Death devours all lovely things;
Lesbia with her sparrow
Shares the darkness,--presently
Every bed is narrow.
Unremembered as old rain
Dries the sheer libation,
And the little petulant hand
Is an annotation.
After all, my erstwhile dear,
My no longer cherished,
Need we say it was not love,
Now that love is perished?
It was but the next night that Sylvia felt the searing pain in her breast—it was a half-remembered old pain, the white-hot intensity of it having been forgotten over the years, and now she grasped her chest as if she might suffocate.
She knew instantly what she must do, and sought out Severus. As it was, she met him in the corridors of Hogwarts (which precinct they would vacate the next day for the summer holiday, and retire to a house in Hogsmeade), obviously coming to fetch her.
"Are you ready?" he asked. "He is summoning the Death Eaters."
"He summons me also," she replied, caressing his face in her concern. "We should go separately. You go first and I will follow in a half hour or so. I need some time. A girl must look pretty for a man who is incapable of love, yet claims to love her. He may have loved me once, you know. But I don't think so, Sevy. I really don't think so."
He chose not to respond to her last statement. "I will see you soon," he said, walking away briskly, and trying to mask the fear in his eyes. He did not know what he would do when he saw this woman, this beautiful and good woman, who was his, standing next to the loathsome caricature of a man, pretending as if she cared for him.
***
The meeting was in the accustomed spot; the grounds of the old Riddle home. The Muggles there were incompetent, and unaware of any strange happenings; they were too frightened to approach the house or its grounds.
Severus tried to push his way into the circle of hooded figures, but felt it close up at his presence. He was on the outside now, and it was clearly communicated that he was not allowed to be a part of the circle, as he had missed the first meeting of Voldemort's return. At the head and somewhat above the circle, standing on a slight hill, was Voldemort, unmasked, his chalk-white skin shining horribly by the light of the pale moon, his red eyes flashing with malice.
"I see one has returned that I did not expect," he said in his cold voice, and Snape prostrated himself before the man (if man he was). He had learned this trick a long time ago. He just wished Sylvia would get here quickly.
"My Lord," he murmured, staring at the hem of Voldemort's long black robe.
"My unfaithful servant," Voldemort replied without emotion. "Did you really think you could return to me? You deserve to die for your infidelity. And die you will. But not yet. Take your accustomed place. We have business to finish before I let the others take care of you."
Snape slowly rose to his feet, and stood next to Crabbe on one side, and Malfoy on the other side. He was trembling, but he did not want them to see. He was glad for the hood that covered his face; so that his expression did not betray him.
"Now, on the most unfortunate matter of the Potter boy," Voldemort said; it was obvious that the meeting had already officially begun in the manner that was set out. "I find it unacceptable that you are unable to kill him. Obviously at the moment he is untouchable, with his relatives. So I suggest we postpone his eventual destruction until the school year resumes, so that he might be killed right under the nose of that Muggle-loving fool.
"The main purpose of this meeting is to organize an event fit for my return. I want hapless wizards and filthy Muggles alike to know that I have come back. I have several ideas, the foremost being—"
"Tom." It was one word, in a strong contralto voice, and yet, the whole circle of Death Eaters turned their eyes from the Dark Lord to the opposite side of the circle, where the woman was standing robed in bright red, her hair shining almost violently against the color.
"No one interrupts when I am speaking," Voldemort said, his voice touched with anger, but he had not seen her yet—the bulk of Crabbe and Goyle blocked her from view.
"I speak as I will," she said, and the circle parted automatically to let her through. Snape watched carefully as Voldemort caught sight of her. The man's expression changed perceptibly. His gaze grew more intent, even lustful, upon the woman whose dress matched his watchful eyes. She ascended the hill and stood next to him almost casually.
"Do you really think you can simply stand next to me, and it is what it was?" he asked, his face almost contorted into a sneer.
"Do you really think you do not want me to stand here?" she asked, her eyes lost in his.
"The child—" Voldemort began.
"The boy," she corrected. "It was no girl."
"Of course, mother," he said, accepting the correction, and Snape shuddered at the title he gave her. "The girl is reserved for another." He fixed his horrible eyes on Snape, and he fell to the ground with the intensity of the hatred concentrated upon him.
"Regardless, Tom," she said, putting her hand to his cheek in what looked like a gesture of intimacy; Snape realized more correctly that she was averting Voldemort's eyes from him, trying to save him from the pain. There was an almost silent murmur throughout the Death Eaters at her touch; no one touched the Dark Lord. "The boy is gone, but I am here."
"You are here. And another can be made. I must have an heir," he said, his voice lowered, as if carrying on a private conversation in spite of the Death Eaters surrounding them
"Are you certain? Heirs bring countless troubles," she replied casually, as if this were a dinner table conversation.
"Enough of speech," he answered, then turned to face the others. "Another gathering a week hence. You will be summoned. You are dismissed, except for you," he said, curling his finger towards Snape as the rest disapparated.
As soon as they were gone, Voldemort kissed Sylvia hungrily, as Snape looked away in horror. He thought he might retch—his head spinning, the red of Sylvia's dress swirling in his eyes, and the world moving beneath him. He had thought that he could do this, but now he was not so sure.
"Tom, what do you want with him?" she asked, breaking away from him, and gesturing to Snape.
"He must die, mother, mustn't he? He has been unfaithful to me," Voldemort replied, smirking slightly.
"I have been unfaithful to you as well, but you do not kill me," Sylvia answered, twining her hand in his.
"I am unable to kill you," he murmured.
"Regardless," she said. "Release him for now. We will deal with him later." She looked down casually at Severus, and her eyes communicated for a brief moment her fear for him.
"Mother, really! He must die now." Voldemort's tone was almost petulant. Snape had never thought he would hear Voldemort sound petulant.
"Not right now," she replied, a hint of seduction, of longing in her voice. "Aren't there better things to be doing? How long has it been?"
"Too long," Voldemort said, and ran his hands down the length of her body. Snape looked away again. He simply couldn't stomach something so foul, so horrible. It was only when he felt that terrible red stare upon his back, that he met the eyes glittering with malice. "You will be taken care of soon enough, and forgotten," he added. "Now, go."
And as Snape prepared to disapparate, he watched as Voldemort led Sylvia to the old house, his hands still roving over her body.
***
Sylvia did not return for several days. Snape met with Dumbledore to tell him the details of the meeting, and to express his concern about Sylvia.
"Dr. Oliver will be fine," Dumbledore replied, "I am sure that she is just trying to glean as much information as she can from Voldemort." Despite his optimistic tone, his eyes betrayed his worry.
Trying to quell his fears, Snape moved his things into his old family manor on the outskirts of Hogsmeade. For a while, it was distracting as he unpacked boxes and bags, and redecorated one of the old bedrooms for Sylvia (though he hoped she wouldn't really want to sleep there). However, he fell apart when he walked past the nursery, still complete with bassinet and rocking chair.
He sat down in the rocking chair, desperately wanting her to be back, hating the fact that she made him so vulnerable, so emotional, when he heard her voice echo from the entryway.
"Sevy? Are you here?"
He jumped up and ran down the stairs, seeing her standing disheveled in her same red dress, looking about her with surprise.
"What a lovely old house, Severus. I had no idea." However, she didn't have much time to look around, as he grabbed her almost violently in an embrace.
"Are you all right?" he asked.
"I'm fine, I promise. But I would love a cup of tea." He gladly obliged her, and soon they were seated in the spacious kitchen with cups of tea.
"Can you tell me what happened?" he asked anxiously.
"What, about the birds and the bees?" she replied. "Sevy, I thought your mother would have taught you better." She said it almost casually, though she looked troubled.
"So, you…with Voldemort…" He didn't like to think of it.
"I don't see why I wouldn't. Don't worry, Sevy. I am used to him…to all his violent desires…to all his…his…Anyway. After you left, this is how we occupied our time for quite a while. After this, we talked for quite some time. I convinced him that it would take time for me to destroy you, and he believes me. You're safe for the moment. But he's planning something big, something monstrous. He doesn't know the exact details yet, but I think he will wait until Hogwarts is back in session. He wants Albus to be afraid of him, though I think we know that that will never happen. Finally, I persuaded him to let me go, telling him that I must keep up appearances with you, so that you wouldn't expect anything. And here I am."
"As long as you're safe, and you're alive," Snape replied. "Then I am safe, and I am alive."
"Why, that was downright romantic," Sylvia said, a smile lighting her cheeks.
"Who would've thought?" he answered, then he reached for her hand. "I don't know if I can do this, Sylvia. It's too much for me, to see you with him, and to have to—I just can't."
"Oh, Sevy, you must," she responded. "Because it has now just begun. And what else can we do but fight him?"
"What else indeed?" he asked, wondering.
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That's all, folks! I think next we're going to move quickly through the summer and return to Hogwarts. If you love me lots and lots and lots, read and review, and I will be your slave forever!