ICLYLM chapter 18: For Whom The Bell Tolls

Thanks to all the faithful reader/reviewers!

Almost everything belongs to Rowling. Phoebe is mine. Jeffrey Barnes belongs to the eloquent Raven Dancer who has given her kind permission for him to help Severus and Phoebe.

On the second or third day, Severus was beginning to lose track, a cot was brought to his potions lab/pantry. Surprisingly, there was actually room to set it up at the far end of the little room. "Cozy" Severus said to no one in particular after he had unfolded it and made it up. "Bed, chair, sink, cauldron, fire, ingredients and utensils... everything a potion master needs all in one place," he thought wryly.

The next day the thick (in more ways than one) wizard who had been acting as a courier brought the message that Severus was "invited" to use the library. The Library had clearly once been a muggle one... of a well to do family at that. Dusty volumes of Shakespeare, Donne, and even a older complete Oxford English Dictionary... all thirty some-odd volumes.

An entire section of shelves near the door had been cleared of its original contents... a pile of Dumas and Hugo titles in the corner were doubtless the former occupants of the space. Now that portion of shelves held books related to magic. Severus picked up a book from the pile on the floor. Hugo, in French. Yes, they'd been well-to-do, alright. He put the book back on the pile wondering if the Dostoyevsky was in Russian. Probably. He doubted the Riddle family had been concerned with actually reading the books. He wandered the room looking at the titles on the shelves. Finally he selected a volume of Emily Dickinson's poems and of John Donne's collected works. He added a thick volume on potions from the magic section and returned to his pantry.

He opened the door to find Voldemort seated on the wooden chair. Once he got past being startled, Severus noted how Voldemort could make even this simple kitchen chair look like some sort of throne.

"My Lord," Severus intoned dipping his head low in deference. When he straightened up the red eyes were regarding him intently. Without a word Voldemort rose and stepped across the small space between them. He took the book on top of the pile and opened it to a random page, reading aloud in that high, cold, voice,

"'For each ecstatic instant, We must in anguish pay, In keen and quivering ratio, To the ecstacy.' Indeed. A muggle with insight, how strange." He turned the book to read the spine, "Dickinson." He tossed the volume behind him. It hit the edge of the cot and bounced to the floor. Voldemort took the next book again opening it at random and reading aloud.

"'Every man's death diminishes me, for I am concerned with mankind. Therefore, do not send to know for whom the bell tolls. It tolls for thee.' Now Severus, why would you be reading this?" Voldemort asked, "Has the muggle-loving fool been addling your brain?"

"My Lord," he said, meeting Voldemort's eyes, "It is the early poetry which concerns me. If you would care to read it I think you'd find it, interesting."

"Indeed?"

"Yes, my Lord. He uses words to have his way with people...especially women... the way we might use magic."

"Yes, yes, whatever," Voldemort said dropping the book onto the floor. "Aha, this is more like it," he said spying the large potions volume, "It is fortunate you don't intend to waste all your time on muggle writing, Snape." With this Voldemort turned and resumed his seat.

"I have been given to understand that you are doing a capable job with your brewing."

"I strive to please you, my Lord," Severus intoned.

"I certainly hope so, for your sake," Voldemort said silkily. "Still, one wonders, if you intend to please me, why it is that you did not tell me WHY our newest death-eater was spending all that time at the clinic in Hogsmeade... or even THAT she was."

Uh. Oh.

"My Lord, I knew word would reach Malfoy and then you. It seemed foolish to risk an unnecessary communication when Malfoy's son was sure to tell him. I am watched very closely now, my Lord, and I must take care if I am to remain useful."

"I should think the reason WHY Taylor was ill would merit the risk of communication," Voldemort said, a dangerous edge to his voice.

"My Lord, I do not yet know. It seemed unwise to inquire too deeply. I was confident that when she returned to the castle the cause of her illness would be easy enough to discover... especially if it is serious and she requires care from the nurse. Was Malfoy able to discover the cause then?" Severus said feigning eager curiousity.

"He was." Voldemort said icy, regarding Severus carefully.

"May I ask what?" Severus inquired breathlessly.

Severus hadn't thought it possible for Voldemort to fix his eyes upon him more intently than he already had. Somehow, however, Voldemort managed. The red eyes seemed to bore into Severus as the Dark Lord answered him,

"Taylor is pregnant."

Severus didn't have to pretend. The sound of that voice saying that seemed to pull the wind out of him. He played his reaction to his benefit, grabbing the counter to support himself in feigned surprise.

"My Lord," he breathed, "Are you sure?"

"Indeed."

"Is it? Could it be, my Lord?" Snape put excitement and anticipation he didn't feel into his words, reminding himself that two peoples lives depended on him pulling this off.

"The Child is my Heir" Voldemort supplied coldly and Severus sank to his knees despite the hand he had placed on the counter. Thinking quickly he moved on his knees to Voldemort and spoke.

"My Lord, this news, it is more than we had hoped for!"

"I think, rather, that it is quite the opposite of what some of my followers had hoped for."Voldemort noted sourly, "it rather spoils their ambitious plans."

"They do not want you to have an heir my Lord? They wouldn't... That isn't the reason Taylor was in Clinic was it?" Severus said quickly feigning alarm this time.

"None have interfered. Yet. It may not be necessary."

"I confess I do not understand."

"The woman is experiencing a difficult pregnancy. The fool doctor at the clinic in Hogsmeade wanted to end the pregnancy and doubtless would have if Malfoy had not intervened. Your caution might well have cost me my heir Snape."

Snape lowered his head, wringing his hands, "I beg your forgiveness, my Lord. There is no excuse."

"I do not need your contrition Snape!" snapped Voldemort. "No just yet, anyway," he continued in a softly dangerous voice, "What I need is your skill. You have acquitted yourself well so far. But now more is needed. The woman and the healer have been brought here."

Snape caught his breath, feigning surprise.

"The healer claims the pregnancy is toxic and will kill her, doubtless why the fool wanted to terminate it. Now his task it to keep her alive long enough for the child to be born."

Snape forced himself to nod. If he didn't already know, this is the point he would realize what he had been brewing potions for. The pregnancy would kill her? Merlin's Name!

"The time has come for you to be of more direct assistance. From this point on your welfare is directly related to the welfare of my heir. If the heir is born alive all is forgiven. If it is not... well, THAT would be the time for contrition... little good though it will do you." Voldemort rose as he finished this sentence so that now he towered above the still kneeling Snape.

"They are being held in the basement. You may come and go but the healer and the woman stay there." With that Voldemort swept past Snape and out the door. Severus stayed on his knees for a few moments carefully controlling his breathing. Finally he rose and shut the pantry door firmly.

Numbly he found the chair and sat down, only to rise quickly, as if burned, when he realized Voldemort had just been in the seat. A rush of nausea clutched his stomach and he fought it back. He moved to the cot and sank down. The pregnancy would kill her and Voldemort had brought her here to make sure the child was born despite this. Of course, the evil wizard wouldn't turn a hair at her death... or likely at Barnes'. Would he kill Jeffrey, too, once the child was born?

He had to get hold of himself! The only chance any of them had depended on his not making any mistakes! A deep breath. Yes, that was better. Alright, then, the first thing he might be expected to do is go down there and take stock of his "task."

Yes, he needed to be calm, cold even. He could manage that. The key was managing Jeffrey and Phoebe's reactions so that they didn't give him away. It was best to go in completely in character and talking... yes. Jeffrey was astute and very good at picking up signals... hopefully he would pick up on the "script" quickly.

Another deep breath. Severus rose and began to walk toward the door. His foot hit something and he looked down at the volume of poetry. "In keen and quivering ratio to the ecstasy, indeed." he muttered under his breath. It seemed to him that they anguish with which they were paying far, far outstripped any supposed ecstacy.