Author's Note: Here is chapter four. I hope that anyone who is interested will like it. Is anybody willing to review me?? If this is boring, you can say so. If it's just that no one happens to be reading, then I guess oh well. At least I'm having fun, right?

This chapter is almost exclusively a conversation between Snape and his Death Maker, Lucius Malfoy, but you'll get an idea of what ol' Severus was thinking when he decided to join Voldemort (in my own imagination). Here we go...

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There was thankfully no pain when Snape awoke; there was only the cold sensation of stone against his palms. His back, too, attested to the fact that wherever he was in this blackness, he was laid out on a slab of rock.

He blinked his eyes, but there didn't seem to be much difference between opened and closed, and he clenched his fists at the panicked thought that he might be blind. He sat up quickly and then went perfectly still, his ears trying to pick out any clues to his surroundings. That was when he heard the slow, heavy breathing, off to perhaps his right side. It could be human, Snape deliberated, but there was the possibility that it was an animal. The knowledge hit him that it didn't really matter; one way or another, the breathing represented a definite threat if he could not identify it, and in the depths of the darkness he could not.

There was nothing he could do but listen and wait, unless he wanted to feel his way around, and the danger of running into something living made him reject the idea before he had even begun to consider it. At least he was remaining calm. It was his first time since before he'd bought his wand that he'd ever been without it, and although its absence annoyed him greatly, he did not allow himself to panic over the fact that it was taken; gone.

Wait- perhaps not gone! He could feel a familiar presence inside his robes, in the side pocket where he kept the wand, and with an exultant grin that no one could see, he reached in his hand and closed it around something wooden. His wand! They must have replaced it after he'd lost consciousness. Snape drew it out carefully, unnecessarily worried that somehow he would lose it again in this blackness.

"Lumos," he whispered, and a tiny light grew at what he could now tell for certain was the tip of his wand. He was glad to see that his sight was as good as ever, but the scant light of the spell was not enough to see much more than his hand and the gray of his stone bed, so he allowed the little spark to grow into an orb of strong, bright light.

The source of the breathing quickly became clear as the light touched the four stone walls and threw a Death Eater seated in the corner into dramatic shadow. Severus narrowed his eyes at him and readied his wand for a spell he realized he wouldn't need, watching intently as the faceless man began to stir as though he had been sleeping. He stretched his arms and stood up, the hidden face turned toward Snape and his lighted wand.

"Oh good, Severus. You've awakened," said Lucius, sounding tired but still mocking. He pulled back his hood and reached up to remove what Snape now realized was a mask. Malfoy's face beneath it was slightly pale, and his lips were faintly tremulous. His right hand moved to clutch the left arm in the place where Snape had seen Voldemort's dark brand in the Yard. On the lower part of the wall against which Lucius had been dozing, a red smudge attested to the fact that the blood from his wound had seeped through his black robes, though this was not obvious at a glance towards the arm.

Snape placed his feet confidently upon the stone of the floor and approached Lucius so that he was only a few feet away from him. "What is all this?" Severus demanded, brandishing his wand. The Death Eater smiled slightly.

"You have joined the ranks of the Dark Lord's Death Eaters," he said casually. "You will be an asset to us, I think. If I do say so myself." The smile twitched uncharacteristically upon his face, and Snape thought just how haggard he looked. It gave him a twinge of satisfaction that Lucius had suffered.

"Oh actually, Malfoy, I don't think I will be joining you. A steady job isn't worth what you've put me through. You deceptive bastard. At least, I see, you haven't come out much better," he sneered at the white- faced Malfoy. Even joking that a pureblood was illegitimate could get him riled up, but to insult one so blatantly often provoked trouble. Severus took that chance in the face of Malfoy's current weak state.

"You know nothing of suffering," spat Lucius, his mouth trembling quite visibly now as he spoke. "All of us underwent the same ordeal in order to pledge ourselves to the Dark Lord."

"Everyone except your dear master, of course. That's the way it goes," he said contemptuously. Lucius stared at him with a slightly psychotic half-grin. He was not well.

"How do you think he became what he is today?" he asked incredulously.

"Bitten by a weresnake?" mused Snape, gaining confidence

"You." glowered Lucius. "You cannot imagine what he had them do to him. That he was not driven mad by the first of the rituals is astounding. That he ever survived the last is proof of his destiny and highest purpose: to cleanse the world of the muggle plague; to rid us of the tainted half- bloods."

"You're ranting, Lucius. And you really do look wretched," Severus said with smug disdain.

"No wonder at that," Malfoy said, glaring. "Since last night I have, as your Death Maker, Severus, observed the proper procedure by mixing my blood into yours. And how you can complain I'll never fathom," he mumbled viciously.

"You've been mixing your dirty blood in my pure veins?" demanded Snape with mock indignation, goading the Death Eater once more. This time the implications of these words struck a nerve in Malfoy, and he found and raised his wand with a rapidity that Snape had not expected. But his own wand was immediately raised to counter an attack, and he smirked at Malfoy's attempt.

"Come now Lucius. Stop moping and take an elixir or something. Your face is white as Juno's hide."

Unnaturally docile for a Malfoy, he lowered his wand with an unsteady hand and performed a simple charm. "Accio blood restorative potion," he said weakly, and from a stone shelf close by, a glass bottle threw itself forward and into his shaking hand.

While Malfoy choked down the predictably red potion, Snape allowed his eyes to wander the room. It was obviously a mausoleum; he could see the skeletal and not-so-skeletal remains laid out on the stone shelves cut into the walls and upon stone biers exactly like the one upon which he had awakened. The fact that there was no smell did not catch his attention, though his subconscious realized that anti-stink spells were common at all wizard burial sites.

The only thing that he did not see was a door. All of the walls looked solid, and the areas of floor that he was able to see did not appear to contain any sort of trap door.

"I won't be leaving here until you're through, will I?" sniffed Snape disgustedly.

Malfoy, who had emptied the bottle and was already beginning to color, looked at him and smiled in a very Lucius manner.

"Of course not. But you wouldn't want to leave anyway, now would you?" he asked coldly.

"Well, actually... yes I would," Severus said, folding his arms. Now nearly himself again, Malfoy laughed experimentally in his usual tones.

"You cannot pretend you aren't at all curious. Or you never would have come," Lucius smiled deviously.

"I was curious at first, naturally. And then. I seem to recall being cursed, tortured, and thrown about without good cause, although I believe at one point I lost consciousness, so I can't say anything with absolute certainty." Snape regarded Malfoy with his unblinking black eyes.

Cooly Lucius returned the gaze, and laughed in amusement. "True. But surely you must have some desire to know what you've gotten yourself into."

"I rather believe you were the one who got me involved in your masochistic little cult," Snape replied huffily. "And besides, I think I've heard enough from you to have a pretty clear idea about your purpose. Correct me if I'm wrong, now: we're- you are, at any rate- working to eventually wipe out all muggles and mudbloods in the world so that the only ones left standing are to be purebloods and faithful followers of this Voldemort, who looks like a snake and likes to inflict terrible pain upon everyone with whom he comes into contact. And you do realize, of course, that as vile as the mudbloods are, wiping out all of them would lead to either rampant inbreeding or the extinction of wizardry?"

Malfoy was shaking his head. "Do not speak the Dark Lord's name," he said warningly. "He expects only a formal title from the mouths of his followers."

"But I am right?" asked Snape.

"Partially, I suppose," said Malfoy with a shrug, leaning comfortably against a stone shelf behind him. "But incorrect on many points. For one thing, there are purebloods scattered all about the globe, and more than enough to safely continue the pureblood lines for ages to come, after the Dark Lord fulfills his destiny." He looked dreamy at the thought, as though he could hardly wait. "But there is something important which you have overlooked, Severus."

"And that is...?"

"Think about what the Lord has offered to you. Satisfaction, at destroying the hated muggles, but also relief, in a place where wizards with your unappreciated talents are at last given credence... And lastly, but best of all that he provides: great power." His eyes sparkled and he clasped his hands together. "What he has made himself into, what powers he has gained through all that he endured... His Death Eaters are allowed to taste of it freely; a gift no other man will ever know." He closed his eyes in internal ecstasy.

"What do you mean, 'freely,' when Voldemort is constantly threatening you all with the cruciatus curse and worse?!" demanded Snape in angry disbelief.

"I've told you. The kind of power he offers, he gained by sacrificing himself on an alter of his own ambition," Lucius explained with a strange passion in his voice. "What he now is, is not what he was. He would not turn back the time, but he has lost much of himself. None of us know how much of our Lord is any more than pure, focused power, bent into the shape of a man by nothing save the force of the Dark Lord's will." Malfoy's drifting, dreaming eyes returned to Severus' skeptical face. "All there is for us is to do what we love best within the framework of our Master's plan. In return we receive more power than we might ever hope to deserve, without the consequences. Doesn't that sound worth it?"

Snape pursed his lips, thinking deeply. It was true: his dreams were their dreams, to a far extent. He imagined his life had he never accepted that scroll from Lucius in the Leaky Cauldron, and found that he could hardly bear to think about the uselessness of his entire existence up to this point. What was the use of being alive, he thought, if he could not do what he most wanted to?

And what is that? he asked himself. He had wanted to be an auror, in a way, but he had known all along that what he really wanted to do was dig into magic's darkest depths, to rise above the taunting of little boys who could have no idea of what he was really capable. Slowly a smile spread across his face; not the fanatical, far-off grin that Malfoy had displayed in his fervor- but an outward sign of his realization that the Dark Lord could provide him with the things he desired. He wasn't thrilled with the idea of taking out muggles, as he had a vague notion it was true that a man got back what he dealt out, but neither death nor a return to his direction- less life seemed more attractive than the opportunity now presenting itself. He looked up to see Malfoy appraising him with that little smirk of a smile.

"I'm a Death Eater, then, am I?" Snape asked finally.

"Go on and look at your arm," suggested Lucius.

Having almost forgotten the mark, now that it no longer pained him, he rolled up his sleeve to look at it in the light cast by his wand. To his brief astonishment, there were no visible incisions, and no blood; only a mark that appeared to be a tattoo in the likeness of a snake and skull. Gingerly he touched it, but it felt like any other patch of skin. He rubbed it, just to be certain, but nothing happened.

"Well. I am a marked man," Snape commented, rolling down his sleeve again.
"Marked for advancement under the Dark Lord, greatest among wizards," added Malfoy. "Shall we go, then?"

"Let's," agreed Snape. He watched thoughtfully as Lucius swiped his wand through the air and said, "Portus aprecio!" A section of shelves faded from the wall against which Malfoy had been leaning. There instead was a dark doorway with steps beyond, leading upwards.

"Come, Severus," said Malfoy after lighting his wand, starting to lead the way up the stone steps. Snape followed him up and through a second doorway, into an antechamber where a greater percentage of shelves had been filled than in the smaller room in which he had awoken.

"The chamber we've just left... That was reserved for the worst of those who disgraced their families. I've actually an uncle down there, although as you know the practice of using the Yard is not permitted any longer."

"What did he do?" asked Snape absently.

"He joined the Dark Lord towards the beginning, before he had even completed the last of his transformations. But after a few months of running about with our Lord, he met a muggle girl and decided to marry her. He denounced his master for- of all things- being arrogant and overly ambitious." Malfoy reached a door and opened it to allow a cool, gray sort of sunlight to spill through. "When the Dark Lord caught him, he did not die easily."

The two men allowed the Lumos spell to go out as they emerged under an overcast sky. Snape glared slightly at his Death Maker.

"Are you trying to frighten me, Lucius?" asked Snape. "I realize already that it would be foolish to think one could outwit the Dark Lord, thank you."

Malfoy laughed. "Of course not. It is not my job to frighten you, Severus. It is our Master's."

As though on cue, Snape stopped suddenly in his tracks at a sharp, burning sensation in his arm. Where the mark had lain harmlessly upon his flesh, he now felt it was on fire. He covered it uselessly with his other hand, and looking up uncomprehendingly, he saw that Malfoy was doing the same.

"What is this?" Snape hissed, his arm throbbing.

"The Dark Lord," gulped Malfoy, slightly more composed than the other, less experienced Death Eater. "He is calling us to him."

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