LIGHT AND SHADE

AU, dark, HP/SS slash

Chapter One

The rain just didn't stop. A leaden wall of water stood between the sky and the earth. Behind it, the lines blurred and everything turned grey - bony silhouettes of nearly leafless trees; low constructions of wooden barracks; dark, angular figures of Muggles swarming in liquid dirt. The rain didn't harm them - just chilled them to the bones, making their awkward movements even more forced and inefficient.

The place that once had been opulent and thriving, had been known for luxurious gardens and unending strings of guests was almost a wasteland now - and reluctant labour of new slaves could do nothing to change it. Of course, safety demanded the landscape to be as flat as possible - to prevent stealthy approach of the enemy's - and the layers of electrocuted barbed wire were a necessity, too - preventing Muggles from escape, even if doing nothing to impede wizards.

Malfoy Manor was everything it had to be for securing its survival.

It was the fifteenth year of the Seventh War between Light and Dark.

* * *

His hand shook just a little. He carefully put the vial with ultramarine powder back on the table. It was no good, no good at all. He didn't want to blow himself and half of the house with him, did he? And even a slight overdose of the grounded Dragon scales in this mixture could do it.

Damn; damn his fingers that didn't want to be steady. Damn him for missing the time when he had to take his potion - again. Severus Snape flicked the silver lid of his pocket watch open. Only he didn't miss the time... it was still half an hour till then.

So, the stuff didn't work as before for him. Or the symptoms intensified. He'd have to look for another combination promptly, the one that would be as effective and wouldn't cause swift addiction. He was very cautious about that - made it a rule never to take anything for longer than two or three months. He was a Potions Master not for nothing, you know.

Damn Lucius... Damn Lucius for doing it to him!

Hands shook worse now - other signs escalating, too: dizziness, nausea, deep ache in his joints. He rummaged through his things in anxiety, all of a sudden unable to find the necessary thing in his neatly systematised possessions. His own breath seemed deafening, the only sound in the quiet room. Finally his hand clasped on the cold cylinder of shining metal. A shiver of relief was almost painful. It took a second to unscrew the capsule and swallow thick, tar-black fluid.

The taste coating his tongue was vile; Severus shuddered again, gathering saliva to swallow the residuals. But his body was under control again - his vision cleared, his hands steady and nimble. He took a deep breath, relishing the rare comfort, the absence of pain; then moved to the cauldron again, adding exact measure of the powder. The liquid boiled up, changing the colour, and he put out the fire.

Perhaps if Lucius had been somewhere near, it wouldn't have been such a bad idea to let everything go boom, Severus thought wryly. The bastard deserved it, in Merlin's name... didn't Severus warn him he should have stopped? Of course, Severus could do something more than just warning him - it was not like Lucius held him by force... not all the time, anyway. So, the blame was really his own - he should have hated himself for the results.

What's new? He already hated himself enough for everything.

The day behind the window was so grey; and the wards lay so thick that the picture was slightly distorted, like though a haze. Severus stopped at the window, arms crossed on his chest, looking at the scenery in front of him that was almost surreal in its ugliness.

He remembered this place looking different; scarred by the previous war - but still not so barren. There used to be small groves and low sloping hills, covered in bright green, slippery grass that was so cosy to sit on but left horrible indelible stains on his and Lucius' pants, bringing Lucius' mother to tears.

She was such a gentle, sweet woman, Lucius' mother; Severus still missed her sometimes. She'd managed to be born and die between the wars - and her softness was never ruined. Lucius - and Severus - were not so lucky.

Outside, a Muggle stopped working, straightened, looking up, turning his face to the jets of the rain. From here Severus couldn't discern his expression, just saw the terrible tiredness of the pose. It was the idea that someone could be resting, probably enjoying the hitting streams of rain that made Severus shiver involuntarily.

No raindrop had ever touched his skin. It was during the Fifth Wizards' War when they had tampered with the weather. Since then the precipitation that fell from the sky was turned into slow poison for wizards, destroying their abilities and their bodies.

There were enough dangerous things in life to risk another one by exposing himself to the rain. But sometimes Severus still wondered how it felt, those drops hitting his face, trickles sliding over his lips and closed eyelids. Would it be cold or warm, how would it smell...

Idle questions; he shouldn't have wasted his time for them. The new batch of explosives was not bottled yet - and Lucius would want...

Sod it; he didn't care what Lucius wanted. Lucius wasn't even in the camp now - was on one of his crazy sorties, with his equally crazy thugs. Those outings usually ended in more dead Muggles than Severus cared to know about - in driving those who stayed alive even further into hiding - and in bringing, occasionally, a few new slaves along.

Lucius called it "man-hunt" and swore it was a much better entertainment that the one his ancestors had enjoyed. Sometimes Severus wished Lucius never came back from one of those "hunts".

Well, not this time, apparently. In the thickness of the rain, a massive shadow of the flying pod appeared soundlessly, approaching the house.

The figures clad in grey rubberised cloaks, their faces completely covered with protective masks - looked ghostly, almost merging into the sheet of rain. Poor Muggles, Severus thought coldly. No wonder the sight scared them out of their minds - the words "Death Eaters" never pronounced in their houses, just like wizards themselves avoided saying the name of the current Dark Lord - "You-Know-Who" for those on Dumbledore's side and "His Majesty" for their side.

The pod barely stopped as a tall figure jumped down, mud splashing from under narrow-nosed, expensive boots. There was no need to see Lucius' face to recognise him.

Severus felt cold knots twisting in his stomach, felt deep ache rise throbbing in his temples. He didn't have to feel it - should've had more control than allowing himself to drown in disgust and self-pity.

What did he become that he had to remind himself of it? Well, some questions were better left unanswered.

He saw the tall Death Eater look at his window - notice him - raise a gloved hand in a greeting gesture. Two fingers pointed at the pod then - other Death Eaters still clustered around it, obviously guarding someone.

New Muggles to be broken and then put to work in the estate. Lucius called for him to share his triumph.

Severus shrugged, not particularly willing to go outside - but the blind, trained part of him that never - *never* - disobeyed any order from his superior and lover already made him move, put on the heavy protective cloak and mask, walk down the stairs.

* * *

The Death Eaters were still beside the pod as Severus approached - and Lucius strolled towards him lightly. It seemed he wasn't even tired after the trip that lasted since the early morning; but, maybe, it was exactly the impression he tried to create. His arm wrapped around Severus' shoulders easily, intimately.

"I know you're too lazy to come out, most of the time." The voice was distorted by the respiratory tube but there still were clear sparkles of laughter in it. "But I piqued your interest, didn't I? You won't regret it, Severus dear, when you see what we brought along."

Through the double layer of rubberised cloth he barely could feel Lucius' touch. And even in the way Lucius called him there was nothing special, he told himself - he heard Malfoy calling Avery "Emeric dear" and McNair "Walden dear" on some occasions. He still felt like recoiling.

Of course, he didn't; it was his nerves to blame, Severus told himself, frayed so thin that he got skittish. Lucius' fault, again - Severus told him there were just as many times one could go through Cruciatus without consequences. Lucius never listened.

"But you like it, Severus dear - I know you do."

And the truth was that yes... maybe, he did like it.

"You'll like it... you'll like him," Lucius said, leaning on his shoulder, almost whispering in his ear - in a friendly manner... because they were such good friends, you know...

Lucius' embrace led him up to the pod - and Severus looked, curious despite himself, into the barred compartment used for keeping slaves.

There was only one now - a thin man curled on his side in the puddles of water on the floor. Severus couldn't feel how cold the air was - but come on, it was late October, it had to be cold - even their Muggle workers wore warm jackets now. The man had no jacket or coat, just a thin, completely soaked shirt that probably used to be white but was brown with dirt now and richly streaked with blood.

The wards were heavy, pinning the man down to the wet surface, virtually preventing him from moving a finger, barely letting him breath - and suddenly Severus realised that the tingling sensation seeping through those wards was the power of the other.

The man wasn't a Muggle; this sortie gained Lucius a captive wizard.

"A lucky day for us," someone - probably Crabbe - said laughing.

"And a very unlucky for the side of 'Light'." Sarcasm in Lucius' voice was mixed with complacency. "It's their problem, though."

"I couldn't believe the little fool actually got into it defending those stupid Muggles," Crabbe moved his beefy shoulders as if in bewilderment.

"I would say it'd teach him to mind his own business - but I don't think he'll have a chance to use this lesson."

With a graceful motion the wand slid into Lucius' hand from its sheath, making Severus feel a brief pang of envy. He never could learn to move so smoothly and elegantly; but then again... it was what Lucius could do and he, Severus, couldn't that kept him so well bound to Lucius.

"Finite Incantatem."

Severus saw how the man's thin chest fluttered wildly as the weight of spells was taken off. The wands of other Death Eaters were trained on him, in case if he tried something crazy. He probably couldn't, though - was too tired of his struggles for breath.

And he had no protection from the rain. Severus had a strange feeling as he realised that the captive wizard was soaking under the rain - had probably been soaking for an hour or two by now. Likely, it hurt - the cursed fluid eating into him like acid. How long did it take for one exposed to the rain or snow to turn to a squib first - and then to die? Severus knew there were experiments like this - the results varied, the curse was apparently alleviating with decades. As far as he recalled, the latest data indicated something between seven and fifteen hours.

Not that it mattered. The man was going to die anyway - and apparently in a much more gruesome manner than the rain could cause.

"Get up." Lucius stood next to the pod, looking at the crouching figure. "Now. Don't give me a reason to hurt you."

"Give me a reason to hurt you, Severus..." Velvety voice that caressed like a warm touch against exposed skin echoed in Severus' mind - the images of Lucius in all his glory, without the disgusting mask - half-naked, silvery-blond hair falling over silvery-grey eyes - flooded him. "Oh the other hand... I don't need a reason, right, Severus? Apart from me wanting it - and you wanting it..."

A bright, blinding arch of pain twisting his body... He clenched his fists, willing the memories away.

On the pod, the wizard awkwardly rose on his knees and then pulled himself up, using the bars of the compartment.

He must've taken enough hexes and curses to feel groggy; and probably a few of his bones were broken - the Death Eaters sometimes enjoyed direct contact with their captives.

He wasn't even an adult, Severus thought distantly, looking at the thin soggy figure leaning against the rails. Well, during the wartime the legal age was lowered to fourteen - so, technically the boy *was* an adult - probably sixteen or seventeen. He just didn't look like one to Severus; and it was so long since he'd been sixteen - it seemed like another life for him: everything had been so different then; *he* had been so different. So... not innocent - Severus had never been innocent - but so trusting; so sure that there was something worth expecting in his life - that some day he would have everything he wanted.

Now he didn't even know if he wanted anything at all.

He didn't have illusions about the boy's integrity either; come on, they were in the middle of the war - and those on the side of 'Light' gave as good as they got. It was just that he would prefer to see the face of an adult man now - tired, caked with grime and so pale - of someone who would die at least knowing what for he was dying.

"He attacked us when we took sport with those Muggles in the village," behind Severus, Crabbe told excitedly, apparently to the Death Eaters who stayed in the camp and now joined. "At first we didn't even figured where he came from! He had an invisible cloak on. But then McNair managed to knock him down - and the rest was easy... We made him watch while we finished with those Muggles... there was one girl, I almost wish we left her alive..."

The boy shuddered slightly - Severus didn't know if it was because of Crabbe's words that reached him or if the pain bothered him. His dirty hand with split, battered knuckles rose, pushing soggy hair away from his face - and Severus found himself looking into grass-green, myopic eyes.

"Crucio," Lucius said casually. And for a split second, before Severus saw the boy slump back on the floor, writhing in convulsions, a harsh keening sound breaking through his teeth - he tensed in desperate readiness to go through the pain that was unbearable.

Next to him, Lucius laughed softly - and Severus knew that somehow Lucius noticed his fear and understood it.

To be continued