Thank you again for all the reviews! I know some people have been wondering why I wasn't updating as much recently; I've broken my leg, so unfortunately my recovery has gotten in the way of my writing. However, I'm feeling better and hopefully able to update more; I also start my From Samhain to Solstice series next week of posting chaptered stories, one-shots, and/or shorts every day.

Chapter Forty-One—A Force for Freedom

Severus swept a critical eye around his quarters, and finally nodded shortly. As far as he could tell, there was nothing that a Draco possessed or influenced by the enemy could take offense to. Severus had made sure that he'd got rid of the books that might hold, or seem to hold, knowledge Lucius would have disliked. His chair and his couch were shabby enough to say that he was a half-blood who didn't have much money, who knew his place. The tea service was likewise battered and more than a little tarnished.

A knock came on the door. Severus turned to face it and stilled his mind. "Come in."

Draco entered, moving with that mechanical stride that everyone else seemed to have accepted as characteristic of the boy since his father's death. That was what Severus had heard Sinistra muttering about, at least. It had taken all his self-control to keep from rolling his eyes at her. "Professor Snape."

"Mr. Malfoy," Severus said softly, and looked down at the floor with the kind of deference Lucius would have demanded.

"Look up, Severus."

That name was also new. Draco Malfoy had never called him anything but Professor Snape. Severus slid his hand into a pocket to rest on the glass vial of his prepared potion, and looked up.

Draco's eyes had a slight glow behind them as he stared at Severus. Severus swallowed convulsively and knelt, bowing his head.

"I see that you know your place," Draco said in a voice that seemed to have echoes harmonizing with it. "Know your master."

"Yes," Severus said softly, while pressure bore down on him. It was warping, twisting pressure, the kind that wanted to bend and break his mind. He had felt it before when he stared into the eyes of another Legilimens.

But Severus had also felt pressure greater than that. The power that had unfolded lazy dark wings above Nott House before its destruction. The power of Albus Dumbledore when he stood before the students of Hogwarts and somberly announced his decision to go into "retirement" to preserve peace in their world.

And the power of the man who had taken him as servant and follower.

So he knelt there, but didn't panic, and let the power settle around him like snow. His mind circled restlessly inside its Occlumency, knowing what was him and what wasn't, alert to any changes in the pattern of his thoughts after years brewing potions that would, if he used them, bind to and alter the thoughts of others.

He could weather this.

The storm drifted around him and then retreated. Severus had the distinct impression that the power had been withdrawn into Draco's body. Either it thought Severus conquered or it didn't think it needed to waste the effort, what with Severus projecting submission and desire to serve on top of his mind as hard as he could.

"I never knew you were so afraid," Draco said conversationally.

Let him have bought my act, at least, if the power inhabiting him did not. Severus licked his lips and continued to stare at the floor. "The world your father built is one where purebloods rule," he whispered. "I know I'm not a pureblood, and there's no way that I could pass as one or claim their power. I can at least serve the most powerful, so that I'm not trampled."

"I never knew that you would rather be alive than powerful, either."

Then you were not paying attention, Severus thought, but only with the part of his brain that was tucked away. He nodded slowly, staring down at his hands, and shivered when Draco's hand came to rest on his shoulder.

"Rise, faithful servant," Draco said, voice ringing with those odd chords again. "You will follow me, and after this conversation, we will talk about earning you a brand."

"A brand, my lord?"

From the way Draco smiled as Severus stood up and carefully looked at him from the corner of his eye, he thought Severus was curious or honored instead of horrified. "Yes. My father said that of old, Dark Lords marked their chosen ones with a brand that showed their allegiance. I would do the same to you."

So much revulsion stormed through Severus that he thought for a moment his Occlumency would break and reveal the truth to the thing hiding inside Draco's body. He maintained his calm expression with an effort, and simply inclined his head.

"What will your brand look like, my lord?"

Draco tilted his head and seemed to be lost in reverie, perhaps communing with the thing manipulating him. Severus waited, his head half-bowed, pressing against the potions vial in his pocket with his thigh as he dared not touch it with his hand.

What kind of brand would be appropriate for a follower of the Elder Wand?

The entity in Draco's head, as filled with rage as he was at the death of his father, pulsed cold amusement through him at the question. A wand, of course. To show that no matter what weapon they may wield, they would be under my dominion.

Draco nodded, content. He supposed that some people would bridle at the wand's tone or the description of it as controlling Draco's followers, but Draco knew his place. He knew he would have his vengeance when they slaughtered the children of Hogwarts to create the Render. That was enough for him.

"A wand," he said, and turned his attention back to Professor Snape. The man practically trembled in the wash of his attention. He was a smarter and more cunning half-blood than most, Draco believed, or he would never have survived as the Head of a House full of purebloods. But that didn't mean much when he was facing the ultimate pureblood, who was far more now than just his student. "Positioned in the center of the left forearm, and surrounded by a shining golden snake."

Professor Snape blinked. "A snake, my lord?"

"Am I not a Slytherin? I would not have our House forgotten." Draco would try not to kill the students of his own House, unless they were those who deserved it, who had some connection to his father's death, like Ron Weasley did. "But gold in color, to show the light of the future that I offer to those who would follow me."

Professor Snape looked suddenly eager. Draco wondered why until he sank to a knee again, bowed his head, and asked, "You would spare my life if I agreed to follow you?"

"Yes, of course," Draco said, a little amused. Perhaps the man really had thought he would simply be slaughtered on the spot? He was too useful for that. Draco intended to keep him around until he had a use no longer. "Now, let us talk in more detail about those who would receive the brand and those who would not."

"Yes, my lord."

It will work.

Severus prepared the tea with steady hands, his head still bowed. Draco and the thing inside him sat on the couch not far away, intently watching him. Of course the entity would be alert to the threat of poison, even if Draco would not.

But Severus had perfected sleight of hand when he was young. It had been the only way that he could spare some of his possessions from the relentless torment of the Marauders, and the only way, afterwards, that he could earn some revenge, by slipping mild potions into the food and drink of various people at Hogwarts. They would suffer and never blame him. Of course they would not. It was widely-believed that the only way someone could be poisoned or potioned at a meal in Hogwarts was to involve the house-elves.

And if the house-elves swore up and down, trembling, that no potions had passed through their hands, who could but believe them? None of them thought to glance sideways at the man sitting at the same table as they were, a Potions master whose hands were clever at brewing, certainly, but not at slipping things undetected into cups or plates.

And he was a half-blood, moreover. He was weaker than they were, less clever than they were, the purebloods thought. As with so many things in Severus's life, the assumption of pureblood superiority had protected him as much as it had damaged him.

Severus's hand slipped the potion into both cups, a final precaution. If Draco did see him doing this, he probably wouldn't drink it, might force Severus to drink it, but the potion was harmless to anyone whose thoughts it wasn't attuned to.

And Severus had taken a sample of Draco's blood when he cut himself with his Potions knife his first year, undetectably, as he did with all his students who might prove…problems.

The potion bristled with Draco's blood, and the fact that Draco was thinking about the brand, and in such detail, would make it easier for the potion to bind with his thoughts, as well. Severus turned and set the cups on the table in front of Draco.

Draco's hand lashed out and caught Severus's wrist.

"Did you think I wouldn't notice you adding it?" Draco whispered. "I don't care if you want to die. You'll drink from both cups."

Severus simply nodded and reached for the cups. Draco sat back and stared at him.

He still thinks it's poison, then, Severus thought, and sipped quietly at the tea. Then he sat back and waited for something to happen. Of course, nothing would. It was completely ordinary tea except for the potion that couldn't affect him in any way.

"What was that potion?" Draco asked, when enough moments had passed that even the entity inhabiting his body appeared to be getting impatient.

"Something that I add to make the tea taste better." Severus shrugged, part of him mildly amazed at the way the lies rolled off his tongue. But in a way, he had prepared for this moment during all the years when he had thought he would be offering this potion to Lucius. "Most of my guests don't object to it, either. But then, they put so much honey and milk and lemon and so on in their cups that they probably don't taste it."

Draco stared back and forth between the cups for a long moment. Then he snorted and waved his hand. "Then you'll add more to the cups. And more tea. I will be asking for the recipe for that potion before I leave."

"Yes, my lord," Severus said, and went to add in the potion and the tea with hands that did not shake.

"Would the people who choose to follow you have to keep this brand hidden, my lord?"

Draco swallowed the last of his tea and set the cup down. Professor Snape was calmly watching him. He really hadn't suffered any effects from the potion in the tea, Draco had noticed. He could see someone who badly wanted Draco to die being willing to swallow the poison themselves, but Professor Snape wanted to live.

And he had kept talking about the brand and Draco's possible lordship for as long as it took to finish the tea, not showing any kind of upset stomach or ill temper.

The brand seemed to burn more brightly in Draco's mind the longer he thought about it. He leaned back against the couch now, and listened to the words of the Elder Wand, murmuring about the design of the brand. The Elder Wand wanted the wand part to be large and the golden snake to be small. Draco had no problems with that.

The design burned brighter still as he considered it. Draco smiled and glanced at Professor Snape. "Would you try to deny that you served me?" he asked softly. "Would you want to hide the brand?"

"Not particularly," Professor Snape said softly, and inclined his head. "But I do believe that a power struggle will happen now, because of the unspeakable death that took your father, and those who swear allegiance to you won't be well-regarded by the others who want to take the Minister's office."

"I plan to abolish the Minister's office in time," Draco said, and laughed sharply as he watched the professor's eyes widen. "Did you think I would keep it around when it caused my father's death?"

"I—did not think you would move so quickly," Professor Snape said, and exhaled.

"That is why the in time part of that sentence is important." Draco smiled, and made his tone a little condescending. Half-bloods didn't pay enough attention to the important things, he thought. But he could think about his brand, and the people who would eventually bear it, and his thoughts churned and moved in a calm sea. "But my father always intended the Minister's office to be hereditary."

Professor Snape nodded. "Well, it would make sense that he wanted to raise you to be a Lord."

"Yes," Draco said. "And lords have brands. And lords have followers." He drew the Elder Wand, feeling it sing in his hand, and noting the way that Professor Snape's eyes turned down to it. "You will kneel and take this brand now."

"Yes, my lord."

Professor Snape offered no protests and no shying away, simply sinking to his knees and baring his left arm. Draco was impressed. Perhaps, dirty blood or no, this one would stand high among his followers, and the wand of the brand could be especially bright and shining, since he would be the first.

As long as we discover that he had nothing to do with my father's death.

Draco touched his wand to the skin of Professor Snape's forearm and closed his eyes, the better to concentrate on the brand.

The thought swelled to fill him, the blaze of the wand and the golden serpent consuming him until he could think of nothing else. Draco began to pant as he thought how grand it would be. He would have dozens of marked followers—no, hundreds—no, better perhaps to keep it at a small number until he understood better how this worked and they proved themselves loyal—no, better to have it at hundreds so that no one could get close enough to betray him—

Something is happening!

The thought tore through Draco, hovering behind the images of his brand. He blinked and shook his head and panted, but nothing changed. His hand still gripped the wand, it still rested on the skin of Professor Snape's forearm, and already he was back to arguing with himself about how many followers he wanted.

He staggered and sat down. He felt more than saw Professor Snape rising to his feet, heard him calling, "Mr. Malfoy?"

That is my name—I have to get up, have to respond to it—

Why should you? snapped the voice of the Elder Wand. You should have people bowing to you! Have him call you Lord Malfoy, and then perhaps you can respond!

Draco tried to reply, but his heartbeat was surging erratically in his chest. He panted, and the panting consumed him. He tried to stand, and couldn't make his legs work.

Professor Snape's hands curled under his elbows. "Draco—"

"Unhand me! Do not address me by that name!"

Professor Snape stepped back, and let Draco collapse in an ungainly heap on the floor. Draco didn't care, as long as someone with dirty blood wasn't touching him.

You were about to touch him with me. Does that not make a difference?

Draco tried to answer, but he was picturing the wand in a flare of light against Professor Snape's sallow skin, and the golden serpent curled around it, and his legs twitched and wouldn't let him rise, and he was—

"Mr. Malfoy!"

Professor Snape was calling somewhere far away. But Draco's mind was surging and dancing with the thought of his brand, and the way he would stand on a dais above his followers, and the way they would kneel to him, upturning brightly shining faces—

The Elder Wand whispered stories of war and glory to him, and Draco was smiling as he fell into blackness.

Severus stood for long moments with his eyes fixed on Draco and, more importantly, the long wand of elder in his hand before he breathed out slowly.

It had worked. The thoughts of Draco's brand had consumed him as the potion altered his brain processes, to the point that he wouldn't be able to think of something else. Even now, in the middle of a coma, his lips twitched with soundless words and his fingers thrashed open and shut around the wand.

Severus Levitated Draco onto a bed in the back of his quarters, a small room that he had sometimes used in the past for his extremely rare guests. He conjured ropes that bound Draco to the bed, and charms that would ensure Draco's body remained in the same state it now was, not losing strength or muscle tone, not needing food or water because he had already taken an adequate amount, not needing to pass waste.

Then he stood back, and closed his eyes, and thought.

His first impulse had merely been to stop Draco. But now he wondered if he ought to join Minerva in fleeing to Fortius, since Draco might have told someone else about his visit to Severus and Severus would certainly be a suspect in his disappearance.

Of course, doing such a thing would ensure that Draco wouldn't be monitored, and if the potion wore off and Draco woke up…

Severus grimaced and shook his head. No, it would have to be the third of his plans.

Moving swiftly, he sealed Draco's eyes with more charms and encased his body so strongly that he wouldn't be able to move even if he exerted all his magic through his muscles at once. And if the charms might not hold against the Elder Wand's strength, well, they had only a short journey.

Severus floated the bed into the air and surrounded it with a transparent bubble that he then projected an illusion of an injured student on. No one would find it remarkable that he might have been overseeing a detention and now escorting such a student to the hospital wing.

That done, he arranged his face in an expression of perfect irritation and stormed towards the door from his quarters, throwing it open. The bubble floated after him as he made his way down the corridor with long strides.

The potions he had most recently brewed rested in warded flasks in his pockets. A shrunken trunk filled with books sat in another pocket. It was everything he wanted to take with him.

After more than ten years at Hogwarts, perhaps that was a sad statement of what mattered most. But it would not be sad if he lived.

"Professor Snape?"

Filius was standing near the stairs. Severus turned and glanced at him. He had hoped to make it to the highest towers where he could leave without being spotted, but Filius was a better option to stop him than almost anyone else would have been.

"Yes, Professor Flitwick," Severus said, and slowed, ignoring the way that Filius stared at the bubble behind him. Severus had made the illusion's face covered in boils, so it was impossible to make out the features of anyone in particular. "Did you need my help chastising students?" Severus hoped it was that, so that he could leave without much loss of time.

"No, I…" Filius turned and stared at Severus. Severus maintained his impatient expression, and he was sure it was perfect, without any trace that would give him away, but FIlius abruptly chuckled. "You're one of his."

"His, who?" Severus yawned as if bored. Filius probably wouldn't miss that Severus's hand had slid into his sleeve to grip his wand, but nothing could be done about that. Severus would aim to Stun if he could, blind and deafen if he couldn't. He didn't really want to kill Filius, who had already decided to leave at the end of this year. "You can't be speaking of Lucius Malfoy."

"No, no, his opponent. Word is spreading that his name is Roland Peverell."

Severus flinched and hissed, glancing around. The corridor was empty, but that could change any second. Even Saturday afternoon saw students going to the library and professors moving back and forth between their quarters and the Great Hall.

Then he realized what he'd revealed by his look, and turned on Filius, only to find his colleague holding his hands up.

"Word is spreading of him," Filius repeated calmly, "and that he allies with other magical species and doesn't care about blood. I want to join you, Severus. I would have come to you sooner if I'd suspected that you had an in with him."

"It is still only a suspicion that you have."

"Yes, but you haven't tried to kill me for it or curse me or run to the Headmistress to denounce me." Filius's irritating smile widened across his face when Severus only stood there. "I want to come with you. I can be useful."

Severus closed his eyes and took a deep breath. This wasn't something he had planned, and something that he hadn't cleared with Riddle beforehand, either. He doubted he would get in trouble for showing up with an enemy bound and potioned into stillness, but bringing in a conscious adult…

Well. There were undoubtedly defenses at Fortius that could deal with unexpected arrivals. And there was the potential of not bringing in Filius conscious, either.

He drew a vial from his pocket, one of the Sleeping Draughts he'd modified so that those who drank it could not be awakened until someone else had cast a Finite Incantatem over them. "Drink this, then."

Filius took the potion from Severus while looking him steadily in the eye. Severus only sneered back. If Filius thought he could either intimidate Severus or gauge his honesty from that, he was a fool.

But Filius only shook his head a little and said softly, "There comes a time when one must stand by one's choices," and knocked back the potion with a jerk of his head. He collapsed to the floor in the next instant, and Severus hastily snatched the potions vial, capped it, and slid it back into a robe pocket. He couldn't leave it, not when there was the chance that someone could study the traces of the potion left in the vial and figure out from there how it worked.

He hastily bundled Filius in another bubble of illusion, looking like a second student who had been injured in the same Potions explosion that had supposedly injured Draco, and then made for the Astronomy Tower as quickly as he could. He wanted no more delays.

And yet, standing on the Tower, Severus found himself delaying after all.

He swept his gaze slowly across the Hogwarts grounds. Dark trees stared back at him, the dark water of the lake. He could see the spot, if he squinted, where James Potter and Sirius Black had once humiliated him in their fifth year.

He grimaced. Severus did not like the thought that Potter's son and Black would be at Fortius. But Riddle would keep them from causing Severus any harm, assuming they were inclined to. They likely had larger goals.

Severus had spent more than half his life at Hogwarts. And he had spent it as a student jeered and spat at, then as a half-blood, whispered about and only tolerated a little. It seemed incredible to him now that he had stayed for so long where he was so miserable.

Well. Now, no matter what happened, he would never come back.

Severus closed his eyes and reached into the deepest part of himself, accessing magic he had last used on the night that Lily had died, when he had tried futilely to reach and save her. The Hunt had gone in a different direction than the one he'd anticipated, and he'd arrived too late. But now…

His body wavered, becoming thin black smoke. The bundles that contained Draco and Filius, tethered to him by his magic, did the same.

Severus launched himself from the top of the Tower, and watched the earth sliding beneath him. For a moment, the wind caught him and made him waver back and forth, and he thought about letting it bear him away.

There was a certain appeal to the idea, to being carried off by the wind and taken wherever it willed, perhaps a long way from the war.

But Severus did not actually want that to happen, and he bent his attention towards Fortius, and sped in that direction, the bundles making soft bundles of ash and trouble behind him.