatural calmness sweeping over him as it all transpired. There was something almost liberating about not being forced to pretend to partake in the baiting. Agony tore through every fiber of his being, but long bouts of the crucitus under the Dark Lord had hardened him to pain, and the Mauraders had taught him to suffer humiliation in silence. And somehow, perhaps because of the shock, it didn't hurt as much as was usual. And then, at last, when golden stars were exploding in his vision and his knees were too weak to hold him, the Dark Lord called his followers off.
"This, then, is what happens to traitors," he hissed, red eyes glowing unpleasantly. "You will be back with your dear mudblood soon now."
"Poor baby," chipped in Bellatrix, laughing insanely. "You think Dumbledore's gonna save you, don't you. Or perhaps you think you could convince us to let you go?"
"Maybe Dumbledore will send his phœnix to spirit you away." That was Avery.
"Oh, wait, he only does that for Gryffindors!" Bellatrix was pacing, almost licking her lips. "Do you think he even noticed you were gone?"
Severus flinched, trying not to think about that particular possibility. Bellatrix seemed to know she had struck a chord. "Do you think he even cares?" she went on viciously.
It was the Dark Lord who at last quieted her. "Come now, enough. I know you're having fun, but it mustn't take the entire night. After all, there's more on the agenda. Draco, come forward."
Draco took a hesitant step closer, shivering visibly as the Dark Lord hissed not to be afraid.
"I wish to honor you with my Mark," he began, and Severus shuddered as a chill passed over him. A Marking ceremony always meant a death. "But you must first prove yourself."
Severus could predict the next words as though he had said them himself. "Kill Severus Snape."
Draco's nervous grey eyes went wide. Slowly, as if in a dream, he drew his wand, fingering it uncertainly, rolling it in his fingers.
So this is it then, Severus thought, letting his eyes slide shut. Not because he was afraid to meet his death, but because he didn't want to see his godson kill for the first time, to lose that last fragment of innocence that Severus had fought to preserve. The silence stretched out.
"Any last words?" Voldemort hissed mockingly, red eyes, like embers, glittering with anticipation. "Going to cry, Severus? Or beg? I'll make it quicker if you beg..."
Severus knew he couldn't escape; and he was determined not to break. At this point he was fairly in shock. "Go to Hell, Tom."
Voldemort was shocked into silence for approximately a minute, nostrils flaring and slit-like red eyes blazing. Then he screamed in wordless fury. Then, sobering a little, he raised his wand. Severus refused to flinch. "Crucio!"
Severus started, his whole body spasming. Not, however, because of the pain. Because there was no pain.
{AN: if I were evil, I would leave it there. I am not, however, so enjoy the next bit}
Severus hadn't thought anything could surprise him more than the ritual. That was, however, before he discovered that he was somehow amune to one of the darkest spells created. To be sure, he still felt the fierceness of the magic bubbling under his skin, but there was no pain. Not at all. Severus's eyes widened. All of a sudden, the utter surreallity of the situation struck him, and an almost unhinged smile twisted lips unaccustomed to humor. Several of the Death Eaters looked distinctly unnerved.
"Was that supposed to hurt?" Severus drawled, cocky as a Gryffindor with his impending death. After all, he would never get the chance to blatantly taunt Lord Voldemort again. At least not in this life.
Voldemort nearly dropped his wand; Severus would almost have been amused if he were not preoccupied with the blood rushing in his ears. "KILL HIM!" he roared at last.
Severus smirked into his livid face. The smirk quickly died away as he saw Draco Malfoy approach him, as if in a dream. He raised his wand, fingers shaking ever so slightly as his father looked on in concern and the other Death Eaters in vague regret or anticipation. Severus closed his eyes, wishing the boy would just get on with it, just end him. He opened one eye as Draco began to say the fatal words. "Avada K-" he broke off, lowering the wand. "I can't!"
There was sudden silence, and Severus knew that the foolish boy had signed his death warrant in that instant. "Crucio!" Voldemort hissed, and Draco collapsed screaming. Severus managed to muster the energy to draw himself to his knees, but not nearly enough to help him. He could only watch as Draco writhed, as Voldemort rolled his wand between his fingers, as Lucius Malfoy stood by, a look of agony on his face. The coward! As if it hurt him to watch as much as it hurt Draco to be under the spell.
"I trust you have learned your lesson?" said Voldemort coldly.
"Yes! Yes I have!"
Severus would have face-palmed if he had had the energy. The boy was digging his grave every word he spoke. "Tom," he began, hoping to distract Voldemort, but though the monster's nostrils flared, he did not look away from his newest toy.
"I've learned I don't ever want to be a murderer, no matter what you do!" Draco went on defiantly. "I've learned that I don't want to grovel- least of all to you! I-"
He was cut short as Voldemort snarled the crucitus again. This time Lucius Malfoy seemed to fight an internal battle with himself, and lose. And the elder Malfoy flung himself protectively over the body of his son.
It was at that moment that he heard it. It was faint, ever so faint at first, just the hint of something just beyond his grasp. Ever so slowly it grew clearer...
It was music. Spine-tingling, glorious, unearthly music. Music that brought with it a hint of honey and palm wine and papyrus in bloom, that made his heart (contrary to popular belief, he did possess such an organ) seem to swell uncomfortably in his breast and a lump to find itself in his throat. It sounded like Fawkes, but lower and more melancholy, which could only mean-
A rustle of feathers interrupted his thoughts. Potter's mind was not so clear when he was in his animagus form, but he distinctly felt worry, disgust for the situation, and concern for Draco, together with the permanent sense of "I'm flying" that always swept over him when he was in the air. Severus had never felt so grateful- or so angry- with the boy.
And then the phœnix landed heavily and somewhat ungainly on his shoulder, gripping it with sharp black talons and flapping his wings as he tried to get a grip on the silk. One wind idly hit him in the head as Harry settled. Severus, being in shock, couldn't find it within him to care.
Harry screeched triumphantly, nearly deafening him, and as Severus grabbed a full handful of both Draco and Lucius's robes. His last thought before he lost consciousness in a storm of electric blue was that the look on Voldemort's snake-like face was definitely going to be a patronus memory for him.
