Shivering, he watched them leave through the small window of the bathroom. They hadn't seen him because of the effects of the Disillusionment Charm that he'd asked a young witch to cast upon him. Though she'd needed some help, (and a little practice) she'd gotten it right in the end.

He flew away from the window, wondering what he should do next. Obviously Draco had drugged her and was taking her to his master, though it was a day early. Why wouldn't he have waited that extra day? It didn't make sense unless-

He must have found a way to get her to talk- to tell all the secrets that she knew of the Order, and of the current state of affairs at Hogwarts. Perhaps he'd even want to know trivial things, like what the beliefs were about him in the Wizarding and Muggle worlds.

At that, his mind stopped, and his heart became hard and cold. What could he have done to her to break her spirit? I'll kill the bastard if he's so much as looked at her wrong! He swore, unafraid to take on anyone to keep his love from harm.

How will I get in there? It's not like there's a loose screen somewhere- unless…

He grinned, and directed the broom towards the attic window. There was a chance that they hadn't thought to spell that one, and that's how Sirius had once told him that he'd gone to visit James, after he was married. Lily hadn't wanted Sirius and his rough manners to stop by so much after Harry had been born, afraid that they might affect the child, young as he was. So James had had to sneak out, or Sirius in.

It was a window that was hard to get to from the inside, unless you knew the secret of the attic's maze. It's simple, really, Sirius had said. All you have to do is, when you have a choice, always turn right.

Which meant that, now, since he was coming in to the house, he needed to turn left to get to the attic doorway.

Hovering beside the window, he tried to pull away the screen. When he had little success, he ran through various unlocking spells, listening as the window and finally the screen unlocked.

Just before it fell, he realized that this would be the trickiest part. He grabbed the screen as it tipped out of the window, and holding on to it with one arm, he rose up to the roof.

The screen nearly slipped from his grasp as he tried to set it down. Luckily the snow was deep here, and when it finally did slip, it made no more than a muffled thump. Cautiously, he looked about, hoping that no one had noticed the sudden flurries of snow that flew around the house in the wind, and that the thump had been mistaken for a normal household noise.

He steered the broom back up to the window and wedged a small knife between the sill and the actual window. After a few minutes' struggle, he had managed to pry it open far enough to slide his fingers in. Ten minutes later, he had the window all the way open, and was more than ready to be inside where it was warm.

So he took one deep breath, trying to calm himself, and slowly, leaning on the house, he stood up on the broomstick. After waiting a moment, hoping that his knees would stop shaking, he realized how completely insane this was. When it became clear that they wouldn't stop, he decided that he'd have to jump.

Counting slowly, he forced himself to accept the fact that he would have to do this in order to save her, and that every moment he wasted was another moment lost. This spurred him on, and taking a deep breath, he threw himself forward, using the upper ledge of the window sill to swing his feet into the room. One foot, as he continued to fall, hit a box. And the other hit something softer, something that yielded beneath the pressure that he exerted upon it.

It felt strangely like a leg.

That would be because it is one.

Hands seized his legs, and he was pulled roughly into the room. When he was released, he fell to the floor, looking straight up at the ceiling as the wind was knocked out of him.

Gasping, he tried to fill his lungs, totally unconcerned with the people that surrounded him. All he wanted was to be able to breathe, to feel the blessed air rushing in and out of his lungs…

Finally, he heard the harsh, guttural sounds that surrounded him. It was laughter, the laughter of murderers and traitors. He almost shivered, but couldn't bear to let his old mates see him as weak. So he struck out, lashing them with insults and gestures.

They all grinned wickedly at him, and then forced him up from the ground after disarming him. He saw them all, and knew them, even through their masks: Nott, Crabbe, and Goyle, and there was McNair and Malfoy, and standing by the door was Avery and Bellatrix, wand in hand.

She sneered at him, and watched with some interest as the others forcibly restrained and searched him.

"Severus, Severus, Severus," she said, her voice sly and vehement as she stood there, "I never thought that you'd be the one to take a student lover. You always did set such a store by the rules. Still, I'll have fun breaking her." She whispered, dripping poison into his ears.

She merely laughed when he lunged at her, knowing even through his anger and trepidation that he was no match for an armed witch, even one of her low caliber.

He was thrown back by a heavy boot kicking into his stomach. A sharp pain in his throbbing side told him that some of his ribs were broken. He hit the wall hard and slid down it, collecting bruises from the rough bricks and warped wood. He found himself unable to stand for lack of breath.

He lay there, panting, until they forced him up again. Grasping him brutally by his arms, Avery and Nott forced him to stand at attention between them. Bella watched, amused, as the men took turns hexing him and watching the results as two or more hexes and jinxes met. This continued until she cried, "Crucio!" in her rich, expressive voice.

He had time to register that he was falling, and then the pain hit him like a tidal wave.

Ice lined his breaking bones, and his blood was boiling in his veins. He felt his insides stretching, pulling to the snapping point, and all of his organs turning inside out. Bile flooded his mouth, and it was all he could do to keep his dinner from the night before in his stomach. His lungs seemed filled with molasses, and his heart with lead. His eyes were being squeezed, and an assault was launched upon the tender bones of his inner ear as what sounded like a hundred thousand bands played horribly in his face. Disgusting scents filled his nose, and someone was running white-hot pokers through his brain while hundreds of other beings jumped up and down on him. He longed for the oblivion of death, the comfort of the dark, the end of the agony. If only death would come now… what a relief it would be… even Hermione would understand.

Hermione…

A pang of grief bit briefly through the intense pain.

I'll never see her again.

I love you, Hermione…

And then the pain ended.

She was laughing when he finally stopped twitching. Using a stack of boxes for support, he managed to drag himself up off of the floor. He leaned heavily upon the topmost one, unable to stand up by himself.

Only when his legs stopped shaking under him did he let go of the box. Immediately, he opened his mouth and said the first thing that came to his mind.

"So, Bella, is that the best you've got? That was painless, compared to your normal. Do I sense a weakness in you?"

Looking back at him, a dangerous glint was visible in her eyes, along with a longing for more of his pain and the cold, ruthless uncaring look of a long-time Death Eater. "No, it's not my worst- just enough to get compliance from you for the moment. And it's only by the orders of the Dark Lord. Trust me, if left to my own devices, I would kill you- give you a slow, agonizing death after having killed the girl before your very eyes. Oh, how enjoyable that would be- to see you begging me, pleading for her life, telling me to kill you and leave her… Either way, you would lose: it would be death or slow torture."

He watched her, the last vestiges of pain fading, as she ordered them to take him to the cell.

"So, now you're using cells, hmm? What brought that change about?"

"No, we've been saving the cell just for you, Severus. See, the Dark Lord doesn't want you escaping like last time, and he won't let us kill you, so I'll just put you in this lovely cell and make every moment of your life with us a living hell."

"Yup, that's Bella all right," he said, to no one in particular. "Right pain in the ass, as per usual."

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her knuckles turn white as she gripped her wand tightly. He felt a smirk cross his face, and knew that it infuriated her more than ever. He saw her hand tighten on the wand even more, until-

-SNAP!

Bellatrix's wand snapped, broken into pieces by the force exerted on it. She looked at in horror, as though it were a snake that had bitten her. Then she looked at him, hate flaring in her eyes.

Striding over, she slapped him, as hard as she could. He felt her rings bite into his cheek, and, though it stung, laughed as the blood slowly ran down his face.

"Bit of a temper there, hey Bella?" he taunted her, watching her face turn red as rage grew in her.

Silently snarling, she turned away, and the other Death Eaters gathered around him, hitting him with wands and fists. Pain flared white-hot, but he did his best to ignore it.

"Let's go!" McNair growled, stopping the rain of blows as he stuck Severus' wand into his front pocket. The laughter in his voice was thinly veiled, and his eyes gleamed with mirth. Apparently Bella's fit was amusing to him, too.

Or maybe it was Severus' pain that amused him.

Severus had no time to think about it, for with more jabs and hexes, he was forced into the maze of corridors after Bella.