III.
Severus cringed as his Dark Mark burned angrily on his arm. Voldemort was summoning him back. In truth, he could still go back, still explain his way out of trouble. But his decision had been already made, and he kept flying, clutching the child close to him.
She had fallen asleep shortly after they had left her cousin's house, blissfully innocent that she was most likely an orphan and soon to have no relatives whatsoever. The slight little thing... Cecil... was alone in the world.
As was he.
Perhaps they were not as different as he might have thought.
As he flew over the silent British towns, darkened with sleep, he decided that he did not like being alone. He had been ignored as a child, isolated at Hogwarts, and had been thrust friendless and defenseless into the world upon Graduation. That was why he had joined. Oh, of course there had been the power and glory, but what had driven him was the loneliness.
With the Death Eaters, he had like-minded comrades to act with, even kill with. There was a sense of camaraderie in the raids, in the robes and knives and wands... in the stealth and blood... they were all even physically linked by the Marks on their left arms.
And for a while, that had been enough.
But the constant killing had gotten monotonous, pointless, tiresome even. Lucius enjoyed it, too much in fact. The killing became a sport of sorts for him. The blonde former Slytherin had changed so much since they had joined.
Or maybe he hadn't. Maybe only Severus himself had altered, grown sick of it all, until he was once again isolated, along amongst those he had known so well. They were strangers to him now.
The child let out a contented sigh, trustingly wrapping her small hand around several of his fingers. It was hardly noticeable thing, but to Severus, the action reminded him that he was not truly alone.
They had each other now. In truth, that was all that they had. But somehow, it would be enough.
* * *
The handsome Death Eater stepped fearlessly into Voldemort's quarters. He knew why he had been called and was ready for his task. It had been long enough in coming. "Yes, my Lord?"
The dark wizard stood framed in the window, his hands clutching angrily at his rich robes. "I want you to find him, Lucius," he hissed. "I want you to find him and make him suffer in ways he never thought possible. I want you to pull off each of his fingernails... slowly, mind you. Then peel off strips of his skin... cut open his stomach and remove every organ you find... and finally, slice into his chest and hold his heart in front of his traitorous eyes so he can watch as you squeeze the life out of him."
Lucius' pale eyes glinted. "I shall enjoy it, my Lord."
Voldemort turned. "I knew you would." He slowly approached until he was centimeters away from Malfoy's face. But Lucius never flinched, even as the wizard's hot breath burned at his eyes. "Do not fail me. I want him dead... so I can hang his miserable corpse on the wall. Then all will know what happens to those who betray me."
His voice was calm, deadly calm, but his eyes burned with green fire that threatened to leap from his irises and enflame all in its path.
"I will find him and return, either with his corpse or dead."
He caressed Lucius' blonde hair with a pale finger. "Let it be the former, my Lucius, and not the latter."
Malfoy bowed deeply to hide his satisfied smile. "As you wish, my Lord." He had finally won. For so long, he had simply loathed Severus. Of course, the idiot had not realized the fact, hadn't seen that Lucius wished him dead. But he had never been able to do anything about that. The slimy git had been Voldemort's favorite for as long as he could remember.
It wasn't fair. Severus was too... decent. He didn't appreciate the killing. And yet, Voldemort had chosen Snape as his favorite- his precious Potions Master.
But finally, he had messed up. Snape had really screwed himself this time by daring to defy the Dark Lord. He had truly fallen from grace, and Lucius was ready to step up and take the place he had vacated. He had paid his dues for far too long. Now it was his turn. And he was certainly not going to make any idiotic mistakes like Severus had.
* * *
He had to stop for the night. His body was screaming at him for rest and his mind was reeling with exhaustion. Hogsmeade was ahead. He could stop there. Surely by morning they would not have traced him.
At least, that was his hope.
With his hood pulled up for fear of recognition, he carried Cecil inside The Leaky Cauldron. At the door, she stared up at him with deep blue eyes. Merlin, she had her mother's eyes. "What name?" she questioned sleepily.
He hesitated. It would seem suspicious for any man to have a child with him that was not his own, especially these days. "Call me... Daddy." His mouth stumbled over the unfamiliar and awkward words, a tender name that he could not recall ever saying.
Those eyes expanded into blue saucers. "But you not Daddy."
He held her close, that strange twist in his stomach returning once again. "I am now," he whispered into her soft curls of hair. "I am now."
Later, he sat in the darkness, watching as the little girl on the bed slept soundly, the thin material of her dress rising and falling with each breath. Leaning back in his chair, he let out a deep sigh. Every inch of his body *ached.* Sleep tugged naggingly at his eyelids, and eventually he gave in to the darkness that waited to overwhelm him.
// He Apparated outside the quiet Muggle household, careless of whether or not he were seen. He did not have time for subtle caution. Drawing his robes around him, he rapped solidly on the door.
When it opened, he peered out from under his hood. "I need shelter from the cold... I can pay." He patted the pouch at his waist. The woman who had been looking at him with apprehension now smiled, her eyes lighting up at the sound of the jangling coins.
"Of course... come in." Moving aside, she gestured him inside. "Are you hungry?"
He seated himself at the table, slowly lowering his hood. "Yes." She hurried to the stove- one of those curious Muggle creations- and began to ladle the contents of a boiling pot into a deep bowl. What with a new mouth to feed, any extra money would be well appreciated. It wasn't as if she didn't have her own children to feed without her wretched cousin showing up to deposit another squalling babe in her arms.
She set the bowl in from of the stranger. "All I ask is that you give me what you think that good, warm food and a dry, comfortable place to spend the night in is worth. I ask for no more than what you feel I deserve."
He rolled his eyes. Ridiculous woman. He was amazed that Felicity had left her child with the greedy creature. But then again, she had been desperate. All he needed to do was find the child and get the hell out of here before the Death Eaters found him.
From the darkness of the far corner came a soft cry. His black eyes flickered to the sound as the woman swore under her breath. "Your child?" he inquired.
"That horrid thing? Absolutely not!"
Bingo. He rose from the chair and moved silently over to the shadowed corner. There, shivering under a tattered blanket, was a small, brown-haired two-year-old. It had to be Cecil. He bent and scooped the child up into his arms. Immediately, he felt the magic that existed inside the child, the hint of power that already coursed, hidden, through her veins.
And the pathetic thing... forced to sleep on the cold floor like an animal... his lips set into a firm line before he got the chance to wonder where he had found the heart to care about anyone but himself. But before he could dwell on the topic, he turned and moved towards the door.
The woman's eyes widened with realization. "Where the hell do you think you're going? She's mine!"
He whirled, dark power crackling through the air and making him seem even more intimidating than he was. "It is little matter that you are lying, because the child is my responsibility now." He pulled his wand from his sleeve. "Rigor mortis."
He didn't even wait to see her fall from where she stood before he swept out the door. The Death Eaters would kill her anyway- it didn't matter what he did to her. It was not his concern.
Out in the rain, he hugged the child to his chest, feeling a strange connection with her, and drew his cloak around her to shield her from the weather. With a few more seconds, he had Apparated, broom in hand, to a spot a hundred miles from there. Then he climbed on his broom and headed off.
His destination was a place he had sworn up and down that he would never return to. It was a place he had absolutely despised. And yet, here he was, returning after six long, dark years.
He swatted his wet hair away from his eyes and steeled himself. Hogwarts. He was going back. //
END CHAPTER THREE
Notes: I'm incredibly sorry this chapter was so long in coming, but I've been drowing in play practice for the past week. It was positively insane. But thank God, the last performance is tonight... then I will be free to write whenever the mood hits me. Thanks for your patience, dahlings.
Severus cringed as his Dark Mark burned angrily on his arm. Voldemort was summoning him back. In truth, he could still go back, still explain his way out of trouble. But his decision had been already made, and he kept flying, clutching the child close to him.
She had fallen asleep shortly after they had left her cousin's house, blissfully innocent that she was most likely an orphan and soon to have no relatives whatsoever. The slight little thing... Cecil... was alone in the world.
As was he.
Perhaps they were not as different as he might have thought.
As he flew over the silent British towns, darkened with sleep, he decided that he did not like being alone. He had been ignored as a child, isolated at Hogwarts, and had been thrust friendless and defenseless into the world upon Graduation. That was why he had joined. Oh, of course there had been the power and glory, but what had driven him was the loneliness.
With the Death Eaters, he had like-minded comrades to act with, even kill with. There was a sense of camaraderie in the raids, in the robes and knives and wands... in the stealth and blood... they were all even physically linked by the Marks on their left arms.
And for a while, that had been enough.
But the constant killing had gotten monotonous, pointless, tiresome even. Lucius enjoyed it, too much in fact. The killing became a sport of sorts for him. The blonde former Slytherin had changed so much since they had joined.
Or maybe he hadn't. Maybe only Severus himself had altered, grown sick of it all, until he was once again isolated, along amongst those he had known so well. They were strangers to him now.
The child let out a contented sigh, trustingly wrapping her small hand around several of his fingers. It was hardly noticeable thing, but to Severus, the action reminded him that he was not truly alone.
They had each other now. In truth, that was all that they had. But somehow, it would be enough.
* * *
The handsome Death Eater stepped fearlessly into Voldemort's quarters. He knew why he had been called and was ready for his task. It had been long enough in coming. "Yes, my Lord?"
The dark wizard stood framed in the window, his hands clutching angrily at his rich robes. "I want you to find him, Lucius," he hissed. "I want you to find him and make him suffer in ways he never thought possible. I want you to pull off each of his fingernails... slowly, mind you. Then peel off strips of his skin... cut open his stomach and remove every organ you find... and finally, slice into his chest and hold his heart in front of his traitorous eyes so he can watch as you squeeze the life out of him."
Lucius' pale eyes glinted. "I shall enjoy it, my Lord."
Voldemort turned. "I knew you would." He slowly approached until he was centimeters away from Malfoy's face. But Lucius never flinched, even as the wizard's hot breath burned at his eyes. "Do not fail me. I want him dead... so I can hang his miserable corpse on the wall. Then all will know what happens to those who betray me."
His voice was calm, deadly calm, but his eyes burned with green fire that threatened to leap from his irises and enflame all in its path.
"I will find him and return, either with his corpse or dead."
He caressed Lucius' blonde hair with a pale finger. "Let it be the former, my Lucius, and not the latter."
Malfoy bowed deeply to hide his satisfied smile. "As you wish, my Lord." He had finally won. For so long, he had simply loathed Severus. Of course, the idiot had not realized the fact, hadn't seen that Lucius wished him dead. But he had never been able to do anything about that. The slimy git had been Voldemort's favorite for as long as he could remember.
It wasn't fair. Severus was too... decent. He didn't appreciate the killing. And yet, Voldemort had chosen Snape as his favorite- his precious Potions Master.
But finally, he had messed up. Snape had really screwed himself this time by daring to defy the Dark Lord. He had truly fallen from grace, and Lucius was ready to step up and take the place he had vacated. He had paid his dues for far too long. Now it was his turn. And he was certainly not going to make any idiotic mistakes like Severus had.
* * *
He had to stop for the night. His body was screaming at him for rest and his mind was reeling with exhaustion. Hogsmeade was ahead. He could stop there. Surely by morning they would not have traced him.
At least, that was his hope.
With his hood pulled up for fear of recognition, he carried Cecil inside The Leaky Cauldron. At the door, she stared up at him with deep blue eyes. Merlin, she had her mother's eyes. "What name?" she questioned sleepily.
He hesitated. It would seem suspicious for any man to have a child with him that was not his own, especially these days. "Call me... Daddy." His mouth stumbled over the unfamiliar and awkward words, a tender name that he could not recall ever saying.
Those eyes expanded into blue saucers. "But you not Daddy."
He held her close, that strange twist in his stomach returning once again. "I am now," he whispered into her soft curls of hair. "I am now."
Later, he sat in the darkness, watching as the little girl on the bed slept soundly, the thin material of her dress rising and falling with each breath. Leaning back in his chair, he let out a deep sigh. Every inch of his body *ached.* Sleep tugged naggingly at his eyelids, and eventually he gave in to the darkness that waited to overwhelm him.
// He Apparated outside the quiet Muggle household, careless of whether or not he were seen. He did not have time for subtle caution. Drawing his robes around him, he rapped solidly on the door.
When it opened, he peered out from under his hood. "I need shelter from the cold... I can pay." He patted the pouch at his waist. The woman who had been looking at him with apprehension now smiled, her eyes lighting up at the sound of the jangling coins.
"Of course... come in." Moving aside, she gestured him inside. "Are you hungry?"
He seated himself at the table, slowly lowering his hood. "Yes." She hurried to the stove- one of those curious Muggle creations- and began to ladle the contents of a boiling pot into a deep bowl. What with a new mouth to feed, any extra money would be well appreciated. It wasn't as if she didn't have her own children to feed without her wretched cousin showing up to deposit another squalling babe in her arms.
She set the bowl in from of the stranger. "All I ask is that you give me what you think that good, warm food and a dry, comfortable place to spend the night in is worth. I ask for no more than what you feel I deserve."
He rolled his eyes. Ridiculous woman. He was amazed that Felicity had left her child with the greedy creature. But then again, she had been desperate. All he needed to do was find the child and get the hell out of here before the Death Eaters found him.
From the darkness of the far corner came a soft cry. His black eyes flickered to the sound as the woman swore under her breath. "Your child?" he inquired.
"That horrid thing? Absolutely not!"
Bingo. He rose from the chair and moved silently over to the shadowed corner. There, shivering under a tattered blanket, was a small, brown-haired two-year-old. It had to be Cecil. He bent and scooped the child up into his arms. Immediately, he felt the magic that existed inside the child, the hint of power that already coursed, hidden, through her veins.
And the pathetic thing... forced to sleep on the cold floor like an animal... his lips set into a firm line before he got the chance to wonder where he had found the heart to care about anyone but himself. But before he could dwell on the topic, he turned and moved towards the door.
The woman's eyes widened with realization. "Where the hell do you think you're going? She's mine!"
He whirled, dark power crackling through the air and making him seem even more intimidating than he was. "It is little matter that you are lying, because the child is my responsibility now." He pulled his wand from his sleeve. "Rigor mortis."
He didn't even wait to see her fall from where she stood before he swept out the door. The Death Eaters would kill her anyway- it didn't matter what he did to her. It was not his concern.
Out in the rain, he hugged the child to his chest, feeling a strange connection with her, and drew his cloak around her to shield her from the weather. With a few more seconds, he had Apparated, broom in hand, to a spot a hundred miles from there. Then he climbed on his broom and headed off.
His destination was a place he had sworn up and down that he would never return to. It was a place he had absolutely despised. And yet, here he was, returning after six long, dark years.
He swatted his wet hair away from his eyes and steeled himself. Hogwarts. He was going back. //
END CHAPTER THREE
Notes: I'm incredibly sorry this chapter was so long in coming, but I've been drowing in play practice for the past week. It was positively insane. But thank God, the last performance is tonight... then I will be free to write whenever the mood hits me. Thanks for your patience, dahlings.