A/N: Thankyou for all the reviews. I appreciate them, really. I took a while getting this written because I couldn't decide how to approach it. So in my typical style, I kept putting it off and concentrated on other things. Sorry. I'm terrible like that.
Disclaimer: It all belongs to J.K. Rowling. I have no money, and I'm not making any either, so I sincerely hope that no one decides to sue me.
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Sacrifices
Part Fourteen - Meetings, Dealings and Dread
Although Voldemort was the one who had issued the calling to his followers, when Snape arrived at the meeting of the deatheaters, Voldemort was nowhere to be seen. Instead, Lucius Malfoy was taking control of the meeting, talking in his stead. Apparently he and Voldemort had kept close council recently, which surprised many of his followers. It also conjured volatile envy amongst the others.
It was no secret that Lucius and his family were one of the first to change sides once Voldemort's powers had diminished. Of course Lucius had insisted that he remained loyal throughout, and was only pretending to turn his back on Voldemort. It was partially true. He also said, however, that is reasons were not for his own benefit. He insisted that it was simply because he could serve Voldemort more effectively if he was amongst the enemy, serving as a spy and informer. This, everyone knew, was a lie. He changed back because he was on the losing side and he was scared. He would like to think that his decision lay with protecting his wife and child. But that, too, would be a lie. He did it to serve his own interest. To keep himself safe. Everybody knew this.
That was why the deatheaters were so surprised at Lucius' elevated status. A status he simply revelled in. He enjoyed being Voldemort's closest servant. It gave him power over the others, and power was something that Lucius Malfoy found simply intoxicating. He enjoyed hearing news before everyone else, and he took pride in his position as informer of the rest of Voldemort's servants. He was far from stupid. He knew that they talked about him with derision when his back was turned. He knew they were jealous. he knew they were resentful. He just didn't care. While he was under the protection of Lord Voldemort, he knew that he needn't fear them in the slightest. He was right.
He could understand their confusion. When Lord Voldemort had summoned him after the many years he had spent on the opposite side, he could barely keep himself from trembling with nervousness under his terrible, piercing presence. He had expected the worst. He quite honestly thought that he would not live to see another sunrise. In that moment, he was filled with regret, and for a fleeting instant, he wished he had never joined the darkness. Yet Voldemort did not punish him as harshly as he had expected. Not by half.
He was given twenty lashes with the wip. A crude form of punishment, but as effective as many spells, and somehow a lot more humiliating. He had done this in front of a select number of his most loyal followers. A rather sickly expression of gratitude. A reward of sorts, for their loyalty. Then he had ordered them to leave, and Lucius was alone with him. Once again, Lucius felt that his life would be taken from him. And once again he felt a bitter pang of regret. Yet Voldemort simply stood quiet for what Lucius guessed was about two minutes. It could have been more. After all, he wasn't exactly in the right frame of mind to be counting the seconds. Every moment seemed to drag along for an eternity. He was nervous and sweating. He didn't move; he didn't dare to.
After what seemed an agonising, cruel length of time, Voldemort spoke. His tone was mild, relaxed. He seemed completely oblivious to Lucius' discomfort, though of course he wasn't. He asked him, coldly, emotionless, whether he wanted to live or die. For a moment Lucius was too shocked to answer. But he managed to choke out an only vaguely coherent string of words. He wanted to live. Very much so. Voldemort had looked thoughtful. Tactile. Then he had told him that he would grant his wish. Of course he would need something in return. A favour. Lucius had agreed immediately. Anything. He would do anything for is life. Voldemort told him that he would call apon the favour sometime in the future. If Lucius did not adhere to his request when the time came, he could kill him on the spot. Lucius had assured him that he would, indeed, honour his wishes. From then on, Voldemort had kept him close. Closer than any of his other followers.
This was both a good thing and a bad thing for Snape. Lucius and Snape had known each other a long time. A very long time, in fact. Lucius had been there when Snape was a deatheater. Lucius, for some reason, had always looked up to Snape. He was one of the few people that he had ever treated with respect, and luckily, that hadn't changed. As a result, Snape was always one of the first people to hear of any new information. He was often told information that was held back from the majority. Whilst the deatheaters as a whole were usually given only vague details, Snape was rewarded with detail. As a result, he was an effective spy indeed. Yet since Lucius was so close to Snape, not only through the deatheaters, but through his son as well, Snape could not afford to raise any suspicions. If Lucius suspected him, he would tell Voldemort immediately.
Every meeting with Lucius was a dangerous task. He had to remain impassive as Lucius told him of his many conquests, past and present. He had to hide his resentment, his disgust, and appear amiable. Respectful. He had to look at least somewhat enthusiastic whenever Lucius told him of Voldemort's latest plans. Under his mask of calm indifference, however, he was always appalled, always grimly surprised at the extent of evil a wizard could fall to. And there was always that little whisper, that shadow in his mind that reminded him that he, too, had been part of that evil once. That no matter what, he would never find redemption.
Normally the meeting would consist of Lucius standing in front of the others, full of self-importance, relaying to them the status of Voldemort's growing power, the number of followers returning to their side, and future terrades against the muggle community. This time, however, the news was more startling. Voldemort had requested that in one week, another meeting would be held. Parents with children over fourteen years old were to bring them along. It was time that they were officially recruited. An excited buzz filled the air as the crowd talked amongst themselves. That was in itself a strange ocurrence. The deatheaters were not normally particularly sociable during their meetings. Yet this moment was special. Many mothers and fathers had anxiously awaited the moment when their sons and daughters would be allowed to join them. The day of recruitment was going to be a very proud day indeed. Lucius would normally quiet them, but today he allowed them to chatter. After all, he could sympathise. His son would be attending too. His chest swelled with pride as he thought of it.
Standing away from the others, though not enough to warrent any unwanted attention, Severus Snape felt dread settle into his heart, heavy and stifling. He knew that many of his students would not be attending school a next week.
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A/N: Ok, that took quite a while. I don't know what's happening next. Your guess is as good as mine. I will try not to take as long with the next part, but then again, I am quite the procrastinator sometimes :Sighs: