CHAPTER THIRTY—Payback
Author's Warning: Character Tortured by Magic
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Severus was halfway through a potion when his arm exploded with pain.
"Fuck," he growled as he doused the flame.
Based on how intense the burn was, the Dark Lord was angry.
He forewent the cloak and mask.
With a swift pace, he went straight to the Entrance Hall. Amycus was not around. Alecto bounced on her toes, arms crossed tightly. Students scrambled out of Severus's way.
He and Alecto hurried to the front gate.
"What is this about?" Severus asked her.
She would not meet his gaze. "I'm not sure."
Severus began to clear his mind.
Hermione sat in her favourite window in Gryffindor Tower. She missed having friends nearby, but the privacy of the Head Girl room meant she could leave her revisions strewn about with no fear of them getting lost or having someone peek at them.
She would rather die than leave her revisions in Severus's sitting room. Not after the first time he told her the Ancient Runes essay on the coffee table was 'contrived.'
Ron and Harry were in the midst of a chess match.
She couldn't bear to watch Ron's queen smash one of Harry's knights. She turned her face to the window—and saw two black-robed figures hurrying down the hill.
Oh, a date with Alecto, she griped. How romantic!
With a sniff, she pulled her book from her satchel and began to read.
Alecto and Severus Apparated to the Malfoy's lawn. No one else was around.
Alecto scurried to the door.
Severus flicked his hair from his face. Less people meant more focus on him.
He strode in after the witch. The foyer was empty as well.
Narcissa pointed Alecto up to Lucius's office. Narcissa stared Severus down. Upset. Afraid.
Fuck, he thought.
Pettigrew held the door open for Alecto. His beady eyes wouldn't focus on Severus's. His nose and mouth twitched. Severus entered Lucius's office as normal.
Lucius and Bellatrix flanked the Dark Lord, who sat in Lucius' wing backed armchair behind the desk. Alecto joined Amycus off to the side. She hid her shaking hands in her sleeves.
Nagini slithered before the desk, each circuit bringing her closer to Severus.
Severus closed the door behind him.
The Dark Lord twirled Lucius's wand between his fingers.
"Sseverus," he sighed. "Too many times this month I've heard…disappointing things from my servants."
"About, my lord?" He tamped down his panic.
"You," Bellatrix sneered.
Amycus smirked at Severus. Alecto looked torn between fear and faking calm.
"I apologize if I have not brewed your potions fast enough, my lord."
The Dark Lord waved his free hand. "No one doubts your potions. It is your loyalty."
Well, that's somewhat of a relief, he thought regarding the bungled potions in last week's delivery.
"I must admit, these years you've spent at Dumbledore's side do make me…wonder."
"Dumbledore and I have very…different ideas about how the world should look," Severus said.
The Dark Lord leaned out of his lordly sprawl. His red eyes rammed into Severus's brain, searching for any untruths or any damning memories.
The Dark Lord retreated, traced circles on Lucius's desk with his wand. Green sparks burned the wood.
"Amycusss."
"Yes, m'lord?"
"Does Alecto share your suspicions?"
Alecto remained calm. Amycus glared at her.
"No, my lord," she said. "I have not seen anything my brother has."
Amycus's hand sprang up to his forearm, where he kept his wand. Alecto flinched.
"Leave us, both of you," the Dark Lord spat.
Alecto all but sprinted out. Amycus picked up speed at the door, no doubt to lambast her for this betrayal.
Amycus bloody Carrow. If he became the cause of Severus's death—
"Crucio."
The Dark Lord didn't need to shout. He hated most everyone and didn't need to add any emphatic energy to the magic via his voice. His curse sounded like frost cracking over a window.
Severus fell to one knee, both arms crossed across his stomach lest his guts roil up out of his mouth.
The pain stopped. Since Severus could still form coherent thoughts, it had only been a few seconds.
"These constant accusations annoy me, Severuss."
"I—I apologize, my lord." He couldn't catch his breath.
"Why would everyone say these things if there is no grain of truth to it?"
Severus could not catch his breath. "I—am good—at my job, my lord."
"A little too good," Bellatrix accused.
He swung the hair out of his face. His back was stuck stiff. "I don't think this task is one I can take lightly."
"Enough," the Dark Lord snapped before Bellatrix could retort. "Or you'll be next."
The witch skittered backwards, head bowed low, hands timid around her wand. Lucius kept his gaze just to the left of Severus.
"Crucio!"
Severus didn't open his mouth when he screamed. The Dark Lord had not taken out any fury on Severus for at least a year.
Amycus would pay.
The needles under his fingernails and the cramp in each of his limbs and neck, and the blaring horns in his head paused.
"I know you are a clever man, Severuss," the Dark Lord said.
Severus lifted his face once more to find Nagini staring at him not a hand's-width away from his nose.
The Dark Lord rose from his chair. Bellatrix followed at his heels.
"But you are not cleverer than I am."
A steel vice clamped around Severus's entire body, squashed his lungs flat. Each vein caught fire. His blood boiled him from the inside out. Severus collapsed to his side but kept his head away from the floor lest he give himself a concussion with his convulsions.
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Hermione felt uneasy. Voldemort didn't often call his people for a meeting in broad daylight.
And those minions that lived at Hogwarts certainly didn't exit out the front gate in broad daylight unless it was an emergency.
Hermione turned her ear towards Colin's Potterwatch radio. It was a rehashing of how to ward your home against intruders.
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Severus pushed himself back onto his hands and knees. Each muscle screamed, the spasms burning through oxygen too fast for Severus to replace.
The Dark Lord towered over Severus. "I know what I heard, Severuss." He traced Lucius's wand with a bony finger. "You harangued Quirrell for doing exactly what I asked. Prevented him from doing his work to restore me."
"Had I known—it was you, and not—Quirrell, my lord," he panted, "we would have had that stone within the month."
"Easy excuses," Bellatrix spat out at him.
"You have always had a way with words, Severuss," the Dark Lord said. It was not a compliment, this time. "Crucio."
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The Carrow twins rounded the bend. Hermione put her thumb nail in her mouth. She bit down on the jagged edge.
"What's up, Mione?" Ron asked.
She nodded out the window. "Severus left with them but he's not with them now."
"Oh, he's Severus, is he?" Harry asked.
"Shut up. I'm not going to call him Professor after he caught me singing Spice Girls."
Ron didn't know what that meant. Harry had to hold his glasses onto his face so they wouldn't fall off when he doubled over in laughter.
"Yeah, I'd think that might be even weirder," Ron said when Harry stopped for breath.
Harry and Hermione each gave him wide eyes.
Ron shrugged. "It's weird. They're married. They could buy furniture together."
"Why wouldn't they just find furniture already in the castle?" Harry asked.
"Okay, that is not important," Hermione sighed.
Harry held up one finger and retreated up to his dorm. When he came back, he gave Hermione the Marauder's Map.
"That's all I can do, sorry."
Hermione felt tears prick her eyes. Harry and Ron may not like her husband, but they still wanted to help her.
"Thank you." She peered out the window again. "I know you don't like him."
"Do you?" Ron snorted.
She shrugged. "I like anyone better than Malfoy, or Crabbe, or any of the other Death Eaters who wanted to marry me."
"He should count himself lucky," Ron scolded. "Look at 'im! And he's got Hermione? He's never gonna get any better, promise you that."
Her face flushed.
Harry shrugged at her. "Yeah, you two both like…potions. And reading."
"Yes, and we both have skin and hair!" she laughed but with a bit of a scoff. "That's a very low-bar you've just set." Hermione dropped into an armchair and opened the Map.
Ron stood up to look out the window. "Hey, if I were him, I wouldn't wanna be seen hanging out with the Carrows either. Maybe he'll just come after them."
"If we didn't need DADA for the Aurory we definitely would not be in that class," Harry added. He retook his seat.
Hermione glanced at the window again.
Ron shook his head at her.
"I solemnly swear that I am up to no good," she told the Map.
Based on the amount of blood Severus spit out, the Dark Lord had laid into him for at least three hours.
He hoped the blood was because he had bitten off his tongue and was not because a vital organ had ruptured.
The Dark Lord had maneuvered Severus so he sat with his back against a wall at some point. Or maybe Lucius had done it. He could not recall.
The Cruciatus dissipated. Severus realized his eyes burned. Tears leaked down his face and front.
The snake coiled at his side like a puppy ready for sleep.
The Dark Lord looked down at Severus, wand pointed between his eyes. "I want to trust you again, Severusss. But you will first have to stop lying to me."
The Dark Lord planned to kill him this day.
Severus spit another line of blood onto the floor. The snake hissed when it plopped in front of her.
"I do have…a…confession, my lord," he rasped.
Bellatrix sprang to the Dark Lord's side. The Dark Lord raised his wand away from Severus's trembling body. Confusion spread over Lucius's face—Narcissa had always trusted Severus to the fullest.
"Oh?" the Dark Lord queried.
Severus rested his head against the wall so he could meet the malevolent, red eyes of his taskmaster. "I…I hate it…when you pronounce my name with too many S's."
Lucius drew in a sharp breath. Bellatrix's hands and jaw clenched with rage. Severus kept his mind secure even when the Dark Lord's prying Legilimens parsed out whether that was truly his darkest secret.
Severus waited for the blows to fall, but they never did. Instead, the Dark Lord chuckled.
Bellatrix stared at their leader. She backed away.
None of them had heard any…real laughter from the Dark Lord. Ever.
The chuckle turned into a full-fledged laugh, albeit a short, cold one. Lucius flinched but did not dare move.
Severus was now worried his death would be drawn out. He figured the insult would have earned him a quick throat slash.
"I have been torturing you for hours, and the only secret you have to reveal is that? Severus, you wretched man—you have always been my favourite." The Dark Lord extended his sickly-pale hand.
Severus, still disoriented and woozy, accepted, and let the Dark Lord pull him to his feet.
Bellatrix looked as stunned as Severus felt, if not more so.
"Severusss, you are my most loyal, and wittiest, servant." The monster clapped Severus on the back like they were chums.
Severus stumbled forward. The Dark Lord looked surprised, as if he had no idea Severus was in pain.
"Go home and rest, Severus. You have many a potion to brew for me tomorrow."
Severus nodded weakly. He had just told the Dark Lord that he hated his sibilant S's and lived to tell the tale. Severus had expected to die and decided he would die for doing something brash. Instead, the Dark Lord laughed.
He might faint.
No, he had to get the hell out of here. If he fainted here, he could not blame Bellatrix for killing him. At that point, it was her right to do so.
Pettigrew gawked at him as Severus limped down the hall.
A house-elf appeared before the front doors to open them. Severus didn't know if the house-elf trembled or if he was in the midst of a stroke.
Severus jerked out of his trance with a start—he was outside, his back against the front door. A black out just before a Disapparation—lovely.
Severus took five deep breaths. With each breath, he shoved something into the back of his mind. The snake's eyes lasering into his. The vomit bubbling in his esophagus. The copper taste on his tongue. The Dark Lord's laugh. Amycus's smug face.
With his mental barriers to mask the ache in each muscle, Severus Apparated to Hogwarts.
He imagined the winged boar, the column on the left. He appeared behind it.
With a quick glance to ensure he was alone, Severus retched onto the grass.
He wiped his sleeve across his mouth. Pain stabbed into his gums.
Severus took slow, deliberate steps up the long path. It was well and truly nighttime when he reached the front entrance, so no one would tell he had to rely on the stone bannister to ascend.
Fuck, he thought, exhausted. There was no way he could get the heavy front door open on his own.
Severus could not even lean against the bannister, not with each muscle in the midst of a spasm or a cramp.
The door creaked open. Severus put his hand on his wand but didn't draw.
On the other side, Hagrid paused, dark eyes wide. "Professor Snape, you alright?"
"Fine." He rasped like the Bloody Baron.
Hagrid shuffled backwards, his large arm holding the door open for Severus.
"Thank you." Severus strode purposely through the door, back straight, but each calf and leg screamed in pain.
"Yer welcome." Hagrid didn't believe him.
That didn't affect nor surprise Severus, much.
The slow pace hurt as much as the quick pace, so Severus didn't dawdle. The slope into the dungeons helped. The dim torchlight did not.
Severus finally made it to his office door.
He pressed his forehead to it. He may have fallen asleep.
He heard the door click from the inside. He startled and grabbed either side of the door frame.
One brown eye peeked out at him from the other side. She stood behind the door and opened it so no one else could see her.
Severus dragged himself inside.
"You were out there quite a w—"
He ignored her and walked to his quarters. He tried to act as if nothing was amiss. He didn't need her in his business.
More than she already was.
Of course, he would then struggle to hold the door handle to his bedroom, let alone turn it. Once he managed to swing open the door, he fell to both knees and vomited once more.
Hermione grabbed one of his shoulders before he could fall entirely to the floor.
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"Severus—Severus, what happened?"
No no no. No, you can't die on me. I will not let you!
Hermione tried to prop him against the doorframe, but he cringed in pain. She let him lean on her shoulder, canted a bit forward, so his back didn't touch anything.
He quivered.
"What happened?"
"Stop shouting," he murmured.
She hadn't been shouting. She remained quiet, though. He was heavy and the stone floor was unforgiving on her knees and ankles.
If Harry hadn't loaned her the Map, Severus might've been in the hallway, ill, all night.
"I saw the other two return," she whispered.
He huffed.
"Should I fetch Madam Pomfrey?"
"Shh."
Truly maddening, he was. Hermione resettled so her legs were flat on the floor. She thought he groaned a bit, but couldn't be sure.
He pressed one of his hands into his head when she nestled up the wall, but he stayed attached to her shoulder.
She supposed her proximity would heal him just as well as Madam Pomfrey could.
Then he went and fell asleep on her. Literally on her.
He continued to shake.
Hermione Summoned a blanket for them. Her bum was frigid on the floor but she wasn't about to move him.
If memory served, Severus had the aftershocks of the Cruciatus to continue to torture him.
"Crookshanks, no!" she hissed.
The cat nosed around the vomit.
Hermione let her head fall back against the bookshelf. Then it popped up again when she realized who could help.
"Dobby?" she whispered.
The house-elf popped into the sitting room. He wore one of Ron's old sweaters, tied into a knot at the bottom hem since it was too big for the little elf. He had decided to wear each of Hermione's proffered hats on a rotating basis instead of wearing them all in a stack—"it was harder for Dobby to clean under the bleachers that way!" he had explained.
"Yes, Miss Hermione?"
Hermione held her finger to her lips.
"What is Miss…doing in here?" Dobby asked, big eyes squinted in suspicion.
"I'd hold up a wedding ring if I had one," she told him.
Dobby's tiny hands jumped up to cover his mouth. "Oh! Congratulations, Miss!" The too-big sleeves were held up by safety pins.
"Thank you," she said with a thin smile. "Could—could you clean up the mess over there? I can't really move."
Dobby turned towards the sick. He snapped his fingers. Crookshanks ran away.
"Thank you, Dobby."
"Should…should Dobby put Professor in Professor's bed?" Dobby took a small step forward.
Hermione pushed her fringe from her face. "I…I don't know. He was in a lot of pain when he came in."
Dobby plopped down onto the floor across from Hermione. "Dobby will stay. In case Miss or Professor need anything."
People—or house-elves—were being incredibly…supportive. She smiled at him.
Dobby smiled back, his hands folded in his lap.
"I'll make you another hat," she said.
Dobby became sheepish. "Miss is too nice to Dobby."
"Nonsense," she assured him.
They quieted. Severus didn't wake for the rest of the night.
Hermione stirred when she realized Dobby had moved them both into the bed sometime in the early morning.
"Good night," she whispered to him.
"Good night, Miss!" He snapped and disappeared.
...
Severus normally spent as little time possible in the bed. Hermione assumed he'd always been like that and it was not her advent that caused him to be restless.
So when Severus did not wake on Sunday morning, Hermione decided to have a lie-in herself. Whatever Voldemort had done to him had taken a massive toll. Even Hermione was tired, and she wasn't the one tortured half to death.
After luxuriating in downtime for a tick—where no one looked at her, or asked her to help with revisions or about a new spell, or threatened her very existence—Hermione Summoned her knitting from her bedroom.
Perhaps a black hat this time, she thought.
Severus woke halfway through Dobby's hat (he had a small head).
"Oh fuck," he grumbled before he rolled over to bury his face in the pillow.
On his side, he noticed Hermione in the bed as well. "Oh shite," he grumbled, quieter this time.
"Well good morning to you, too," she huffed.
"What are you doing?" he asked, the knitting having mystified him.
"Knitting."
Incredulous, he asked, "Why?"
"For Dobby." This was the most emotive she'd seen him.
"The house-elf?"
"How do you know Dobby?"
"How do you know Dobby?" he asked, the one eye she could see narrowed in suspicion.
"Harry may or may not have tricked Lucius Malfoy into freeing Dobby. He works here, now," she explained, eyes back on her task. Hopefully he was too knackered to read her mind. She didn't need everybody to know she had snuck into the kitchens.
Severus turned his face fully into the pillow before he pushed himself up with his arms. "That explains where he went."
Dobby had removed most of Severus's outer clothes before he put him in the bed, it seemed. He remained only in his white shirt and black trousers.
With great care, Severus moved to the edge of the bed to sit with his feet on the floor.
Hermione counted stitches. Severus was still. Then his face whipped around to Hermione.
"How did I get here?"
Now he seemed his usual alert self.
"Dobby," she replied, holding out the knitting towards him.
Severus scowled at the hat in her hand, more in confusion than anger.
She did not mention the impromptu nap they'd had on the floor.
He continued to scowl at her as he walked to the washroom.
Hermione rolled her eyes. For all she knew, that was a thankful scowl—or he didn't even know he was scowling. Maybe he thought he was smiling?
At this rate, she'd have Dobby's hat finished by the end of the day.