Understanding
A/N – Very sorry about the delay again, I've just read Prisoner of Azkaban for about the hundredth time, and I was so outraged by Snape's irrational behaviour in the Shrieking Shack at the end, that I just couldn't bring myself to write nice things about him. But I've spent a couple of days reading nice stories that all you lovely people have written, so I've recovered. (I loved him all the time really, I was just temporarily annoyed at him for being unreasonable to Harry, Hermione, Ron, Remus and Sirius.)
This chapter is from the point of view of Severus, and I'm writing it whilst watching XXX, so I apologise in advance for any weird, film-scene type violence which may or may not decide to present itself while I am writing. I can promise that there will be no fast cars, or Vin Diesel, so if that was what you were expecting, look away now. Also, if you really want to, imagine the deep, deep voice of Alan Rickman whilst reading this. Obviously, I'm not going to whilst writing it, because I'll get carried away and end up writing nothing. Enjoy!
Chapter 9 – Into the Serpent's Lair
I just needed to get out of there. Never mind that the heavens appeared to have split right down the middle and were pelting down torrents of rain, along with deafening cracks of thunder every few minutes. I've actually always loved thunderstorms, the louder, the wetter, the better. Especially when I can transform as an eagle and soar through the skies, as free as I like, for as long as I like. But this time is different, I'm not doing it for the pleasure, although it is extremely liberating. This time I'm flying because I've just made the ultimate fool of myself by kissing my ex-student, Hermione Granger. I don't really know how it happened, I suppose I just couldn't resist. 38 year old death eater that I am, seems I just couldn't help myself when a gorgeous, not to mention intelligent, woman was right in front of me. I shiver to think what I might have done had I stayed put. To think, my ex-student (18 years old), kissing me! It's quite thrilling, really, although it was probably just a pity kiss. What am I saying, probably? Definitely it was a pity kiss, she couldn't see anything in me that she could possibly want.
Anyway, I just needed to get away. Isn't that what I always do? I never stick around to face the music. I'll have to go back some time, though, that's the problem this time. Or maybe, that's exactly what I need, to go back and face my problems, to put them right? Hmmmm, oddly philosophical trail of though there, not like me at all. Maybe I'd better think of something else.
I decided to check out the Riddle House, although it had been deserted earlier in the day. I stretched out my wings to glide round the large, decrepit building, but found it hard to swoop as I usually do, due to the gale force winds and driving rain. To my surprise as I flew behind the rear wall of the house, dim, ghostly lights were shining on the ground floor. I swooped down to where the lights were glowing, coming to a graceful stop in the overgrown garden, where I knew I couldn't be seen. No luck, there seemed to be no one there, although the usually pitch black corridor was shockingly bright in comparison. I watched and waited for movement for a long space of time, and when there appeared to be none I prepared to take off again. Just as I opened my wings though, I felt a sharp burning in what was now my left wing. I had experienced this pain before. It was my animagus version of the dark mark burning on my arm. Cold dread seeping through me, I realised that the lit up corridors could be in preparation of a meeting. Making sure I was well hidden, I transformed back to human form, and gathered two rocks, which made a handy transfigured cloak and mask. I dragged them on and disapparated, in case the meeting happened to be elsewhere.
As I had suspected, when I reappeared it was at the front doors to the Riddle House, which were wide open, although unlit. Frequent flashes of lightning were my only light source, here at the front of the building. All around me, now, men dressed in black were appearing, before stalking off through the door. I followed after them, into the dark. The last meeting had been in the upper rooms of the Riddle House, and only a few were present. This time, however, there were many, and we seemed to be heading down into a sort of dungeon, the corridors lit a dim blue now, by long thin candles floating in the air.
We walked down about three sets of stairs, I can't recall exactly, but the air was chilly in comparison to the muggy atmosphere outside. I've never been able to say for sure, but I've always thought that the icy surroundings at these 'gatherings' is more to do with the people present than the actual weather. We come to a stop in a damp, dark dungeon underneath the Riddle House, around twenty masked men are gathered here already, and more are pouring in from the stairs I have just come down. As usual, the man himself is standing separate from all these people, unmasked, so I can tell which one he is. Now, this has always been a problem for me. I don't like to call him Voldemort. Not because I am scared to speak his name, quite the opposite. I don't wish to call this snake, for that is what he is, the name he has chosen for himself. It seems to me that just his name inspires an awful lot of power. But I don't generally call him Tom Riddle either, because most people don't know that is his original name. So, what I usually call him is the Dark Lord, although the scum that he is doesn't really deserve to be graced with a name, because he is an insult to the human race, in my opinion. The sight of him, his voice, and the fear he inspires in others, make me feel sick.
Minutes later, this large dungeon room is filled with upwards of a hundred, or two hundred people, all masked and cloaked, and the Dark Lord begins to speak, his high, chillingly cold voice reverberating off the walls, consuming me with cold. Most of what he says is the usual, anti-muggle rubbish. I think he expects us all to be hanging on to his every word, to agree with everything he says, but I'm only half listening to his diatribe. The air seems even colder than usual, if that's possible. Not cold as in weather, but a cold which seeps into my bones, and my heart, filling me with dread and making me think there will never be sunlight again. The feeling is starting to feel spookily familiar, but my dread-filled mind isn't working properly, so I can't seem to think straight.
Then, I catch the word I'm searching for in the words coming from the Dark Lord's mouth. Suddenly, the cold I felt before was infinitely better than the cold I feel now. Like I've just been thrown head first into a cold plunge pool. 'Dementors' He's saying. I'm hanging on to his every word now, to keep a grip on myself, and also because I need to know what about the Dementors he's talking about. Deep down though, I already know, but my question is answered as two dozen ten-feet tall hooded figures appear as if from nowhere around the walls. The Dark Lord has finally gained control of Azkaban, and has got the Dementors on his side. On our side, rather.
I've grown semi used to Dementors over the years. I don't go over and over my bad memories in my mind. I get this kind of sick feeling of dread all through me like I have now. I'm ashamed I didn't connect the two things together before, but maybe I just didn't want to believe that the Dementors had finally switched sides. This must mean that the prisoners from Azkaban had been released. Hermione and I really have to get on with this potion. Things seem to be moving really quickly, and soon it looks as if the light side will have almost no control. My heart rises in my chest as I think of Hermione, and the closest I could ever get to a smile in this sort of situation graces itself on my face, before all happy thoughts are wiped away by another intake of breath from the Dementors flanking the walls.
Minutes later another word I have come to dread coming from the Dark Lord is heard. 'Traitor'. My heart actually stops in my chest. Even worse this time. If I was somehow found out, tonight I would surely be given the Dementors Kiss. But traitors have been found before, and it's never been me before, always lower ranked newcomers, who are killed quickly and cleanly. For me though, as a higher ranked Death Eater, it would surely be a worse penalty. I can't help thinking that the Dark Lord would wait until he had the Dementors on his side for someone like me though, to delight in treating me to a fate even worse than death. He hasn't said my name though, but there again he hasn't said anyone's name in particular. He lifts his hand and clicks his fingers halfway through a sentence, and I find myself standing somewhere altogether different, I haven't a clue where we are, but there are about ten others, along with the Dark Lord and three dementors are surrounding us. The Dark Lord begins to talk again.
'Now, my most faithful Death Eaters. Or are you?' His voice is cold and harsh now, none of the forced pleasantness he displayed back in the dungeon. 'One of you has betrayed me. However, I do not know which of you it is, although I have a good idea.' Sickeningly, I look up and find his gleaming red eyes looking straight into mine. I quickly look away, assessing any possible escape routes, other than the obvious apparating. We seem to be standing on a deserted moor. I know that there are no moors in close proximity to where we are, in Cheshire, so just running will obviously be no help. Besides, I'm surrounded by Dementors. I'm not listening to what the Dark Lord is saying now, but he steps aside to reveal the thing had perhaps least expected to see, miles away on this wild moor.
Bound and gagged behind him, is a large scruffy black dog. I know it is Sirius Black immediately. There aren't many dogs of that size running around Britain. It's obvious that the Dark Lord knows just who this dog is, and how important he is to the Potter boy and the Light side's fight. I must admit, it's a perfect plan. Whoever the spy is would not want to kill this dog, but the people who aren't traitors would have no trouble, they would think it just an ordinary black dog.
'Snape.' He says cruelly. 'Step forward and kill this dog.'
I finger my wand in my pocket. Of course, I'm not going to do it. I couldn't do it. I can't pretend that Sirius Black doesn't mean more to the Light that I do. Especially because I've been found out. I can do nothing now. If I kill the dog, they will probably kill me anyway. So, I won't kill the dog. Even as I am deciding on the decision I always knew I would have to make, I can hear Dumbledore's voice echoing in my head.
'Remember, Severus, you must always do what is right, never what is easy. You can't offer anyone any more than that, no matter what the consequences.' It's moments like this that I realise just how wise Albus Dumbledore is. He will be delighted when I tell him how his advice prompted me to save the life of Sirius Black. Assuming both of us get out of here alive, which is looking quite unlikely just now. I buy just enough time to come up with a plan. I slowly approach the dog. It's large dark eyes are staring up at me sadly, as if they have given up all hope. Which they probably have, I remind myself.
I draw my wand out, taking my time, keeping with my plan. I brace myself for a few seconds, saying a silent prayer, for both of us. All is silent. Then I take a deep breath and swipe my wand above my head. I bring it down with a violent swish, shouting the words in Latin as I flick towards the dog. The ropes binding him split immediately, and the dog leaps away as fast as a leopard. I concentrate as hard as I can on the upstairs room of the Hanged Man, trying with all my might to apparate there.
Behind me an angry cry has sounded as soon as the ropes were cut. A cold voice screams 'Avada Kedavra!' and a blinding flash of green light streaks across the moor.
A/N
Sorry about the cliffhanger, but I wanted to leave at an exciting bit! Now hopefully the next chapter will come more easily. Sorry this is a bit short, but there's less dialogue and more content, so it's bound to take up less space. Also, I know the past/present tense is all over the place, but it really gives me a headache to sort it all out, so just improvise, please. I think it's mostly present tense, but I really don't like reading back over my work at the end, because it makes me just want to delete everything I've written, so it's probably best if I just leave it. Maybe I'll go back when I've finally finished this, and kind of tidy it up, but I don't have the patience to do it now. I've actually quite enjoyed writing this chapter, it's all just come pouring out, so I hope everyone has as much fun reading it.
Due to the complaints received over my (v. generous) offerings of acid pops and cockroach clusters, and because snapesophelia asked very nicely, I have decided instead to give out loans of the one and only Severus Snape to everyone who reviews my story. So, ChishionoTenshi, Luna Writer, DragonFireAngelVWP and snapesophelia, you can each borrow Sev for as long as wish, but not for too long, and please make sure he doesn't lose his voice!
As for all of you who have read this but not reviewed, I hope you are enjoying the story, please let me now what you think. If you review, you can borrow Sev, I promise, but if you don't you can have a single, vomit flavoured Bertie Botts Every Flavour Bean. (no offence meant.) Actually, you can have a strawberry flavoured bean, since I'm feeling particularly generous, after all it's Easter Sunday tomorrow, and you have at least read my story, so Thank you very much. But I still want you to review!
Thanks to everyone who's read this, and Happy Easter to everyone.