A/N: Okay, here it is – the story is unwinding, finally. Enjoy the tension as it stretches out in every member of the Order as Severus begins his deadly little quest.
But first, I give you fair warning – violence and swearing and such nasty things exist – if you don't like it, hold off till the next chapter, or let go of this fic, once and for all.
And, secondly, there is a horrid cliff-hanger at the end – one that will be overcome by Saturday, God willing, but one you'll have to wait and squirm a bit for. Don't say I didn't warn you – I've got a nasty little test in my only class tomorrow morning, and I need to be there, so Chapter 12 must wait.
For now, here are More Desperate Deeds…Enjoy…
Chapter 11: More Desperate Deeds
He hadn't really been expecting to find anything.
Really, he hadn't.
Severus' brow creased with worry as he stared back into the merry grey eyes of Lucius Malfoy, swirling the excellent wine in his glass as his sharp mind went over the unmistakeable flashes of humour and excitement in the escaped Death Eater's face during their rapid flicks of conversation.
Severus Snape took a long sip of his wine, letting a contemptuous sneer fall over his features.
"They were almost intolerable," he let himself mutter. "Believe me, Lucius – if it wasn't for their bloody money, I'd be a wanted murderer in Romania this very day…" Lucius' eyes flashed with more amusement, disconcertingly bright with excitement. Some instinct prodded at Severus to continue, to extend the lie, and he did, easily, wondering why on earth he was driven to do so. "…of course, almost a quarter of it is going, by law, to that insufferable little nephew of theirs…" He grimaced, affecting disgust, watching Lucius' reactions keenly.
It was there – he was sure of it – that little quiver of excitement that signified that Lucius Malfoy had found a new victim for his disquieting desires. Desires that still drove him to ask, his face adopting a mildly interested look Severus knew the danger in, a seemingly innocuous question.
"A nephew, you say?" Lucius gracefully lowered himself into the couch, next to Snape, who swirled his wine before languidly continuing, as if the subject bored him to the core.
"Yes, indeed," Severus went on, sighing deeply. "One Tobias Snape – the only remaining scion of our esteemed family to have a claim to the word 'handsome', too." Severus sipped again, rolling the lie around in his head. "Empty-headed young brat, that one. Probably fucks everything that moves, with that face – flirting with his Aunt like a common prostitute." Snape motioned bitterly, rolling his eyes. "It is tradition that I flirt with her, you remember – " he snorted, pretending to ignore the familiar gleam brighten in grey eyes opposite him, " – young fool wanting to throw that in my face, for some reason."
"How young, again, Severus?" Lucius asked, almost innocently.
Snape set down his empty glass on the small coffee table between them, his heart beating fast. He was right – this meeting, this seemingly chance meeting – must have something to do with Harry. Lucius was almost twitching in remembered pleasure…bile rose in his throat, strong enough to make him cringe.
He couldn't let himself think about – anything like that – he'd be distracted…
Severus Snape forced himself to reach for the bottle between them, making his actions almost hungry, as if he needed it. Predictably, Lucius reached it first, filling his glass with a hungry expression on his face.
"Young enough." Snape shrugged lightly, hoping his muscles wouldn't feel like this, all bunched and knotted and stiff, when he found his son's body…and learned what had been done to it. He forced himself to continue. "Only a month or two older than your Draco, I believe…disgustingly good looking, for a Snape, and even more aware of it. Insufferable, indeed." He peered sharply at Lucius, who was smiling viciously. "My misfortune amuses you, of course – "
"No, Severus," Lucius said, impeccable lips twitching, leaning back into the handsome leather of the chair he sat in. "It is, rather, a very humorous circumstance, that holds my attention." He downed the contents of his glass, setting it, hard on the table, a triumphant air seeming to comb through the bones of his long, lithe body. He leaned forward abruptly, the disconcerting mirth still dancing in his eyes as he asked the question Severus had been waiting for.
"What news have you…heard…of Harry Potter, from that fool, Dumbledore?" Severus allowed a slow smile to cross his features, anger boiling beneath it unseen.
"That we have finally been rid of his everlasting presence," he said simply, eyeing Lucius Malfoy, who – Merlin – grinned.
"Indeed?"
It really only took one word for Severus' faith in Dumbledore's choice to come crashing down. The boy was alive – he had to be, for Malfoy to be looking like that, like he alone knew some incredibly wonderful secret.
"Indeed." If you touched him…
"Come, Severus." The elder Malfoy stood abruptly, leaving the evidence of their little drink to be cleared by more able hands. "The Dark Lord told me to bring you to him immediately," he explained obliquely, at Severus' shrewd glance. "We are, once more, in need of your – your expertise." Another grin flashed across his face.
Severus Snape followed Lucius Malfoy to the large, handsome hearth of the fireplace in his expensive study, quelling the urge to strangle the blond, slightly shabby aristocrat with his own breeches.
An hour later, it was all Snape could do not to kill his former friend on the spot. He'd come to the meeting, heart thudding with mixed feelings of dread and anticipation, barely registering the Cruciatus curse Voldemort negligently bandied his way, for leaving his reappearance in the Inner Circle a day later than his return to Britain. He'd stood in the familiar circle, helped, his face a bored, impassive mask, to torture a hapless Auror they had captured in the attack on Hogsmeade with his potions, and even helped to dispatch the bleeding, oozing remnants of the shaking young man that had been there before.
All the while, his mind had imagined seeing his son, conjuring images of a bloody, tortured young man, foolish green eyes still defiant with that indefinite something that came from him –
And nothing could really have prepared him worse for the sight before him now.
Near death. Two clean-sounding words; two words that could have such a host of meanings. Two words that could mean a pale, shrunken figure, slowly releasing hold of life. Two words that could also mean this battered, quasi-human body that thrashed weakly as it was dragged into the circle by two smiling Death Eaters. Two words that clearly defined the hopelessness in those green eyes as they looked wearily round the looming circle, before settling on the grey ground beneath it, as if to say, nothing new. I've seen this. I am still here. Still dying. Still living. Because of you, Severus, because of your craven –
"Examine him – now." The Dark Lord's command was unmistakeable in its intention for Severus, who stepped forward, his placid, mildly disgusted features hiding the rage, the despair, the guilt that flooded and raged through him as he cast diagnostic spells, not bothering to touch the boy – if he did, he would leave –
His gaze remained, for a tiny moment, on Lucius Malfoy, grinning beside his master, winking at Severus in promise, promising this for his false nephew. You're a dead man – either way. I'll see you die, Malfoy…
"The boy has been…used, Master," Severus put forth coldly, hearing his words echo through the now-silent clearing, as the Death Eaters stilled, waiting for the punishment his words could bring – it was well known that Voldemort wanted to perform worse crimes on the boy himself, and that any Death Eater that mistreated him out of turn would suffer a very painful punishme –
"It was my will, Severus," his master replied, almost careless in the way he set his shoulders, red eyes gleaming with amusement as his eyes sought out someone –
Veron.
Liquid fire seemed to course through Severus' veins, numbing him with rage.
My son!
"Heal him, Severus…" Even as the Dark Lord retired through his cruelly carved throne, as the circle of his most faithful followers relaxed, the bloody flesh before them stirred, and those green eyes, awful in their emptiness, met Severus' impassive black, even as he knelt down, shrugging as he opened his potions case, extracting the required –
"You TRAITOROUS BASTARD!" His son's raw voice seemed to pierce through Severus' skin, through his brain, the force of his perceived betrayal shivering through the boy's sodden flesh as he struggled to rise, the heavy manacles chains on his arms and legs dragging holes in his wounded skin, having been clacked closed once he'd entered the clearing.
"Be silent, Potter," Snape heard himself spit out, his numb limbs waving his wand about in the complex spells required for his son's healing. The laughter of the Inner Circle seemed to come from far away, as he struggled to control himself, to stop himself from seizing his son then and there, and taking him away…
"…NEVER SHOULD'VE BEEN BORN…"
He forced a potion into Harry's mouth, choking his insults from him on purpose, needing to make him get it down, trying to ignore the guilt, and the piercing, scraping grief and rage in his son's screams…
"…WISH I COULD SEE YOU BLEED TO DEATH…"
"My task is finished, Master," Snape said easily, coldly, his heart seeming to want to wrench itself from his tall, proud frame, as he reshrunk his potions case, walking away from the mangled, screaming body of his son.
"Take your vengeance if you wish it, Severus," the smooth, sibilant voice stopped him, making him quiver with what appeared, to Voldemort, to be anticipation. Another test.
Quivering with what Severus knew was shame, he turned on his son. It must be done…
"Oh, and Potter – a parting gift…Crucio!"
Apparating back to the designated street near Grimmauld Place was like a waking dream. Severus stumbled down the dark, dingy streets, shaking and shaking and shaking.
Those screams…
"…you TRAITOROUS BASTARD…"
Severus gulped the stinging night air into his lungs, clenching his bloody fists – bloody from touching his son –
His chest squeezed painfully, forcing him to slow down. He'd had to curse him – Merlin, his own son –
Harry's screamed imprecations seemed to echo over and over in his skull, driving him hysterical. He was a scheming, treacherous fiend – he was – doing that – torturing – his son – seeing him – cry – with pain – pain he'd caused –
A sob rent the air, stopping Severus in his tracks. He gripped his wand, hard, forcing the painful, stabbing grief down, forcing the memory away, but the raw, wounded voice of Harry Potter kept ranting on and on and on in his head and he couldn't think and –
Thank Merlin, he was here – Albus would – would know what to do – would –
"Severus!"
Snape, hearing his name, staggered to a stop, his breath coming in harsh gasps as he faced the Order, feeling like his guilt, his shame, was branded into the skin of his bloody hands –
"My goodness, Severus – is that blood?"
Dumbledore rose sharply at Molly Weasley's exclamation. Severus could only look at his hands, feeling them crawl with filth – with the filth of the Dark curses he'd used – he'd nearly gone too far, fearing he hadn't gone far enough –
"What is it, Severus?" The old man's tired, anxious eyes met those of his twitching spy, who blinked, and said, blankly, six words that transformed the meeting.
"He's alive – Potter is alive…"
The room exploded with noise, even as Dumbledore's fierce blue eyes scanned the black ones before him, understanding.
Knowing what he'd done – or had to do.
Severus curled his hands into fists, ignoring the shouting around him, impatient calls from Order members who desperately wanted to know how he was.
"He is in bad shape, Headmaster," Severus begun, having to shout to make himself heard. The room quieted rapidly as he continued, explaining how he'd found out. "Lucius Malfoy took me – they brought him out, after finishing with young Crabwell. He's dead, by the way." The words came out far more dispassionately than usual, a small signal that Severus knew the Headmaster would read, would notice. He took the chair offered to him, shakily sitting down.
"He was – grievously hurt, in – in a number of ways…" Snape trailed off, his face paling even more as the bloody, near-corpse seemed to loom before him again, nearly driving him, once again, to sob –
"What ways?" someone demanded sharply, breaking his now-erratic breathing pattern. Snape looked – it was that – that fool of a Ronald Weasley. His bubbling anger blazed forth, his eyes glittering with malice.
"You utter fool – is that important? Do you crave to know how much your precious friend was tortured? I'll tell you – perhaps it'll shut your gaping mouth – "
"Severus!" Dumbledore's tone carried a harsh warning, but Severus was already satisfied – the little, bloody fool was reddening, his stupid eyes filling with understanding as Granger poked him savagely, knowledge blossoming over her know-it-all features. For a moment, he could not continue, despite the Headmaster's impatience – those two fools, abandoning his son – making eyes at each other as he suffered, begged under those two monsters – "Severus," Dumbledore prompted again, more gently. "Finish your tale – there will be no more interruptions." His steely gaze raked the full room, even as Severus continued his tale of woe, knowing that his master – his true master – understood.
"He will not live long, Headmaster – we must act, and act now," Snape said the words firmly, switching his dark gaze, intent with worry and shame, onto Dumbledore, who rose again, pacing the small space around his armchair – rather less soft and comfortable than usual – as he tugged at his long beard.
"Do you know where…?" he began, turning his blue gaze back on Severus, although he already knew the answer.
Snape shook his head. "Lucius pre-linked his fireplace to the forest lair of the Dark Lord – he called nothing into the flames. The only thing we can be certain of is that it is his lair, and it is within the forest. It could be anywhere in England or Scotland, for all we know – "
"So you won't rescue him, then? Building up your excuses, aren't you?" Ron Weasley glared at him, his face a study of red misery. Snape scowled, shame and anger mixing into his deadly gaze as he started to rise, shakily, from his seat.
"How DARE you – "
"Be silent, Mr. Weasley, or you will depart this room," the stern tone, filled with chastened anger, came from nearby – McGonagall, he could see. "You and Miss Granger know your presence here is tenuous at best – if you do not behave, we will put you out!" She hissed the last two words at her blanched students, who nodded fearfully. "Do sit down, Severus – pay no mind to the foolish insinuations of Mr. Weasley. The most important thing, is – "
"Potter, Minerva – I know." Severus faced Dumbledore again. "The lair is warded, with almost everything, too – Anti-Apparation and Anti-Disapparition, and the like. The only hope for Mr. Potter is escaping by Portkey, to be honest – "
"Then it is settled," the Headmaster replied, almost immediately, sinking back into his chair. "Severus – can you risk returning?" At the nod of his spy, he continued. "Go, then – and when you go, take this," it appeared to be one of the new Order medallions that Dumbledore dangled before him. He took it quickly, feeling the cold metal warm a little at his touch. " – you will give it to Harry, as soon as you can, and tell him how to activate it." Dumbledore paused, blue eyes boring into Severus' still-pale face. "I trust you can do this without arousing suspicion…?"
Severus nodded jerkily, unable to speak.
He didn't really know he could, to tell the truth – could bear to see Harry, his son, bleeding his life away in one of those dank cells, and not activate the bloody thing himself.
Severus bowed his head, letting the sounds of the Order meeting flow around him, as they discussed the repairs in Hogsmeade and the heavy security measures that would soon take hold at both Hogwarts and Hogsmeade once the repairs were complete, and the new term was begun.
He'd have to do it. For his son.
Severus Snape wiped at his brow, almost convulsively. This was much worse – so much worse –
He just lies there – bleeding…
"Potter!" Severus whispered hoarsely, putting up the strongest, most subtle silencing ward he could manage. His heart clenched to see that battered skeleton of a boy curl up tightly into a ball – obviously to protect himself –
Snape knelt abruptly by his weak, bleeding son, whipping out the special restorative potion he'd made for the occasion fast enough to surprise himself. He reached out for his son, tenderly – he could do nothing else – "Potter – drink this – "
"Don't hurt me – I'll do it – I'll drink…" the boy turned shakily, blindly, accepting the cold vial Snape pressed to his cracked, bloody lips, willing his fingers to still – he'd spill the potions on Harry, and where would he be –
"Stop rambling!" Snape could feel the hysteria rushing into him, filling his body with an almost weightless madness – he couldn't pay attention, not with his son speaking like that, in that broken –
Get a hold of yourself!
Snape, silently banishing the emptied vial, grasped Harry's thin shoulders. He needed to check –
"Don't touch me – " his son began to wriggle weakly, pathetically, his skeletal frame shaking with fright.
"Potter – be still – "
"Don't touch me!" The boy repeated his weak mantra again and again, struggling violently as his cries became louder and louder.
For the first time in sixteen years, Severus Snape felt an incredible urge to weep.
"It's me – please, Harry – calm down – " Harry struggled harder, not seeming to hear.
"Don't – "
"Harry, please – listen to me – "
The struggles finally paused for a moment, then continued. Snape swore brokenly, retrieving the medallion. He had no time –
Harry began to grunt in pain, his struggles becoming even more violent, as the cool metal touched his skin. The sounds were filled with terror – dread –
"Petrificus totalus!" Severus muttered. There was nothing else – Harry began, abruptly, to cry, tears making grimy tracks down his drawn face, squeezing his father's heart in the grip of some awful vise. Severus forced himself to ignore it, angry tears stinging his eyes as he ran his hands over Harry's thin body, checking to see if there was anything else he could heal. There was.
Forcing himself to take a deep breath – to stop dwelling on the who and continue with his all-too-important task, Severus opened his grey case, bringing forth the strongest Energising Potion he could lay hands on.
"Drink – please – " he begged, not quite able to let go of his son, who drank uncaringly, as if he had nothing to lose. "Harry, here…" Snape bound the Order medallion to the thin, dirty neck with magical string, which would not break or fray, and would not conduct magic to Harry's already raw skin. "…that is an Order medallion keyed to you – yours was – it was removed in the attack." Snape removed the Body Bind – he needed to hold his shivering son –
He did, tightly enclosing the frail, bloody form in his arms, lifting him up to face him, trying to force open his eyes. This would be the hardest thing he would ever do.
"Listen to me, Harry – the next time Voldemort tells you to – to beg, do it – try and fire off one of those confusion spells you practiced in my – my dungeon – " The painful, bittersweet memory knifed through Severus, making him want to take his son now, anywhere – but he couldn't – "I'll – I'll try to reach you and give you a portkey – it'll activate when you say the password "help"…Harry?" He lowered his eyes to Harry's dull, green set, hoping it would work… "Can you say that?"
"Yes," his son got out, the very effort seeming to task him. Severus could not – would not – he tightened his arms around Harry, hoping, praying that this would not be one of the last times – Merlin, he should understand – just in – he must understand – I must make him –
"Forgive me," Severus whispered hoarsely, " – there is no other way – Albus needs me – I could not – I was – I could not help – "
"Go."
The footsteps that had sped and confused Severus' actions were already drawing – there was no time – it wasn't fair – Severus scrambled to his feet, not without gripping his fragile boy one last time, spitting out the mildest pain curse he could remember, his heart falling, like a stone, at the sound of Harry's haunting, hoarse screams –
"Severus – having some fun, are we, with our famous captive – " Lucius Malfoy.
If I wasn't an Occlumens…
"Indeed, Lucius." He wouldn't think, for a while, that was all. If he did, there would be no – no way he would leave the clearing without gutting this bastard – this scheming, sick bastard who had had the guts to rape his son – "Here for some…fun, yourself?" The gleam in the grey eyes spoke for itself, Lucius laughing at the comment.
"Novel way to put it, Severus – "
"No point, Lucius," Severus replied, hoping his tone was easy enough, as he glanced, negligently, disgustedly at Harry, pretending to dismiss him. "He won't be any good now – just fed him something – ah – interesting…" Lucius hesitated for a moment, then nodded, filling Severus with bright, pulsing relief. He wouldn't leave this cell, with this man still in it – he wouldn't –
"I suppose you're right, Severus," Lucius said slowly, eyeing Harry greedily, grey eyes still shining malevolently. He turned gracefully for the door. "Never mind – I can have my…fun…this evening, I suppose…" Severus laughed with him, hating him with every fibre of his being.
Someday…
If it had been bad seeing his son in the cell, seeing him now was ultimately worse. Severus fought every instinct in him that screamed that he should not just stand there, but go and save his son – his flesh and blood, who was writhing on the ground, from the pain of the Cruciatus curse, which had just left him moments earlier. Voldemort turned from him, bored, but satisfied, nodding to his eager followers, who drew nearer to the twitching body in the soil.
"Wonder what the Ministry would say now – if they could see their little hero, bleeding in the dust…" Lucius Malfoy drawled from nearby, his voice heightened with anticipation. "Wonder what they'd say if they could've seen you begging last night," he continued, stepping closer, affecting a high, frightened tone. " 'Leave me alone – please – I don't want it – please…' "
The Death Eaters roared with laughter, Severus just managing to hoist up a cruel smile. Merlin – not now – not before his own eyes – he could feel it – he knew Lucius would –
Lucius let off a severe Itching Hex, making Harry claw at himself desperately, rending his already filthy, bloody rags.
No. It just wasn't fair –
"Look at him," Malfoy jeered, stepping even closer, hands starting to dart to his cloak buttons, "I bet he wants it now – "
Severus could only watch, helpless with rage, as Lucius Malfoy's aristocratic, pale hands and limbs did unspeakable things to his son. He didn't dare – he could do nothing – the Dark Lord himself laughed behind him.
What I would give to stop this…Snape thought desperately, trying to avert his eyes from the horrible sight. Harry – please – beg – for your sake – for mine –
"I'll do it," came his son's weary, broken tone, piping clearly through the gathering. "I'll beg…" His limbs still twitched, Lucius' hex had lingered, through – through it – and he'd just withdrawn, smiling viciously, contentedly, smoothing his blond hair away, the bastard –
"Beg, then, Potter – and do not waste my time," The Dark Lord continued to chuckle behind him. "Or," he continued, striking fear into Severus' – "perhaps you require – persuasion, yet – " A movement – behind him, and no – Merlin – not Romulus Veron – he couldn't watch this – Dumbledore and his plans be damned –
"CREO SECA!" The shout, made strong by rage, echoed from behind the fat, useless figure of Veron, who had stepped in Snape's line of sight, and –
Why is everyone silent –
"A sword?" Lucius muttered behind him. But what –
"Accio wand!" The eleven inches of holly had already begun to whistle its deadly way to the battered figure at the centre of the clearing, whom Severus could now see – "Exvolvo venae!" Pandemonium erupted – Merlin, the screams –
Severus moved forward, into the fray, surreptitiously aiming shield spells at his son, watching in fascinated horror and astonishment as the fat man clawed at his mask and neck, bloody lines erupting all over his white shirt, until –
Swish – the sword of – what? – slashed his neck wide open. Severus stood stock still, as did Lucius beside him, at the sight of Romulus' choking, gurgling, dying body before them, and at the burning green eyes of the bloody skeleton before them, as a terrible smile appeared on his face, even as he spun round, unleashing the same Blood-boiling curses he'd suffered that very evening with the ease of a trained fighter, the sword of – it could only be Gryffindor – blazing an unearthly red in the dark of the dirty clearing. Severus and Lucius reacted as one, both of them sending off spells in the confusion.
Stay, Harry! Let me reach him – please…
But it was too late, and the flashes of spellfire around him were in vain, because Harry was no longer in the clearing, dodging and shielding like an Auror-in-training. Voldemort's fury at this was great, and Severus and Lucius bore the brunt of it – they had stood still too long, apparently –
But Severus' fury at himself was even greater.
He'd failed.
He shook his head as he came upon the doors of Grimmauld Place – they would skin him alive – he couldn't stop shaking – getting down to the kitchen was harder than he'd thought – so many curses –
The whispering and shouting of many voices reached through to him, even through the door – of course, it was his son, all for his son –
His son, whom he could not save –
"The medallion!"
"He's alive – "
"No location – "
"Snape said he'd given it to him – "
The slam of the door temporarily stilled the mad rush of words and bodies in the kitchen of Grimmauld Place, but only for a moment.
"Professor Snape!"
"Harry – "
"BE QUIET!" Snape roared hoarsely through the room, silencing the pale, frightened faces that confronted him. "He escaped – " The room exploded into words and hands reaching for him – "Wait – I could not reach him – they haven't found him – must tell – must tell Albus – must tell him – " The cries of dismay that filled the room shook the walls, Mrs. Weasley's wailing, the loudest of them all.
"Oh my god…"
Snape, exhausted and disheartened, could not speak even as more Order members pressed forward, demanding of him what happened, and where was Harry…The voices seemed to close in on him – he was so –
"Severus!" Albus Dumbledore's stern tone penetrated through the babble of voices. He pushed through the frantic group surrounding Snape. "Tell us – tell us what happened – "
"He called a sword – out of thin air – struck Veron – it was madness – I couldn't reach – couldn't reach – " Severus Snape began to gulp, hyperventilating in his frustration, drowning in the awful, bone-chilling waves of failure that flooded his slim frame. The whole room stilled in horror and dismay at the shaking, broken spy before them. "Albus – I gave him the medallion – I did – "
"And you did well, Severus – "
"NO!" Snape's vehement denial cut through the deafening silence like a knife. "You – you don't understand – he's gone – he – he – Potter – he wasn't – wasn't there…" Snape began to shake again, harder, beginning to sound incoherent. "Dark Lord – couldn't find – the Dark Lord – couldn't find – Potter – sent us – search the forest – the Hollow – "
"Calm yourself, Severus – you did your best…"
"The Hollow," Severus Snape repeated, even as a sleeping draught was pressed to his violently shaking lips, as hands forced him to a sitting position in one of the kitchen chairs, "Must search – Hollow – follow the – the medallion…"
And, as Severus Snape, Death Eater and Order spy, descended dizzyingly fast into the encroaching darkness, the last thing he heard was the voice of Dumbledore, as he examined the vibrating medallion on Snape's chest.
"Harry – Stone Hollow – "
Unnoticed by Snape, the whole room, once again, went still.
A/N: Here we are, again.
Sorry I haven't updated earlier – I can only do so many late nights and sadly, this was the only one of them I could spare to really get my teeth into this chapter. Hope you're not teetering too far on the edge – thankfully, tomorrow's an easy day at college – I can probably have the next chapter up by Saturday.
All I can say is, I did warn you. Until the next chapter, which will be named Chapter 12: The Nights Go Badly. Ominous, huh? Tough. ;) Until then…
