Bumblebee Blood

Chapter 21

I know I have a terrible habit of disappearing; being a teacher takes an awful lot of time, mainly because you get out what you put in and it is the best job in the world, but I promise I am making an effort to write more and find the time. Thank you for bearing with me. ~ SS19

Nothing followed the woman's terrified confession.

A very remote part of Severus' mind whispered that he was not, yet, dead. A slightly more significant part, most concerned with his survival, reminded him that the first he thing he did, determined if his gruesome fate was accelerated. He needed to break the nothing, because from the way Lord Voldemort was watching him it was clear that this was a very fragile stalemate.

Thundering revelation gripped him - the Dark Lord was unsure.

But did he doubt the story, or did he doubt Severus' honest, or lack thereof?

The stakes were higher now. He was gambling with his own life and the stability of the person he cared for most in this wretched world. He would not die here.

And so, he made his choice and with that his move.

He laughed.

The shadows around him seemed to rustle and ruffle with nervous energy. The woman cowered on the ground. But Severus, with some perverse need, could focus only on the Dark Lord - the slightest tilt of the head, perhaps imperceptible to most, but clear to the prince of subtlety.

Indecision.

Severus had the advantage, "My Lord, it has been a long while since you regaled us with such humour, but clearly I cannot be Dumbledore's long lost child." His voice was light with the perfect balance of incredulity, vehemence, honesty and deference. Then, his masterstroke, "I must admit, I dislike being the subject of such a joke." The Dark Lord craved others' vulnerabilities and the opportunity to exploit them and Severus offered his artificial chink in his armour as willingly as he always did.

He had, also, miscalculated.

Lord Voldemort pointed his wand almost lazily across his body and his eyes never left Severus as the captured woman descended into terrible tormented cries. There was someone more vulnerable than him in this situation. Severus tried to keep his expression neutral and not to break the stare - he needed to see this out -

"Please!" The midi-witch sobbed, even the monosyllabic word punctuated by a seized inhale, but of course the Dark Lord was not moved and Severus was well aware that he would not win this round of whatever this game was - but he still had to play. Sweat was beginning to trickle uncomfortably down his spine and he had to mechanically force his left fingers from the fist they had created, willing the woman to just die -

Instead she screamed again and Severus winced. Instantly Voldemort stopped and the prisoner panted and whimpered, "It's true - I gave the boy - Dumbledore's child - to Snape -"

Severus shook his head, "That's not true."

Voldemort shifted his wand again and she shrieked - Severus made himself aware of every muscle in his body, driving all of his energy toward holding firm, seeing this out, it was a test, a test he had never had the stomach for, but still a test…

…Maybe it was his vulnerability after all…

"My Lord!"

Once more, the Dark Lord's curse was relinquished and he continued to watch Severus with an almost pleasantly curious expression. Almost, not quite. Severus held out a hand and he was very aware that the trembling was involuntary and not part of his act and he had to accept and admit that he was suddenly afraid. He needed to change his tactics, "You know who I am."

Whatever Voldemort wanted from him, clearly Severus had not solved, as the Dark Lord solved, as the Dark wizard moved both hands in a mock frustrated gesture and the ivory wand jerked but the medi-witch had no voice to scream with and her ever smaller and hunched frame simply twitched and convulsed and when Severus turned to watch he could see her wordless most open and the eyes that stared at him spilling endless tears as the single instruction left him unbidden, "Please."

The medi-witch collapsed, still and broken. The Dark Lord turned away from Severus and the lack of cards to read made the Potion Masters' move even more obscured. He needed to act but he did not know how to proceed. Acid churned his stomach. He needed to distance himself from what Albus would do now. The circle around him seemed tighter, oppressive. Voldemort was waiting. He drew his wand and pointed it at the broken and cowering and unarmed and innocent woman, "You know nothing of what you speak." The acid had risen to the back of his throat and he wanted to blame that for the harshness of his tone. The memories of his first kill were threatening to invade the present and he desperately needed a clear mind, "To lie to the Dark Lord is a dangerous game."

This had Voldemort's attention. Everything Severus had done so far had meant he was not dead. Each choice had led him further down and down a path and he could not judge the destination but he knew how badly he wanted to survive, not just for him. He was not sure when this situation had become winning and losing but surely the fact he drew breath meant he was winning? The midi-witch spat blood into the dirt. She observed Severus and he saw the resolve and determination in her gaze - but hers was not to survive - it was the madness induced bravado before inevitable death that possessed her now - and when she delivered what would be her final and last words, Severus realised too late that he should have simply killed her.

"I…told…Dumbledore…it…was…you."

A moment of nothing.

A flash of green light.

He could have sworn it was him who cast the curse as her confession shattered his pretence and were likely to be his death sentence, but his wand had not moved. Lord Voldemort, on the other hand, had moved. He regarded Severus now, both hands together, wand casually cradled between his fingers, expression neutral.

No, not neutral.

Empty.

Severus panicked.

The flight response kicked in and he could not prevent how he wildly looked for an exit, both hands out before him, "He did not tell me, my Lord! I swear to you! He did not tell me!" He gestured to the dead woman, "She's lying! I'm not - " He broke the sentence when he did not want to finish it, but the impassive Voldemort terrified him far more than the denial of his father, "I'm not his! I belong here, my Lord, to - to you!" His voice cracked on the passionate oath and it did not go undetected. Voldemort merely took two paces forward and Severus willed himself to stay still, to not yield, to demonstrate that bravery Albus always said he possessed -

The stare gained purpose.

Severus had seconds to react.

First there was pain, dazzling his senses but also sending his mind into whirling confusion and as Voldemort sought, Severus hid in the chaos, conjuring whatever he could just to buy himself time to construct a false reality with just enough truth to save himself. He flung a memory of Albus approaching him to tell him about the child which was accurate enough, under the willow tree, adding a layer of boredom becoming annoyance and then becoming intrigue - here, Voldemort lingered and Severus attempted to focus again, it had to feel natural, like he was not holding back even when in truth he was defending everything he had ever experienced or possessed. Carefully he let the Dark Lord wander through cautiously nonchalant moments - the paternal feelings he had for Draco, his hatred for Potter, his enjoyment of Voldemort's company - with an undertone of artificial fear and far less artificial respect, of course.

A spasm lanced between his eyes as the Dark Lord wanted more. He offered those more intimate; his mother, which Voldemort seemed not to wish to examine, reading the letters Dumbledore had given him, pretending he was combing them for information, Dumbledore forcing himself into Severus' mind. Here, Voldemort paused again and Severus held his nerve, driving the emotions of disgust and determination, wanting to please the Dark Lord, ever to please, always to please, ever the loyal servant…

"Ever the loyal servant?"

Voldemort's presence sharpened. He wanted that. Severus resisted, hearing his own breathing, trying to say it was nothing - but Voldemort persisted. Heart pounding, Severus surrendered the memory from a mere hour ago, him and Albus locked in an angry confrontation in the Headmaster's office.

"You know I belong to you Headmaster - the Dark Lord means nothing to me!"

Voldemort's anger was practically tangible even as Severus conjured fury and guilt and vehemence to coat his internal monologue - old fool, he knows nothing of me, what I am capable of, one day I will vanquish him, I will destroy him - repeated over, and over, and over, and over until the Dark Lord relinquished the spell.

Pain in his knees and moisture beneath his palms and one forearm and one shin told him he had fallen to all fours before his eyes could confirm it. He hissed sharp inhales and exhales through his teeth, bringing one muddied hand to wipe sweat from his upper lip, before returning himself to a knelling position before Voldemort, who was still just watching him. Was it over?

Why did the Dark Lord not speak?

Voldemort gestured behind Severus - suddenly he was gripped by two of the Death Eaters and when he struggled he inhaled a very familiar and obnoxious cologne to his left - Lucius - whose grip was not as tight. Voldemort nodded once and Lucius used Severus' wrist to manoeuvre Severus' left arm out before him, rolling up the sleeve to reveal the ugly tattoo that marred his very soul. Severus' breathing hitched one more notch as the Dark Lord neared him and his sense of vulnerability and danger multiplied tenfold and he almost wanted to withdraw. Lucius' hand had returned to his shoulder and to anyone else it would look like he was holding Severus down but Severus suspected he was in face keeping Severus up - Lucius knew what was about to happen - why did his closest friend squeeze the moment before the Dark Lord's wand touched his Mark -

And then Severus understood.

Oh, how he understood.

He understood when he heard distant screaming and knew it could only be himself.

He could not even identify what this agony was. Liquid ice and blazing flames and crushing pressure erupted in what he thought was his arm but maybe it was in fact all of him, his entire body consumed, he wrenched his arm back, away, toward, knowing he was whimpering and suddenly he could hear Voldemort's voice by his ear, as if Voldemort was holding him, cradling him, tenderly, and the weakest part of his heart wished so desperately it was Albus, "I will ask only once, Severus. Did you know?"

He sobbed out a pathetic and pitiful denial, clawing his tormented arm against his chest.

"Look at me." Voldemort murmured, and so Severus did. Voldemort raised a hand and brushed it particularly gently under Severus' eyes, as if wiping the tears away while his fingertips momentarily obscured Severus' vision. There was a moment where Dark wizard and Light spy locked gazes, before…

"Deny him." Voldemort commanded.

Severus could easily mask his hesitation with the pretence of stumbling consciousness, mainly because it was no pretence.

Voldemort repeated the instruction.

"I…" He breathed in, "I am not…his…"

"Then, loyal servant," Voldemort paused, "This works to our advantage. We shall torment him together." He tried to blink the bleary confusion away but the Dark Lord understood, "Shall we see if the great and the good Albus Dumbledore can continue to use his flesh and blood as a spy - knowing I could return to him a mere…" He smoothed Severus' hair and cupped his cheek, "Pile of his flesh and blood…"

Inside, some very deep part of his soul, possibly that weakest part of his heart, broke for Albus.

"I am not sure which outcome I favour more; him knowing he loses a strategic advantage when he keeps you at home…or him tearing himself apart as he waits for you to return…." The thumb wiped a stray tear away, "Now, listen carefully dear Severus. Lucius and Mulciber will take you back to Hogsmeade and you can make your way back to Dumbledore - try not to take too long, your arm needs treatment and you are in no state to do that yourself." The voice turned colder still. "And if I find out you have lied to me…consider your arm…a promise." He dropped Severus rather unceremoniously to the ground, "Remove him from my sight."

There was something very peculiar about the way the masked Lucius looked at him as Severus found himself abandoned in a lonely back street of Hogsmeade. Cold from the inside out, Severus pulled his robe tighter around himself and ensured his hood covered his face as he hunched over, his arm now aching with persistent throbbing. He brought his knees to his chest and used the wall to push into a standing position. It was a long trek, even through the Forest - and he was not sure how long his strength would last - one faltering step demanded too much energy and he paused to recoup a breath and his balance. But it was one step closer to home, and then it was two steps, and then it was three, and then…

Some nine hundred odd shuffling steps later, Severus had to admit he had lost count. The Forest meant he was exposed to less people but it was now rather sapping his patience as it had all looked rather similar and he did not have the level of concentration required to pay attention to his route. Infrequently, his arm spasmed and he had to swallow the startled cry that sounded so unlike him. Eventually his lack of focus caused him to stumble, trip, lose any balance and he just did not want to get back up again. He wanted to be home. Still cold, he pulled his outer robe off and wrapped the heavy material around his arm, trying to comfort it even while the rest of him shivered. He sat back against the solid corpse of a fallen tree, scuffing dying leaves with his feet, withdrawing his wand. Help would always come when summoned. "Ex…" He tried to conjure his memory, the memory, the feeling of pride and acceptance and warmth. When, entirely casually and with no clear forethought nor manipulation, like it was as natural as it could be, Albus put an arm around his shoulders before the crowd, "Never have I seen a greater talent for potions than my Severus."

The words had been so simple and for all of his supposed cynicism and despair, how Severus had glowed inside. The raven burst out in a shower of silver light and hovered, anticipating, "Go to him. Help him to find me." The bird flapped away and Severus pulled his knees to his chest, his good arm wrapping around his shins. He rested his head atop his knees and closed his eyes. Did the Dark Lord truly believe Severus had not known of this? He doubted most highly that he would have been allowed to live and as far as he was aware, there was no evidence that the Dark Lord could have known. He could keep this from Albus; the Headmaster did not need to know that Lord Voldemort had identified the child. He could keep that from him. He would not be used as a weapon to torment Albus, any more than he already was. He shifted the weight onto the bottom of his spine, the exhaustion beginning to set in. The knife edge was even thinner now. This could so nearly be over…

A musical note startled him from near slumber. He lifted his head at the flurry of red and gold that settled on the trunk beside him. "Ah. The phoenix." He greeted, as the smaller raven also landed nearby. Fawkes regarded him with a strangely human expression of sombre curiosity which Severus almost rolled his eyes at, "One day phoenix, you could actually bring him with you." The bird cawed in response - but at least Severus was, for now, among friends.

And soon, his tired mind offered, it would be among family.

Chapter 22 will follow soon. Thank you for reading. Much love - SS19