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Gryffindor-80 Points- Caprice earns 10 Points for appreciating a Laconic phrase; FrogFoot earns 10 Points for a wonderful extra credit assignment essay on the intricacies of plot and tone in certain fics

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This chapter is dedicated to Riv. You have been a great help to me; listening to my insecure blitherings, helping me to get beyond plot-holders, and being a good e-friend. I know that they say that 'As iron sharpens iron, so one man sharpens another.' Our little author chats are proof of that!

Chapter 38: WARNING: VIOLENCE

The funny thing, if there were a funny side to being tortured for botching a simple mission, was that he, unlike most Death Eaters knew he would survive. 'So why am I sweating? Where is this anxiety coming from? I feel hunted trapped, doomed, the Dark Lord will not allow me to be killed.'

*For now,* It reminded him.

Could It be right? 'The only thing that It has been right about,' Snape reminded himself. 'The only thing that It has ever been right about, is that with It gone I will be very vulnerable indeed.' He tried to focus on the immediate problems and let the others slide back out of the way.

Apparently the old Malfoy chateau suited the Master's taste, they were in the same large room as the last few times large gatherings had been called. The columns and general spaciousness of the room suggested that it had once been intended as a ballroom. A different sort of dance was being performed there now.

Snape was still sweating. He wasn't free yet, and it did no good to his cause to dwell on that fact. 'The other three involved in the ambush will be corrected for their failures, but I was in charge of the whole bloody mess.' There was a faint stirring; It knew what was coming. Passing an overconfident Lucius Malfoy, without acknowledging him, Snape savored the fact of the coming torture. It writhed weakly, obviously It was beginning to accept Its coming end.

*But what will happen to you when I am gone? You will not have even the hope of becoming better…they never get better when they fragment.*

'We will live. That is all I care about. Your precious Headmaster gave me a second chance at life and took the only thing I had left to live for. I will see to it that he pays for betraying me. And for betraying her.'

Something Snape had never felt from the Other washed over him. It did not shrink back, It resisted. Then he was in control again and it was time to face his master.

~

All of the Fates and Chimeras were present. Four black robed figures stood a little out of line, two steps forward into the circle. Their failures were announced, by Wormtail, for the entire assembly to hear.

Being disarmed was treated less severely than being disarmed and not retrieving the lost wand. Lucius was given two, unhealthy, doses of painful abdominal spasms (for failing to cast his Muscular Excise curse, in a strong enough form to kill the Half Giant outright.) Then it was Snape's turn.

Many in the circle wanted to step back before it started. Fear kept them in place.

"You." Wormtail's shrill, sniveling voice was getting on Snape's nerves. So much so, that the little rat of a man was in very real danger of being added to the charges against the Potions Master. The little toad was practically glowing with the chance to get even with Snape. "One of the Master's most trusted servants," Wormtail continued, unaware of the danger he was in. "You have failed our master in the highest way possible…"

The next several ominous phrases were drown out by a scoffing voice that only Snape could hear.

*You, a traitor against Voldemort?! Ha! Please, for once, earn the charges that I am to be punished for.*

Nearly a half-hour later It was too exhausted to mock anyone and just lay still waiting for the next curse. Snape started to worry though, 'It's too weak. Why is Lord Voldemort allowing this to go on for so long? The Fates are always treated harsher than the common men, or even the Chimeras, but this-' From where he lay, in his own vomit and sweat, Snape saw the edge of a cloak pass by. The only one that would dare to move from the circle would be the Dark Lord himself. 'Voldemort, coming over to check on me? Not a good sign.'

Up until now, Wormtail had been giving the offenders their behavior modification inducements, when Lord Voldemort stepped forward Snape wasn't the only one to become concerned. Every Death Eater received one Cruciatus from their new master when he or she joined; a taste of what would come if failure occurred. Aside from that initial warning though, Voldemort left the punishment to others. Unless a special case came up…

"Sss-erverus-sss," he was hissing, a very bad sign. "Sss-everus-sss, why did you fail me?" The question was softly spoken, and very rhetorical. He knew Snape had no voice left to answer with. "Was-ss it becaussse of the others-ss that were with you?"

The other three men from the team were shaken by the threat, one was still twitching from his corrective punishment. (If you did loose your wand, it was better to wait and find it rather than to come back wandless.)

Snape still couldn't move enough to breathe on a regular basis, let alone to follow his master's pacing form. 'Get out here!' He reached back but found nothing, It had retreated. The Dark Lord was prattling on about loyalty and devotion, but Snape couldn't find It anywhere. 'You are obligated to protect me, get out here now!'

Through the Dark Mark Voldemort could feel Snape's rising panic, and knew it was because the Other was not responding. "Sss-everus-sss," he raised the limp man to his feet with a slight flick of his wand. "I can't very well return a corps-ss-e to Albus-ss in pla-sss-e of his-ss Potions-ss Ma-sss-ter. However, while you have been punished for failing at your mission, you have not been punished for failing your men."

The Potions Master in question wasn't in need of much reviving. He hadn't taken much more than twinges of the last few curses sent by Wormtail. He ached and his throat felt raw, but the worst of the pain was fading as he continued to waken.

One by one the members of the failed mission stepped forward for a rare treat. It was not often that you got the chance to take a free shot at one of the Fates. The fact that it was sanctioned, by Voldemort himself, meant that they could face no reprisal for their actions.

The three men who stood forward to get their revenge were well aware of Lord Voldemort's implied warning against using truly dangerous curses. Lucius took his turn first and cast a nerve sensitivity-heightening spell, content to vicariously enjoy the fun; he then stepped back a little.

The second man, a large, brutish looking, cloaked shade appreciated Lucius' thoughtfulness and cast a temporary curse that involved the symptoms associated with Fibromyalgia.

Snape knew that the light level in the room was low, very low. But each flickering flame on each candle stabbed into his brain. Nausea, so strong that he fell back to the floor and dry heaved until blood started to come up, was coupled with deep muscle pain that made actually breathing more painful than it seemed worth. His every joint protested against the small movements that he made with each gasp for air. Snape lay back on the floor and tried to focus on surviving.

Too many long minutes later the third man stepped forward. A slightly stoop shouldered silhouette, obviously he was a member of the old guard. He waited for the previous curse to abate before delivering his own. He pulled a small vial of pale blue powder from a pocket. A potions Master himself, he was rather excited to get the chance to test his new creation. Nothing much seemed to happen, but the old man was pleased. He knew that without being able to hear the screams, the other Death Eaters would not appreciate the full effect of what was going on. Snape on the other hand knew exactly what was happening.

Powder had been thrown into his face. It got in his black and bloodshot eyes and it choked him when it entered his lungs as he tried to breathe. Then his skin was being slowly charred and the effect was happening over his entire body. Rolling spasmodically, he tried to draw on the coolness that he knew the stones beneath him held. But the world looked to be on fire and everything within and without him seemed to be confirming the illusion as true.

~

They threw themselves into the hedonistic mayhem of the Dark Revel that followed. Most were able to distract themselves from the more obvious dangers of being a Death Eater by enjoying the few Muggles that had been obtained for that very purpose. Lucius Malfoy, however, did not forget. He also did not fail to see Voldemort, leave the Revel early. Followed very slowly by Snape.

~

He stumbled a little, entering his master's chamber. A subtle Enervate, and one of the strongest pain relievers he knew, were the only things keeping him upright. Voldemort walked ahead of him, until he reached the center of the room. Then the Dark Lord turned and waited, with unusual patients, for his servant to kneel and bow his head. Snape hadn't been sure how he would actually go about kneeling in the properly submissive fashion required.

Slowly Snape sank to the floor, first one knee then the other. The whole bowing thing was beyond him; he had to put a hand out to catch himself before he fell flat on the carpet. True the curses had been ended several minutes ago. Their effects though, sore and strained muscles, the lingering sensitivity to light, and the echoes of more pain than his mind had been able to bare, stole the grace and fluidity from his movements. After being granted the right to stand he tried to rise in one smooth motion, as was his habit. Then he tried to pull one leg forward and leverage himself up like most of the men did.

Voldemort waited while Snape sat, legs folded beneath him, and holding his face off the carpet, with both hands now. Watched as Snape finally sank to the floor, face first. Then, when Snape tipped onto his side and lay helplessly still, he drew his wand and whisked the unconscious man to the bathroom.

A charm filled the large tub with faintly steaming water, and another had the soiled garments removed. He lowered Snape into the water and watched him fight a moment against the sensation of being immersed in liquid. Exiting softly he took a moment to cast a final charm, to prevent Snape's accidentally drowning while unconscious, "Enervate." He saw the dark blue eyes flicker open, before closing the door.

When the male heard the door close the first thing he wondered was what the hell he was doing there. The second was if he was there what did that mean for him? How had he fared through the evening? A clock sounding midnight sent him scrambling for his clothes, which had been Scourgifyed apparently, as they were no longer filthy with the remnants of his- their ordeal. Quickly drinking a mouthful of the foul tasting blood red liquid, he took time to ponder his situation after putting the vial away.

Focusing deeply on the connection he still had with his black eyed keeper, he found the link to be nearly as silent as when he used the blocker. The pain slowed his movements only once, trying to get his other arm into the vest he felt a stab of pain flash, white hot, lance through his shoulder. Wincing slightly he grit his teeth and forced the arm through the hole, but took a bit more care with the large frock coat and custom tailored Potions robe. Standing in the partially opened bathroom door he blinked at the dim lamps and motionless figure seated before the fire.

"I thought we should…talk, before it iss too late." Voldemort's voice was cordial; as cordial as a dry husk rattling in the breeze.

With nothing else to do, he stepped forward, stopping with most of the room's width still between them.

"You would be more comfortable, I believe, if you ussed a cooling charm," Glimmering red eyes turned from the fire to regard the male. "Perhapss though, you are not sstrong enough in the Dark and therefore do not mind the heat? And yet you are three quarterss 'of the night' as they ssay. A very intriguing mixs.""

He said nothing.

"Ansswer me," the Dark Lord ordered quietly. He took up a silver goblet from the small table at his elbow and drank a few sips of the oddly pink liquid. (Nagini's milky venom mixed with blood.)

The male blinked after a moment of blank staring. "There is nothing to answer, you have spoken no words that I recognize as such."

"Ah yess, the charmss," placing the goblet back in the canter of the table Voldemort turned his full attention on the male but did not expand on his thoughts. Red eyes regarded blue for a silent minute. Instead he returned to his earlier topic, "I am impresssed that your vocal cordss have healed enough to sspeak sso clearly. I wanted to ssee you."

The male shook his head with a slight negative motion, "You refer to Pettigrew as Wormtail to remind him of the friendships he betrayed. To remind him of the choices he has made, and the fact that you know. You wished to show him that he needs to rely on you fully, if he is to defeat me. You wanted to see me to show me that you could control things well enough to do so."

An eye ridge rose slightly.

The soft tone of a chime sounded, breaking the gentle violence hidden within the conversation.

Like a specter of death, Voldemort raised a bony, claw like, hand. "I exspect that you have healed him ssufficiently by thiss time. You may fetch him out now."

The male returned to the still steam filled bathroom. As he closed the door he heard the voices of the Dark Lord and his traitorous right-hand rat. The grating hiss of bad news being received, and then, he heard no more. He had hidden his exhaustion well, but now his strength gave out. Falling back into the dark of his prison he was again enveloped in an acid-bath of hate and the pain of his torture.

~

Black hadn't been able to sleep much the first few nights in the dungeons. The cold damp air was so like Azkaban, and yet so different. He had tried to sleep in only his shorts, as he had while in school, but found that he felt vulnerable without the long sleeves and pant legs had had worn for so many years. In a depressing way, everything, from the quiet to the soft bed and thick blankets was strange and new.

He was having a familiar dream. The room was spacious but bare. The walls and floor and ceiling were gray. His clothes were gray and even the air had a wispy grayish feel. The stones of the room were smooth and the only exit from the prison was many meters above his head, well beyond his reach. Out there the sun was warm and there were colors and scents that he had begun to forget the names of. It was the same dream he had had for the last two years of his imprisonment. It had never changed. Always he had woken with tears running down his face and wetting his filthy hair and prison uniform.

But this time, as he scraped his fingers against the near seamless blocks of granet, the air began to change. A blue tinged light was in the room behind him. As he turned, a cool breeze tickled at his cheek and neck.

The vague blue light became two glowing eyes- in the dark above his bed. Adrenaline shot his hand out toward his wand faster than fear was able to register the threat. The male was in his room, over his bed.

A hand clamped on his wrist and in an instant he was on his back. Arm pinned painfully behind his back. He was being smothered by his own pillow. For some reason he remembered a charm he had heard of that some new mothers used, to keep their infants from smothering on pillows. Then he realized that his pillow was not the threat that should be occupying his attention. A body pressed flat against his back and across his pinned arm. A pair of lips pressed close to his ear and a cool breath sighed past his ear.

Sirius jerked awake with a violent thrashing at the empty air around him. The male was not there. Panting with fear, heart racing from the adrenaline rush, he calmed enough to check the clock. It was still early enough that there would be no students in the halls. 'I need to know.' Thinking carefully about the consequences that could come from such a confrontation, he dressed quickly and left to find the male.

Wandering the dungeon halls was getting old fast. After only a few minutes he had no idea where he was, or how to get back. "Where is he," Sirius demanded of the stones around him.

"It would help to know to whom you are referring." The male spoke from the dark to Black's right. "Unless you don't really want an answer. Hogwarts has trouble understanding the complexities of Human intentions. Sometimes you need to be very blunt with her."

In the dark and alone, a confrontation did not seem like such a good idea anymore. But he was here. "I-" Sirius swallowed and tried again, "I was looking for you."

The male seemed to bleed from the dark when he stepped forward. His face held no expression; not even his eyes had a glimmer of emotion to them. After a few beats the male glanced back down the hall, "I am expecting…guests. I suggest you get your question out before I have to run."

"What do you plan to do with me?" Sirius' voice was strong; inside he wanted to melt between the stones.

The male answered almost before Sirius could finish his demand. "Do you mean will I rape you?" Black's freeze-of-terror was answer enough. He flicked another look down the hall, "They have arrived, would you care to join us?"

Sirius stubbornly shook his head, "I want an answer."

"No you don't." The male headed down the hall alone.

'Black ran a few steps to catch up with him, "What do you mean I don't want an answer?! I think I should know if I'm safe or not!"

"I think you should also. You did, at one point." For some reason he looked Black in the eye then, and allowed an unnecessary answer, for once. "You are easily intimidated by physical closeness. I think that is because of your confinement. Perhaps you should speak with Tala, she also carries my mark."

Black was dumbfounded. "So threatening me with rape was just a means to an end?"

The male smirked, "I'm a Slytherin for a reason. I do tend to use the fastest means to reach my goal."

Further argument was put off by the arrival of three people. The female's eyes shone in the dark leading the way for the two following her. As they drew closer Sirius recognized the Exotic Vampire, Starch, and he felt as though he had definitely seen the bronze skinned dark hared woman somewhere before.