NOTE: This is the second work of a series. Check out A Price to Pay first!
The sun was beginning to rise in the east; it's beautiful array of pink and golden colors stretched across the still grounds, chasing away the fog that had settled over the grassy lawns during the cool night. With it, life followed as animal began to stir from their slumbers. The giant squid was already basking in the morning light at the edge of the lake, its long tentacles stretching skyward as it lazily turned in the rippling waters. Birds flitted in and out of the Forbidden Forest, singing their morning greetings as they searched for breakfast.
A cool breeze blew the sweet smell of spring in through the open window of the Headmaster's office. Standing there, arms crossed over his chest, Professor Snape seemed to be surveying the vast domain he had acquired from his years of loyal service. Hogwarts was now his. However, it had come with a heavy price.
Since the Halloween Feast debacle there had been numerous outbreaks of open defiance around the castle. The professors he could keep in line with threats to their pupils but students, that was a different problem. They seemed to care very little about the punishments they were receiving and even the increased use of the Cruciatus curse did not deter them. In the end, the best solution was to cut off the head of the rebellious snake.
It wasn't difficult to find the instigator, after all Potter had spilled the name while under Veritaserum, but how he should be dealt with, that was the question. It was with great surprise when Severus found Neville Longbottom sitting in his office, his round face scared with months worth of cuts and half-faded bruises. The Dark Lord had been adamant about preserving any pure-bloods but Longbottom showed no signs of conceding. The once timid blubbering oaf sat before the Headmaster, now bold as brass. He had declined every offer Snape had given, insisting that Dumbledore's Army would not give in to bribes or threats.
Upon hearing this, the Dark Lord concluded that the boy could not be left alive. He would surely continue to make trouble at Hogwarts which would only slow the transition process; however, when they went to retrieve him, he had seemingly disappeared. They had searched the entire castle but no one seemed to know where he had gone.
Nevertheless, the blatant disobedience seemed to subside with his disappearance. Some minor pranks still occurred of course, but students began to understand the consequences of such actions. Much like the rest of the Wizarding community, they began to fall into line and accept the new normal.
Severus took in a lung full of the fresh air and let it out in a deep sigh. Turning away from the calming view, he made his way back to his desk where the letter he had been working on lay half finished. He settled back into his chair and, pulling the parchment closer, began to reread what he had already written
If some form of agreement can not be reached, we will be forced to take serious action with your son.
His nose snarled at the the last sentence and he quickly dipped the nib of his quill into the ink well and scratched through it. To direct he thought bitterly and began to juggle alternatives in his head. He would never understand how it had become his responsibility to strong-arm parents into cooperation. Finally, he found a more subtle way to phrase his request and began to rewrite the letter on a clean roll of parchment.
Mid-way through the letter, a painful shock radiated up his left arm causing the quill to scratch across the page with a violent jerk. Cursing his now ruined work, he tossed the quill across the desk angerly and drew up his sleeve. The mark on his forearm had turned an inky black and he frowned at it as if it were an annoying student. What could possibly warrant a meeting this early in the morning?
With a roll of his eyes, Severus stood and donned a black traveling cloak from the nearby coatrack. His long fingers slowly worked the pewter buttons through their clasps as his mind tried to fathom what would be waiting for him. With a pinch of floo powder, a blaze of emerald rose up from the burnt out remnants of last night's fire and the Headmaster stepped in without hesitation.
The spinning scenery came to a sudden halt and Severus stepped out into the familiar sitting room at Malfoy Manor. The space was dimly lit by the same pink light that had been spreading across the Hogwarts grounds but it offered no warmth here. Instead, it seemed to be stealing all of the color, draining the room and leaving it dull.
"Severus," a voice greeted from his left. "I am glad you were able to join me so early. "
Turning his attention to the source of the noise, Snape found the Dark Lord leaning against one of the tall window frames. His silhouette was the only thing visible in the growing light of dawn. Quickly, he wiped the soot from his robes and flourished a bow.
"Of course, my Lord," he said and then returned to full height. "How may I be of service?"
Stepping away from the window, the Dark Lord paced leisurely forward and gave his servant a small smile. It was the cool smile that frequently prefaced some form of punishment.
"Still no sign of the Longbottom boy," Voldemort asked softly.
"No, my lord," replied Severus, being careful to convey the right amount of remorse. "However, there has been a significant decrease in rebellious activity since his disappearance."
"And yet," Voldemort hissed, fixing Snape with a piercing look. "That is not what I asked."
Severus bowed his head in submission and nodded. "My apologies, my lord."
"I have a job for you today, Severus. As a reward for your ineptitude, you will be watching the boy as he cleans the dining hall."
Severus tilted his head slightly but was smart enough to keep the emotions from displaying on his face.
"I assumed the boy posed little threat of escape by now. "
"You assume wrong," Voldemort said, his words ringing with unspoken warning. "Does the Headmaster of Hogwarts now find it beneath him to obey orders from his master?"
"No, my lord," he quickly assured though in his mind he was thinking exactly that. " I just…"
"Because he would do well to remember who gave him that title," cautioned Voldemort, his red eyes narrowing with amusement. "And how quickly it can be taken away."
Licking his suddenly dry lips, Severus nodded his understanding, too afraid to speak. Over the years he had come to learn that sometimes it was best to remain quiet.
"Now," Voldemort continued, apparently satisfied. He clasped his hand behind his back and stepped away. "I have business to attend to today. I expect the entire room to be spotless upon my return this evening." Without waiting for a response, the Dark Lord disappeared through an open door at the end of the study.
Severus sucked his teeth and turned in the opposite direction . The Cruciatus curse would have been better than this he thought angery as he shoved his way into the narrow hall that connected the rooms to the north. He strolled across the hardwood floor, muttering under his breath the entire way until he reached the dinning hall.
The door stood open and inside he could see someone sitting on the floor beside a steel bucket. Harry Potter was absent-mindedly drawing designs in the dusty surface beneath him. His head hung low, unaware that anyone was watching. Severus hesitated momentarily before announcing his presence. He hadn't seen the boy since that night in his office; and it had been damn hard work to avoid him. All the excuses, the lies, all for nothing as he now stepped into the large room.
"Aren't you supposed to be cleaning, Potter," he snapped in annoyance.
Potter's hand stilled but it was a long minute before he finally raised his head. The face that now looked up at him was hollow; the once defiant green eyes were dull inside sunken sockets. The boy tilted his head like a dog hearing a strange sound but he did not answer. Instead, he slowly moved to his knees and, withdrawing a stiff bristle brush, began to scrub at the grime that covered the floors.
So it was true. Six months was all it had taken to break the boy's spirits or, perhaps, it was the amount of grief that he had had to endure before that. Severus had heard stories of what Potter had been put through since his recapture, but he had assumed it was all talk, especially from Lucius's tales; however, looking at the boy before him now, he could believe it. His pale face was covered in numerous bruises in various stages of healing; faded yellows, deep purples and bright blues all meshed together leaving very little normal skin tone.
Shaking himself from thought, Severus grabbed the issue of the Daily Prophet from the long table in the middle of the room and sat himself in one of the numerous vacant chairs. He reclined with a sigh and set to reading the cover story.
It was silent for several hours, the only noise coming from the steadyswish swish swish of the bristle brush against the floor. In fact, by the time they spoke again Severus was nearly to the end of the Prophet.
"Can you move the table," Potter asked in a hoarse croak.
"You're supposed to do it by yourself, " Severus answered without looking up from his paper.
"How am I supposed to move it without magic," snapped the boy, sounding like his old self again.
Looking up, Severus could see that all the chairs had been moved neatly to one side of the hall and the floors were gleaming. He gave Harry a cynical sneer and shrugged his shoulders.
"I'm sure you'll find a way."
For a moment he thought Potter would return the cheek. The boy's eyes narrowed and he opened his mouth but that was as far as he got. He seemed to suddenly remember his place and his chapped lips puckered but the annoyed glare remained. He threw the brush into the pale where it clattered loudly and began to push against the heavy table. It didn't budge. Grumbling under his breath, he tried again, his feet slipping against the damp floor. Still the table did not move. In the end, he was forced to crawl underneath in order to reach the remaining dirt.
Severus returned to his paper as the swishing of the brush resumed; however, it was now more sporadic and forceful. He could hear the faint muttering as the boy ground the bristles against the wood. Rolling his eyes, Severus skimmed the article for the place he had left off.
"Can I ask you a question," came Harry's voice as he reemerged from underneath the table.
"I don't know, can you?" Severus replied with a sigh of annoyance.
"How do you live with yourself?"
Severus cut his eyes up over the top of his paper. The boy was standing beside the table, his hands and face caked in a black grime that had come with hours of mopping.
"You have asked me this before," he said curtly. "My answer remains the same."
"You didn't answer-"
"Exactly," Severus spat bringing an end to the conversation. "Now-"
"I just wonder," Potter said forcefully, determined not to be deterred. "After watching your students being tortured and murdered."
Severus busied himself with neatly folding the Prophet before tossing it back atop the table. He narrowed his gaze dangerously at Potter as cold fury bubbled up inside him. Opening his mouth, he was on the verge of reminding the boy where he was when footsteps echoed into the room.
"Well," Voldemort's voice rang from behind him. "It seems you have had a productive day."
Saved from answering Potter's question once again, Severus stood from his seat and folded his arms behind his back. He gave the Dark Lord a nod before answering.
"Yes, My Lord. The boy has just finished with the room."
Voldemort's red eyes landed on the ragged boy beside the table and his lips quirked into a grin.
"I believe you're supposed to bow in my presence, boy," the Dark Lord said wryly.
Severus cut his eyes to see Potter glaring determinedly at the floor. A sardonic grin spread across his filthy face but he did not obey the unspoken order. Severus fought to keep his own amused smile from betraying him. So he wasn't as broken as they thought.
With a simple flick of his wand, Voldemort brought Harry to his knees before him.
"Did you help him, Severus," Voldemort asked softly.
"No, master," Snape replied confidently.
"We will see."
Another flick of Voldemort's wand sent the table screeching a couple feet from its usual position in the middle of the hall. Beneath it was a dark stain, its grimy residue a sharp contrast to the polished floor around it. So this had been a test to see if he would help the boy. A cleverly hidden plan to trust his loyalty.
"It would seem you missed a spot," Voldemort said, tsking in mock disappointment; however, the gleeful look on his narrow face portrayed the truth. He had been expecting the boy to fail.
"I couldn't move the-"
Potter's belligerent excuse was cut short as he collapsed forward onto his hands. His teeth came together with a sharp clack effectively stifling his screams into an uncontrollable growl. He rolled to his side where he began to writhe in agony under the Dark Lord's curse, his body twitching abnormally.
Severus averted his eyes to the ceiling but the sounds were inescapable. By now he should have been use to the pleas and cries but he had never found the stomach for physical torture. It was quite the drawback given his profession. Thankfully, Potter's piercing screams dissolved into ragged gasps as the curse was lifted.
"You will restart the entire hall tomorrow," Voldemort said and then turned to Severus. "And you, Severus, will return to keep watch."
Snape could not stop the look of surprise from darkening his expression. What had he done to deserve a second day of punishment?
"My Lord, I have meetings to attend tomor-"
"Reschedule them," interrupted Voldemort.
"Have I done something that has displeased you?"
The question was out of his mouth before Severus could stop it. Immediately, regret constricted his stomach as Voldemort tilted his head, surveying him with a cold stare.
"Are you questioning me," The Dark Lord asked in a low ominous voice. He stepped closer to Snape and Severus found himself wanting to retreat but he held steady, fear gripping his insides.
"I- I only ask so that I may fix my short comings, master," Snape quickly explained, bowing his head apologetically.
Voldemort gave a cold sharp laugh that sent a chill down Severus' spine. He knew retribution would follow swiftly and painfully; it always did. However, the Dark Lord moved past Snape as he strolled towards the exit.
"Same time tomorrow, Severus," he said simply in an amused voice.
Sighing inwardly, Severus nodded.
"Of course, My Lord."