Disclaimer: I don't own anything or anyone. I don't make any money by
doing this. It is purely for fun.
Author's Note: I hereby officially apologize for making everyone wait so long. Yes, I know it's been ages since I updated. Thank you for the *cough* reminders.
Voldemort cared little about the conditions that his prisoners had to endure during the time that he held them in his dungeons. The cell that Snape had been unceremoniously thrown into was cold, damp, filthy, depressingly dark, and only added to his empty feeling of helplessness. And feeling helpless made him angry.
Sitting just outside the cell, keeping guard, Lucius Malfoy looked up as Snape paused in his recitation of every profanity he knew and pulled his knees up to his chest, trying to keep warm. The gray stones that he leaned back against seemed to drain the warmth from his body, leaving only an icy chill of growing dread around his heart.
Malfoy smiled when he saw the other wizard shiver ever so slightly. "Cold?" he asked with a sneer. Snape lifted his head to glare at him and proceeded to call the Death Eater a variety of vulgar names in different languages.
Malfoy just laughed. "You'll regret that," he said, his silver eyes dark with victory. Snape decided to ignore him, and pulled closer to the corner that he had chosen. It wasn't any warmer or comfortable than the other three corners, but he liked to think, no imagine was a better word, he liked to imagine it was cleaner.
Malfoy, hardly caring that he had lost his audience, continued to gloat over Snape's capture. Snape growled a comment once in a while, breaking into Lucius's monologue, but otherwise remained silent. He had more pressing matters to occupy his mind than thinking up insults that would only serve to amuse the older Death Eater.
After pretending to be completely absorbed with the pattern of stones on the cell floor for a few minutes, Snape, peering through his eyelashes, checked on his guard.
Malfoy, still bloody talking, was turned away from him, leaning against the wall and waiting for someone to come down with new orders.
Slowly, so to avoid attracting Malfoy's attention or suspicion, Snape slipped his hand up his sleeve and retrieved the little bottle that he had hidden in the folds of the black material. The tiny bottle fit neatly into his palm and was hidden easily by closing his hand.
Though he didn't want to risk a chance looking at it, Snape knew the phial held a translucent red liquid; a potion of his own recent experiments and research.
Snape shifted uncomfortably against the cold stone wall. Out side the cell, Malfoy continued to prattle loudly about the reward he would receive for being the person who brought Severus Dumbledore to Voldemort to be branded at the age of nineteen, barely a full year out of Hogwarts and stupidly impressionable.
It was almost funny, the irony of it all. Here Lucius Malfoy was expecting a reward, and all he'd be getting would be pain and torture when his prisoner died on his watch. Snape had purposely made the poison quick acting in case someone should notice and try to revive him. Hopefully, it would be painless. From the components of the mixture and tests on rats, it, in theory, would be.
Still, Snape hesitated from drinking the potion in its natural form. Truth be told, he absolutely abhorred the idea of being Volemort's pawn to get at his father, but then suicide had never exactly been high on his 'things to do' list. However, logically, if he hadn't actually thought about it, seriously thought about it, he would have taken on the project of creating the potion in the first place.
It didn't help any that, even though the dungeon was everything an evil Dark Lord could want, the cell the Snape had been placed in was utterly void of rats or other small prison mammals. That ruled out plan B.
It pained his heart, cold and logical as it was, to think of how his father would take his death. It was his deepest wish not to cause the wizard any more grief, but what choice did he have?
A sudden idea flashed through Snape's mind in the middle of his brooding and he looked up quickly. His guard was still talking loudly about the pain to be suffered when the Dark Lord had a moment to spare.
Snape's eyes flickered to the elder Malfoy and then back to the potion concealed in his hand. It was a crazy idea, but it might work. With great care, Snape unfolded himself from the dark corner and, without making a single tell tale sound, slunk over to the bared door of the cell.
***
Every Death Eater in Voldemort's castle, excluding his prisoner and guard, had assembled in the main room so that they might be present when Dumbledore arrived.
Dumbledore's appearance in the room brought a sudden hush over the occupants. A few of the Death Eaters moved nervously in the background as they watched the tall wizard calmly observe his surroundings. Then a few whispers started, then more; whispers among the Death Eaters and jeers at Dumbledore. The old wizard didn't seem so omnipotent now.
Dumbledore for his part, refused to acknowledge the men and women in black who began to form a half circle at his back. He kept his eyes trained forward and on the one who held his son's life in his too cruel spidery hands. Dumbledore lifted his chin in a defiant gesture characteristic of his son. He intended to perform this deadly dance with some scrap of his pride and dignity.
Voldemort sneered at the older wizard from his seat and stood gracefully, the black robe he wore surrounding him like an extra shadow that bespoke of impending doom. "Albus Dumbledore," the Dark Wizard purred as he moved forward to meet his former teacher.
This was what he had been waiting for. He could have easily killed his prisoner, waited for Dumbledore to show up, and then kill him too, but this was a better way. It made for a more satisfying revenge; to bring the illustrious wizard down by using the man's greatest weakness against him. It was truly a moment of triumph for Lord Voldemort.
Dumbledore inclined his silvered head slightly, acknowledging Voldemort's presence, but not giving any authority. To do so would be to invite death and defeat. Instead, Dumbledore held his calm blue gaze steady, his sharp eyes never leaving the narrow, evil face. "Tom," he finally said simply, breaking the locked silence, "I believe you have something of mine."
Voldemort's face broke into a twisted seer. "Yours," he hissed, wanting to laugh at the pompous allegation, "You abandoned him, just like my father," he spat out the bitter word, "did me. You have no right to call him yours." Voldemort saw the quick look of pain flash through Dumbledore's eyes and knew that he had hit a sore spot. The Dark Lord smiled, taking pleasure in the other wizard's distress. "Severus belongs to me," Voldemort announced confidently. His to let live, or to kill at his convince.
Dumbledore's eyes narrowed and he folded his arms across his chest, all the emotions he had been trying to hide from view breaking through every barrier. "Mine," he snapped, his eyes flashing dangerously, "He is my child. No claim you can make will ever, ever change that. Severus will always be mine." The unspoken challenge hung in the air between them, waiting, suspended.
Voldemort watched the older wizard for a moment, and when Dumbledore didn't attempt to gather himself, the Dark Lord smiled, such a cold, thin smile. Dumbledore was thinking and acting with his heart. Voldemort couldn't have planned it better. The wizard had signed his own death sentence. "Would you give your life, to save his?"
Dumbledore nodded immediately. He had expected the ultimatum and was ready to accept it. A life given for a life saved. Gruesome arithmetic of the Devil. "Yes."
Voldemort glided closer, his followers inching forward to hear him. "Then prove it," the Dark Lord whispered.
Dumbledore glared at him. "Do not think me stupid, Tom. I will watch you send Severus back first." He was not about to give the Dark Lord a loophole where he could send Snape back to Hogwarts, dying but technically still alive for the moment, and then claim that he had followed through with his part of the bargain.
Voldemort's fiery eyes flashed in annoyance. He was the one in charge, the one with the power over the situation, not Dumbledore. "You are not in a position to be making demands," Voldemort snapped.
A slow, dangerous smile appeared on Dumbledore face. "Just because I came without a wand doesn't mean that I'm unarmed," he said. A sudden and fierce chilling wind like the breath of death whirled through the hall, swirling the Headmaster's robe and making the torch flames dance crazily as they were threatened with being snuffed out. A frightened Death Eater in back cried out in alarm.
The wind left as quickly as it had appeared, but still left an ominous feeling in the room, like skeletal fingers creeping forward to caress the nape of your neck. Voldemort's followers had begun to eye Dumbledore wearily. "There are ancient magicks that you know nothing about," Dumbledore lectured the Dark Lord sharply, as if the evil wizard was still his student, "You would be wise to remember that before you threaten me with Severus's life."
Voldemort scowled, irked that any of the situation should slip beyond his control. He whirled on the two nearest Death Eaters, who snapped to attention. "Go get the prisoner," he growled.
The two Death Eaters quickly scurried off to do as their master bid them and returned shortly, dragging Snape along by the heavy, cold iron chains they had locked around his wrists. The Potions Master was putting up a valiant attempt to hinder their efforts in forcing him along, but was undeniably losing the struggle.
Voldemort took Snape's chains and arranged the glowering man in front of him as security. Snape shuddered and tried to pull away, only to be forcibly held in place as Voldemort secured an arm around his waist.
Dumbledore, a mix of anger and fear for his child playing out on his face, made a small start forward.
Voldemort, at once taking the sudden movement as a sign of attack, pulled Snape closer against him and held his wand against the Potion Master's pale throat. "Not another step, Dumbledore," Voldemort hissed, twisting the tip of his wand into the vulnerable pulse point and causing a thin dribble of blood to flow down Snape's neck, "or he dies."
Dumbledore froze at once and closed his eyes for a second. "Let him go, Tom," he whispered. His eyes opened again, resignation and determination emanating from the mysterious blue depths. "I will surrender. Just, let him go."
Voldemort sneered at the plea. How he was going to enjoy killing the old wizard. As for losing Snape, he'd just have a team pick him up later when he was out of the sanctuary of Hogwarts. Voldemort was about to accept Dumbledore's submission, when the air in the room suddenly seemed charged with lightening.
"Expelliarmus Totalus!" a voice roared from somewhere behind the circle of Death Eaters that had been watching the proceedings so intently. Voldemort was shocked to have his wand, along with every wand of his minions, yanked away by an invisible hand. The Death Eaters, now unarmed, parted fearfully to let their Lord see the caster of the spell.
Surrounded by pieces of wands shattered at the force of his spell, Voldemort's own wand captured in his left hand, and still another wand in the other, was Snape. His gem like eyes were cold and determined and the small sliver charm resting against his chest stood out brilliantly against his black garments. The Death Eaters scattered quickly out of his way as he approached.
Snape placed a thin, pale hand on a shocked Dumbledore's shoulder for a second to reassure the older wizard and then turned his full attention on the fuming Dark Lord. "Sir," Snape said, his voice dripping with mockery as he took in the situation. "You might want to let go of Lucius. He's starting to look blue."
Voldemort barred his teeth at Snape but loosened his hold on the neck of the person in front of him who, now released, stood quietly, his eyes blank. All former struggle was gone and he seemed to be awaiting new orders.
Snape folded his arms across his chest, looking quite pleased with himself. "Amazing potion really," he drawled, "One of my own experiments. It can be used as a quick acting poison," next to him Dumbledore looked startled, but Snape continued on as if he hadn't noticed,
"Or a kind of Polyjuice Potion, if a mammal hair is added. Only, it's adapted for not only human transformation, but animal too. Unfortunately, once the hair is added, the potion must be taken within five minutes, or it won't work. It has a long shelf life, as a poison, and takes less than half the time that is required to brew the Polyjuice Potion." Snape shrugged his thin shoulders. "A back door to those in my kind of position. Able to offer a chance to live, or a quick death. Whichever is needed."
Voldemort only stared at him, surprise giving way to slight embarrassment and dark, frothing rage. A red haze was clouding his vision and he wanted to kill something. Dumbledore and his impertinent brat, preferably.
"Next time you have an important prisoner," Snape hissed, dropping his pleasanter tone, "You might want to place more than one inept guard on watch duty." With a quick wave from the wand he had stolen from Malfoy, Snape released the Imperius Curse and Malfoy shook his head, his eyes clearing as control of his body was returned to him.
Uncertainly, Malfoy looked around and then his eyes, currently the Dumbledore blue, fastened on Snape and his face flushed a dark red in sheer fury as he remembered what had happened. "You, you filthy fucking bastard! I'm going to." Malfory was cut off abruptly as Snape cast another spell, taking away his voice.
"I'd rather not hear myself insult me," Snape growled as Malfoy seethed in silence. Then he raised the wand to Dark Lord. "Now, sir," he began conversationally, "I want the dark mark off."
Voldemort was taken aback for a moment at the calm declaration and then laughed. Of all the pointless pleas made by his victims before he killed them, this was by far the most fantastic. "Never."
Oddly, Snape didn't seemed upset at his outright refusal and simply shrugged. "You will remove it," he returned calmly, "Or I will kill you."
Voldemort narrowed his red eyes at the young wizard in front of him, wondering if there was any honesty in his cool remark. Snape held his gaze evenly. Then Voldemort sneered. "You, young Dumbledore," he said, mocking the name, "You don't have the nerve to do it."
Snape's eyes sparkled with some unreadable emotion. Without breaking eye contact, he brought the stolen wand in his right hand down sharply. "Crucio," he hissed and watched unemotionally as Malfoy went down in a fit of silent pain and twitching.
Snape held the curse for a few seconds and then lifted it, leaving Malfoy gasping for air. Snape whipped the wand back up at Voldemort. "You forget," he whispered, "I am a Slytherin."
"The way I see it is," Snape added, twirling one of the wands idly in his hand, "If you remove the mark, I am rid of it forever and you are in no way disadvantaged. If you make me kill you, you are out of power for another decade or so, making your followers doubt your strength even more while I am rid of both you and the mark for that time while you are powerless. True, if you return to power again, I am still branded. I have already performed two out of three forbidden curses tonight so the paramount question is," he aimed the wand steadily at Voldemort's chest, at the Dark Wizard's hellish heart. "Do I make it three for three?"
The room was silent for a long minute and then Voldemort laughed. He had underestimated the young wizard this time. It would not happen again. "You certainly are a Slytherin," he purred, "Are you sure this is what you want?"
Snape glared at him. "Ambition," he snapped, "Means that you will do or sacrifice anything to achieve what you desire. I never wanted power or wealth or prestige or fame or any of that. My whole life, my greatest ambition was to find my family and make them regret abandoning me by being exactly what they wanted." He shook his head, a sad sort of ironic smile touching his lips and he spared a glance back at his father. "I did not turn out perfect, far from it. But I have found my family, and I will be damned before I give that up."
Voldemort sneered. Unquestionably a Slytherin, and yet still definitely a Dumbledore. "My wand back, and I will remove you from my ranks."
Snape held out his left arm, exposing the grisly mark blazed on his white forearm. "Free me first," he demanded. Voldemort, his teeth bared, hissed out a spell and Snape gasped softly in pain as a green vapor rose from his skin and vanished, leaving his arm an unsoiled, pale color.
Snape inspected his arm, nodded, and then chucked the wand forward, aiming over the Dark Lord's shoulder. But Voldemort was fast and with a quick turn, caught it in mid air. With a triumphant cry, he turned the point on Dumbledore and his son, intending to kill them both with one spell, and was just in time to see the older wizard clutch the younger against him and disappear from the room.
Furious, Voldemort turned to see Malfoy, still looking identical to Snape because of the potion, cower back from him. "Lucius," Voldemort hissed, turning towards the pathetic excuse for a man, "Come here. I want to talk to you."
***
McGonagall looked down at her wand, the thing clasped tightly in her hands, when she heard a distinct pop that accompanied those who have apparated. She wasn't sure she wanted to know which one of them had returned. Not knowing gave her a clinging hope that they would both be returned alive and in one piece.
That was not to say, that waiting wasn't hell in itself. Minutes stretch on for hours, but in the end, don't last long enough.
The forest had been quiet while they had anticipated the activation of the portkey and the Headmaster's departure. No one said anything, though every once in a while, Miss Granger would get an odd look on her face, as if she were trying to figure something out. After Dumbledore had left, the silence among those remaining had become deafening.
Finally, not knowing becoming too difficult a battle, McGonagall forced her eyes up and gasped in delighted surprise. Standing a little ways apart from the group were the Headmaster and his son, both looking, Merlin be praised, very much alive.
Snape pushed out of the Headmaster's hold, his whole body radiating fury. "What the hell do you think you were doing?"
Dumbledore folded his arms across his chest and peered over his glasses at the angry wizard. "I think I was saving your life, Severus."
From the group of onlookers, Hagrid suddenly became very pale under his black beard. Nearby, Hermione, a wild light in her eyes, was fidgeting around. Finally, unable to contain herself, she turned to the person nearest her, Black, and pulled on his sleeve, drawing him down to her level and whispered her revelation to him. Black looked over at the two arguing wizards and his eyes became very large. A strange sort of strangled noise came out of his throat, and then he fainted.
Snape and Dumbledore continued on as if they hadn't noticed the group watching them.
"Saving my life!?" Snape screeched, incredulous. "He was going to kill you. Do you understand that?"
Dumbledore nodded, his patience wearing thin. "Of course I do. My life for yours." He caught Snape face and held the man still. "I could not have lived with myself if I let you die," Dumbledore said, softer this time, "Do you understand?"
Snape wrenched away. "Do you understand, sir," he snapped back, "That I would not have been able to live with myself if you had taken my place?" He threw his hand up into the air, "Do you know the number of people that have died because of me, even if indirectly?" He began ticking off names and stopped abruptly when he had used both hands and glared accusingly. "Hell you could even count the two men sent to Azkaban for 'killing me' as dead because of me."
Snape shook his head, his blue eyes obstinate. "I will not allow anyone, you included, to die for me," he added with a hiss. "Have you any idea what kind of living Hell my poor excuse for a life would become? To be the person who caused your death? I would be, if it is even possible, hated more for that than anything I've done. People count on you, look up to you. You do not betray that trust by getting killed for one evil, ugly Slytherin." He turned away from the Headmaster with an angry huff. "Maybe it would have been better if I were never born at all."
Dumbledore took hold of Snape's shoulders and forced him back around. "Never say that," he spat out, his eyes boring into those of his son's. Then he gathered the wizard into his arms, holding him protectively. "Never say that," he whispered fiercely.
Snape regretted what he had said. His mouth had a habit of opening before his mind could catch up. He had upset his father with his careless words. That he honestly regretted. "I'm sorry," Snape finally said, barely raising his voice enough for the Headmaster to hear.
"I know. I am too," Dumbledore answered, hushing the younger wizard when he tried to protest that the Headmaster had nothing to apologize for.
At last, Dumbledore reluctantly loosened his hold on his child, shed his cloak, and placed it on the younger wizard whose protest went ignored. After making sure that the clasp was secure the Headmaster gently nudged Snape forward. "Let's go," he said.
Snape blinked, visibly startled. Sputtering, his mind raced for a logical protest. "I can't go back like, like this!" He made a vague gesture towards his face and hair, "My students-"
"Will only find out the truth from those who have Death Eater parents," Dumbledore said. Snape frowned. Dumbledore added, with a slightly chiding tone, "They will appreciate hearing the truth from you first."
Snape scowled, more annoyed with himself for not being able to come up with a good excuse quick enough. "And what would you know about telling the truth?" he asked the Headmaster nastily.
Dumbledore just smiled and gave the reluctant wizard a little push to get him moving. "That's enough from you," he said, cutting into Snape's stalling.
Snape managed to look thoroughly insulted. "What? It's not like anyone listens to me anyway."
Dumbledore nodded in agreement. "Of course they don't, Severus. You're obnoxious and disliked." It was rare indeed, when someone other than himself would ask for the Potion Master's opinion. Snape, of course, had combated this situation early on by giving his opinion freely and without being asked.
Snape tried to look irritated, but finally shook his head. "Well, at least things are consistent." Dumbledore had now managed to move Snape a few feet forward. Snape's eyes suddenly narrowed as he saw the group watching them. "What are they doing here," he demanded, scowling at the Headmaster and pointing to the three Gryffindor students.
Dumbledore looked over his glasses at the students, who had the grace to look embarrassed. "I don't know, I told them to go back to their rooms," he answered. Hermione dropped her head in shame.
Snape rolled his eyes. "Just great," he muttered, folding his arms across his chest in a decided sulk.
Dumbledore nodded kindly to McGonagall. "Get them back to their rooms, Minerva," he said. McGonagall, snapping back into teacher mode, nodded and moved closer to her charges. Dumbledore put a kind hand on his son's shoulder, a gesture that wasn't, to his comfort, shaken off. "Come Severus," he said gently, "I'll take you home."
***
TBC
SEE? I updated (Dear Merlin! I updated!). TBC does mean To Be Continued. Only one more chapter left.
Author's Note: Justifying Snape's use of the Unforgivables. As a friend of mine pointed out to me, Snape was a Death Eater at one time. He would have used the curses. And during his time as a willing participant, he would have seen (and most likely done) some terrible things. Here he used the curses in an effort to protect his own life and also his father's. He may not like using them, but he can justify the use.
Baby Disclaimer: The line recognized from the movie and play 1776 is not my own.
Looking ahead: Severus's mother will not be part of this story. She is, however, a major part in the (yet unnamed) sequel.
Author's Note: I hereby officially apologize for making everyone wait so long. Yes, I know it's been ages since I updated. Thank you for the *cough* reminders.
Voldemort cared little about the conditions that his prisoners had to endure during the time that he held them in his dungeons. The cell that Snape had been unceremoniously thrown into was cold, damp, filthy, depressingly dark, and only added to his empty feeling of helplessness. And feeling helpless made him angry.
Sitting just outside the cell, keeping guard, Lucius Malfoy looked up as Snape paused in his recitation of every profanity he knew and pulled his knees up to his chest, trying to keep warm. The gray stones that he leaned back against seemed to drain the warmth from his body, leaving only an icy chill of growing dread around his heart.
Malfoy smiled when he saw the other wizard shiver ever so slightly. "Cold?" he asked with a sneer. Snape lifted his head to glare at him and proceeded to call the Death Eater a variety of vulgar names in different languages.
Malfoy just laughed. "You'll regret that," he said, his silver eyes dark with victory. Snape decided to ignore him, and pulled closer to the corner that he had chosen. It wasn't any warmer or comfortable than the other three corners, but he liked to think, no imagine was a better word, he liked to imagine it was cleaner.
Malfoy, hardly caring that he had lost his audience, continued to gloat over Snape's capture. Snape growled a comment once in a while, breaking into Lucius's monologue, but otherwise remained silent. He had more pressing matters to occupy his mind than thinking up insults that would only serve to amuse the older Death Eater.
After pretending to be completely absorbed with the pattern of stones on the cell floor for a few minutes, Snape, peering through his eyelashes, checked on his guard.
Malfoy, still bloody talking, was turned away from him, leaning against the wall and waiting for someone to come down with new orders.
Slowly, so to avoid attracting Malfoy's attention or suspicion, Snape slipped his hand up his sleeve and retrieved the little bottle that he had hidden in the folds of the black material. The tiny bottle fit neatly into his palm and was hidden easily by closing his hand.
Though he didn't want to risk a chance looking at it, Snape knew the phial held a translucent red liquid; a potion of his own recent experiments and research.
Snape shifted uncomfortably against the cold stone wall. Out side the cell, Malfoy continued to prattle loudly about the reward he would receive for being the person who brought Severus Dumbledore to Voldemort to be branded at the age of nineteen, barely a full year out of Hogwarts and stupidly impressionable.
It was almost funny, the irony of it all. Here Lucius Malfoy was expecting a reward, and all he'd be getting would be pain and torture when his prisoner died on his watch. Snape had purposely made the poison quick acting in case someone should notice and try to revive him. Hopefully, it would be painless. From the components of the mixture and tests on rats, it, in theory, would be.
Still, Snape hesitated from drinking the potion in its natural form. Truth be told, he absolutely abhorred the idea of being Volemort's pawn to get at his father, but then suicide had never exactly been high on his 'things to do' list. However, logically, if he hadn't actually thought about it, seriously thought about it, he would have taken on the project of creating the potion in the first place.
It didn't help any that, even though the dungeon was everything an evil Dark Lord could want, the cell the Snape had been placed in was utterly void of rats or other small prison mammals. That ruled out plan B.
It pained his heart, cold and logical as it was, to think of how his father would take his death. It was his deepest wish not to cause the wizard any more grief, but what choice did he have?
A sudden idea flashed through Snape's mind in the middle of his brooding and he looked up quickly. His guard was still talking loudly about the pain to be suffered when the Dark Lord had a moment to spare.
Snape's eyes flickered to the elder Malfoy and then back to the potion concealed in his hand. It was a crazy idea, but it might work. With great care, Snape unfolded himself from the dark corner and, without making a single tell tale sound, slunk over to the bared door of the cell.
***
Every Death Eater in Voldemort's castle, excluding his prisoner and guard, had assembled in the main room so that they might be present when Dumbledore arrived.
Dumbledore's appearance in the room brought a sudden hush over the occupants. A few of the Death Eaters moved nervously in the background as they watched the tall wizard calmly observe his surroundings. Then a few whispers started, then more; whispers among the Death Eaters and jeers at Dumbledore. The old wizard didn't seem so omnipotent now.
Dumbledore for his part, refused to acknowledge the men and women in black who began to form a half circle at his back. He kept his eyes trained forward and on the one who held his son's life in his too cruel spidery hands. Dumbledore lifted his chin in a defiant gesture characteristic of his son. He intended to perform this deadly dance with some scrap of his pride and dignity.
Voldemort sneered at the older wizard from his seat and stood gracefully, the black robe he wore surrounding him like an extra shadow that bespoke of impending doom. "Albus Dumbledore," the Dark Wizard purred as he moved forward to meet his former teacher.
This was what he had been waiting for. He could have easily killed his prisoner, waited for Dumbledore to show up, and then kill him too, but this was a better way. It made for a more satisfying revenge; to bring the illustrious wizard down by using the man's greatest weakness against him. It was truly a moment of triumph for Lord Voldemort.
Dumbledore inclined his silvered head slightly, acknowledging Voldemort's presence, but not giving any authority. To do so would be to invite death and defeat. Instead, Dumbledore held his calm blue gaze steady, his sharp eyes never leaving the narrow, evil face. "Tom," he finally said simply, breaking the locked silence, "I believe you have something of mine."
Voldemort's face broke into a twisted seer. "Yours," he hissed, wanting to laugh at the pompous allegation, "You abandoned him, just like my father," he spat out the bitter word, "did me. You have no right to call him yours." Voldemort saw the quick look of pain flash through Dumbledore's eyes and knew that he had hit a sore spot. The Dark Lord smiled, taking pleasure in the other wizard's distress. "Severus belongs to me," Voldemort announced confidently. His to let live, or to kill at his convince.
Dumbledore's eyes narrowed and he folded his arms across his chest, all the emotions he had been trying to hide from view breaking through every barrier. "Mine," he snapped, his eyes flashing dangerously, "He is my child. No claim you can make will ever, ever change that. Severus will always be mine." The unspoken challenge hung in the air between them, waiting, suspended.
Voldemort watched the older wizard for a moment, and when Dumbledore didn't attempt to gather himself, the Dark Lord smiled, such a cold, thin smile. Dumbledore was thinking and acting with his heart. Voldemort couldn't have planned it better. The wizard had signed his own death sentence. "Would you give your life, to save his?"
Dumbledore nodded immediately. He had expected the ultimatum and was ready to accept it. A life given for a life saved. Gruesome arithmetic of the Devil. "Yes."
Voldemort glided closer, his followers inching forward to hear him. "Then prove it," the Dark Lord whispered.
Dumbledore glared at him. "Do not think me stupid, Tom. I will watch you send Severus back first." He was not about to give the Dark Lord a loophole where he could send Snape back to Hogwarts, dying but technically still alive for the moment, and then claim that he had followed through with his part of the bargain.
Voldemort's fiery eyes flashed in annoyance. He was the one in charge, the one with the power over the situation, not Dumbledore. "You are not in a position to be making demands," Voldemort snapped.
A slow, dangerous smile appeared on Dumbledore face. "Just because I came without a wand doesn't mean that I'm unarmed," he said. A sudden and fierce chilling wind like the breath of death whirled through the hall, swirling the Headmaster's robe and making the torch flames dance crazily as they were threatened with being snuffed out. A frightened Death Eater in back cried out in alarm.
The wind left as quickly as it had appeared, but still left an ominous feeling in the room, like skeletal fingers creeping forward to caress the nape of your neck. Voldemort's followers had begun to eye Dumbledore wearily. "There are ancient magicks that you know nothing about," Dumbledore lectured the Dark Lord sharply, as if the evil wizard was still his student, "You would be wise to remember that before you threaten me with Severus's life."
Voldemort scowled, irked that any of the situation should slip beyond his control. He whirled on the two nearest Death Eaters, who snapped to attention. "Go get the prisoner," he growled.
The two Death Eaters quickly scurried off to do as their master bid them and returned shortly, dragging Snape along by the heavy, cold iron chains they had locked around his wrists. The Potions Master was putting up a valiant attempt to hinder their efforts in forcing him along, but was undeniably losing the struggle.
Voldemort took Snape's chains and arranged the glowering man in front of him as security. Snape shuddered and tried to pull away, only to be forcibly held in place as Voldemort secured an arm around his waist.
Dumbledore, a mix of anger and fear for his child playing out on his face, made a small start forward.
Voldemort, at once taking the sudden movement as a sign of attack, pulled Snape closer against him and held his wand against the Potion Master's pale throat. "Not another step, Dumbledore," Voldemort hissed, twisting the tip of his wand into the vulnerable pulse point and causing a thin dribble of blood to flow down Snape's neck, "or he dies."
Dumbledore froze at once and closed his eyes for a second. "Let him go, Tom," he whispered. His eyes opened again, resignation and determination emanating from the mysterious blue depths. "I will surrender. Just, let him go."
Voldemort sneered at the plea. How he was going to enjoy killing the old wizard. As for losing Snape, he'd just have a team pick him up later when he was out of the sanctuary of Hogwarts. Voldemort was about to accept Dumbledore's submission, when the air in the room suddenly seemed charged with lightening.
"Expelliarmus Totalus!" a voice roared from somewhere behind the circle of Death Eaters that had been watching the proceedings so intently. Voldemort was shocked to have his wand, along with every wand of his minions, yanked away by an invisible hand. The Death Eaters, now unarmed, parted fearfully to let their Lord see the caster of the spell.
Surrounded by pieces of wands shattered at the force of his spell, Voldemort's own wand captured in his left hand, and still another wand in the other, was Snape. His gem like eyes were cold and determined and the small sliver charm resting against his chest stood out brilliantly against his black garments. The Death Eaters scattered quickly out of his way as he approached.
Snape placed a thin, pale hand on a shocked Dumbledore's shoulder for a second to reassure the older wizard and then turned his full attention on the fuming Dark Lord. "Sir," Snape said, his voice dripping with mockery as he took in the situation. "You might want to let go of Lucius. He's starting to look blue."
Voldemort barred his teeth at Snape but loosened his hold on the neck of the person in front of him who, now released, stood quietly, his eyes blank. All former struggle was gone and he seemed to be awaiting new orders.
Snape folded his arms across his chest, looking quite pleased with himself. "Amazing potion really," he drawled, "One of my own experiments. It can be used as a quick acting poison," next to him Dumbledore looked startled, but Snape continued on as if he hadn't noticed,
"Or a kind of Polyjuice Potion, if a mammal hair is added. Only, it's adapted for not only human transformation, but animal too. Unfortunately, once the hair is added, the potion must be taken within five minutes, or it won't work. It has a long shelf life, as a poison, and takes less than half the time that is required to brew the Polyjuice Potion." Snape shrugged his thin shoulders. "A back door to those in my kind of position. Able to offer a chance to live, or a quick death. Whichever is needed."
Voldemort only stared at him, surprise giving way to slight embarrassment and dark, frothing rage. A red haze was clouding his vision and he wanted to kill something. Dumbledore and his impertinent brat, preferably.
"Next time you have an important prisoner," Snape hissed, dropping his pleasanter tone, "You might want to place more than one inept guard on watch duty." With a quick wave from the wand he had stolen from Malfoy, Snape released the Imperius Curse and Malfoy shook his head, his eyes clearing as control of his body was returned to him.
Uncertainly, Malfoy looked around and then his eyes, currently the Dumbledore blue, fastened on Snape and his face flushed a dark red in sheer fury as he remembered what had happened. "You, you filthy fucking bastard! I'm going to." Malfory was cut off abruptly as Snape cast another spell, taking away his voice.
"I'd rather not hear myself insult me," Snape growled as Malfoy seethed in silence. Then he raised the wand to Dark Lord. "Now, sir," he began conversationally, "I want the dark mark off."
Voldemort was taken aback for a moment at the calm declaration and then laughed. Of all the pointless pleas made by his victims before he killed them, this was by far the most fantastic. "Never."
Oddly, Snape didn't seemed upset at his outright refusal and simply shrugged. "You will remove it," he returned calmly, "Or I will kill you."
Voldemort narrowed his red eyes at the young wizard in front of him, wondering if there was any honesty in his cool remark. Snape held his gaze evenly. Then Voldemort sneered. "You, young Dumbledore," he said, mocking the name, "You don't have the nerve to do it."
Snape's eyes sparkled with some unreadable emotion. Without breaking eye contact, he brought the stolen wand in his right hand down sharply. "Crucio," he hissed and watched unemotionally as Malfoy went down in a fit of silent pain and twitching.
Snape held the curse for a few seconds and then lifted it, leaving Malfoy gasping for air. Snape whipped the wand back up at Voldemort. "You forget," he whispered, "I am a Slytherin."
"The way I see it is," Snape added, twirling one of the wands idly in his hand, "If you remove the mark, I am rid of it forever and you are in no way disadvantaged. If you make me kill you, you are out of power for another decade or so, making your followers doubt your strength even more while I am rid of both you and the mark for that time while you are powerless. True, if you return to power again, I am still branded. I have already performed two out of three forbidden curses tonight so the paramount question is," he aimed the wand steadily at Voldemort's chest, at the Dark Wizard's hellish heart. "Do I make it three for three?"
The room was silent for a long minute and then Voldemort laughed. He had underestimated the young wizard this time. It would not happen again. "You certainly are a Slytherin," he purred, "Are you sure this is what you want?"
Snape glared at him. "Ambition," he snapped, "Means that you will do or sacrifice anything to achieve what you desire. I never wanted power or wealth or prestige or fame or any of that. My whole life, my greatest ambition was to find my family and make them regret abandoning me by being exactly what they wanted." He shook his head, a sad sort of ironic smile touching his lips and he spared a glance back at his father. "I did not turn out perfect, far from it. But I have found my family, and I will be damned before I give that up."
Voldemort sneered. Unquestionably a Slytherin, and yet still definitely a Dumbledore. "My wand back, and I will remove you from my ranks."
Snape held out his left arm, exposing the grisly mark blazed on his white forearm. "Free me first," he demanded. Voldemort, his teeth bared, hissed out a spell and Snape gasped softly in pain as a green vapor rose from his skin and vanished, leaving his arm an unsoiled, pale color.
Snape inspected his arm, nodded, and then chucked the wand forward, aiming over the Dark Lord's shoulder. But Voldemort was fast and with a quick turn, caught it in mid air. With a triumphant cry, he turned the point on Dumbledore and his son, intending to kill them both with one spell, and was just in time to see the older wizard clutch the younger against him and disappear from the room.
Furious, Voldemort turned to see Malfoy, still looking identical to Snape because of the potion, cower back from him. "Lucius," Voldemort hissed, turning towards the pathetic excuse for a man, "Come here. I want to talk to you."
***
McGonagall looked down at her wand, the thing clasped tightly in her hands, when she heard a distinct pop that accompanied those who have apparated. She wasn't sure she wanted to know which one of them had returned. Not knowing gave her a clinging hope that they would both be returned alive and in one piece.
That was not to say, that waiting wasn't hell in itself. Minutes stretch on for hours, but in the end, don't last long enough.
The forest had been quiet while they had anticipated the activation of the portkey and the Headmaster's departure. No one said anything, though every once in a while, Miss Granger would get an odd look on her face, as if she were trying to figure something out. After Dumbledore had left, the silence among those remaining had become deafening.
Finally, not knowing becoming too difficult a battle, McGonagall forced her eyes up and gasped in delighted surprise. Standing a little ways apart from the group were the Headmaster and his son, both looking, Merlin be praised, very much alive.
Snape pushed out of the Headmaster's hold, his whole body radiating fury. "What the hell do you think you were doing?"
Dumbledore folded his arms across his chest and peered over his glasses at the angry wizard. "I think I was saving your life, Severus."
From the group of onlookers, Hagrid suddenly became very pale under his black beard. Nearby, Hermione, a wild light in her eyes, was fidgeting around. Finally, unable to contain herself, she turned to the person nearest her, Black, and pulled on his sleeve, drawing him down to her level and whispered her revelation to him. Black looked over at the two arguing wizards and his eyes became very large. A strange sort of strangled noise came out of his throat, and then he fainted.
Snape and Dumbledore continued on as if they hadn't noticed the group watching them.
"Saving my life!?" Snape screeched, incredulous. "He was going to kill you. Do you understand that?"
Dumbledore nodded, his patience wearing thin. "Of course I do. My life for yours." He caught Snape face and held the man still. "I could not have lived with myself if I let you die," Dumbledore said, softer this time, "Do you understand?"
Snape wrenched away. "Do you understand, sir," he snapped back, "That I would not have been able to live with myself if you had taken my place?" He threw his hand up into the air, "Do you know the number of people that have died because of me, even if indirectly?" He began ticking off names and stopped abruptly when he had used both hands and glared accusingly. "Hell you could even count the two men sent to Azkaban for 'killing me' as dead because of me."
Snape shook his head, his blue eyes obstinate. "I will not allow anyone, you included, to die for me," he added with a hiss. "Have you any idea what kind of living Hell my poor excuse for a life would become? To be the person who caused your death? I would be, if it is even possible, hated more for that than anything I've done. People count on you, look up to you. You do not betray that trust by getting killed for one evil, ugly Slytherin." He turned away from the Headmaster with an angry huff. "Maybe it would have been better if I were never born at all."
Dumbledore took hold of Snape's shoulders and forced him back around. "Never say that," he spat out, his eyes boring into those of his son's. Then he gathered the wizard into his arms, holding him protectively. "Never say that," he whispered fiercely.
Snape regretted what he had said. His mouth had a habit of opening before his mind could catch up. He had upset his father with his careless words. That he honestly regretted. "I'm sorry," Snape finally said, barely raising his voice enough for the Headmaster to hear.
"I know. I am too," Dumbledore answered, hushing the younger wizard when he tried to protest that the Headmaster had nothing to apologize for.
At last, Dumbledore reluctantly loosened his hold on his child, shed his cloak, and placed it on the younger wizard whose protest went ignored. After making sure that the clasp was secure the Headmaster gently nudged Snape forward. "Let's go," he said.
Snape blinked, visibly startled. Sputtering, his mind raced for a logical protest. "I can't go back like, like this!" He made a vague gesture towards his face and hair, "My students-"
"Will only find out the truth from those who have Death Eater parents," Dumbledore said. Snape frowned. Dumbledore added, with a slightly chiding tone, "They will appreciate hearing the truth from you first."
Snape scowled, more annoyed with himself for not being able to come up with a good excuse quick enough. "And what would you know about telling the truth?" he asked the Headmaster nastily.
Dumbledore just smiled and gave the reluctant wizard a little push to get him moving. "That's enough from you," he said, cutting into Snape's stalling.
Snape managed to look thoroughly insulted. "What? It's not like anyone listens to me anyway."
Dumbledore nodded in agreement. "Of course they don't, Severus. You're obnoxious and disliked." It was rare indeed, when someone other than himself would ask for the Potion Master's opinion. Snape, of course, had combated this situation early on by giving his opinion freely and without being asked.
Snape tried to look irritated, but finally shook his head. "Well, at least things are consistent." Dumbledore had now managed to move Snape a few feet forward. Snape's eyes suddenly narrowed as he saw the group watching them. "What are they doing here," he demanded, scowling at the Headmaster and pointing to the three Gryffindor students.
Dumbledore looked over his glasses at the students, who had the grace to look embarrassed. "I don't know, I told them to go back to their rooms," he answered. Hermione dropped her head in shame.
Snape rolled his eyes. "Just great," he muttered, folding his arms across his chest in a decided sulk.
Dumbledore nodded kindly to McGonagall. "Get them back to their rooms, Minerva," he said. McGonagall, snapping back into teacher mode, nodded and moved closer to her charges. Dumbledore put a kind hand on his son's shoulder, a gesture that wasn't, to his comfort, shaken off. "Come Severus," he said gently, "I'll take you home."
***
TBC
SEE? I updated (Dear Merlin! I updated!). TBC does mean To Be Continued. Only one more chapter left.
Author's Note: Justifying Snape's use of the Unforgivables. As a friend of mine pointed out to me, Snape was a Death Eater at one time. He would have used the curses. And during his time as a willing participant, he would have seen (and most likely done) some terrible things. Here he used the curses in an effort to protect his own life and also his father's. He may not like using them, but he can justify the use.
Baby Disclaimer: The line recognized from the movie and play 1776 is not my own.
Looking ahead: Severus's mother will not be part of this story. She is, however, a major part in the (yet unnamed) sequel.