Disclaimer: See Chapter 1.

Power…  That's all this can be described as…  Pure power.  Severus thought, repeating the memory of performing the Sacrifie curse on Hawthorne Hawkins earlier that night.  He'd performed the curse twelve times on the man, watching him squirm with more pleasure each time he cast the ancient Unforgivable.  That pure, unadulterated, power, running through my veins with every curse.  Severus chuckled slightly to himself.

Voldemort seemed to enjoy himself, sitting there, just watching Lucius and I torture that man.  How long did it go on like that?  It seemed like mere minutes…

I guess time flies when you're having fun.

Severus sat across from Lucius in the Great Hall, merely staring at his breakfast, sipping slowly on a large goblet full of cranberry grape juice.

You have to love the color…  It's almost like blood.

He glanced up as the mail arrived, hundreds of owls of all shapes and forms fluttering into the Hall, slightly surprised to see his own large black owl, Noire, drop a small parcel in his lap.  Severus handed the bird a piece of bacon from his plate and ran a hand over his feather covered head affectionately.

Lucius looked at him critically before turning to his own package, tearing it open greedily.

Severus whispered a quick goodbye to Noire before turning to his own mail, one dark eye brow raised quizzically.  A copy of that morning's edition of the Daily Prophet sat in his lap, the headline catching his eye immediately:

Ministry Officer Found Dead

He scanned the paper, absorbing the information quickly.

'The Ministry of Magic reports that a Ministry official was found savagely murdered at approximately six o'clock this morning.  Hawthorne Hawkins, 43, was found the victim of brutal beating and what appeared to be hours of various curses, including what officials believed to be the Sacrifie, an ancient curse, whose roots are traced back to France…'

A breath caught in Severus' throat as he glanced up at Lucius, catching his eye momentarily, before turning to the voice that called from behind him. 

"Yes, Sage?"  Snape snapped, turning towards the young woman.  She appeared slightly taken aback by his tone, her eyes wide.  "Well, what is it?"

Sage closed her blue eyes partially before opening them, glaring at Severus.  She grasped him by the arm, jerking him to his feet; she took hold of the newspaper and pulled him angrily out of the Great Hall without saying a word.

"Sage, what the hell is this all about?"  Snape said as Sage finally released his arm after pulling him into a little used classroom.

"I read the Prophet this morning, Severus…  Look, I know that you've joined the ranks of…him…  I know there was a meeting last night…  And I know…" Sage took a steadying breath, brushing a stray hair from Severus' face.  "That you're the only person in the whole of Britain under the age of two hundred that uses the Sacrifie curse."

Severus backed away from Sage, his black eyes cast to the floor, his hands gripped into tight fists.  He chose his words carefully.

"You don't know anything, Cartonis.  And the only way that you could know that I did it, is if you were there."  Snape said, his tone of voice devoid of any true emotion.  "You can't pin this on me.  You can't prove anything."

"Yes.  I can."

"Oh, and how is that?  Are you going to use the truthfulness potion on me?  Cast a charm?  Go get the Divinations teacher; have that giant bat look at my tealeaves?  Read my palms?"  Severus sneered.  "There's not a damned thing you can do about it.

"So, until you decide that you can pin the…unfortunate…death on me, I suggest you keep your trap shut, Sage."

And with that, Severus turned away from her, storming out of the room.