Chapter 8: If you resist evil, as soon as it's gone, you'll fold.

As consciousness returned to Severus, he could feel that one side of his body was warm, as though from a fireplace. Yet the last place that he remembered being was outside in the mud… He could also feel a rug underneath him, an old fashioned one that was a series of braids and knots, absolutely the worst type to take a nap on….

…there use to be one in his family's manor…hideous thing…orange and brown and green…

With these scattered thoughts in mind, Severus slowly opened his eyes, wincing at the brightness, which was, he realized, a fire burning hotly in the grate. Wondering why Rowena would lay him out on the rug (for she must has retrieved him from outside, how else had he managed to wander indoors?) he tried to lift himself up.

He nearly screamed as the inside of his head exploded in raw pain. It was only then that the rest of the night's entertainment returned to the front of his mind, of Voldemort exposing, cursing and finally hitting him on the back of the head, presumably with the pommel of his favourite knife.

"So the traitor awakens."

Snape didn't reply. He did not think that that was what the enraged wizard would want, and begging had never been something that worked or that Severus could stand.

"Nothing to say? Well," the Dark Lord continued, "that can be remedied." There was a rustling of cloth, a cabinet being opened, a clink of glassware.

Severus quietly tried to move himself again, even if it was just to roll over onto his back. He found that beside his head, the rest of his body was immobile, held, most likely, in a body bind charm. All the better to scream with, a voice muttered in his mind.

"Lift him up, Wormtail, into a chair."

Trembling hands took hold of him from behind and pulled him roughly into a high-backed chair. It gave Severus a chance to glance around at his surroundings. The rug he had been lying on was an old fashioned braided one, with orange, brown, and green…the empty portrait of one of his ancestors above the fireplace…the chair with the serpents around the arms, digging into the arms of the person sitting in it…

"Look familiar? I thought it might be better for us to talk here, amongst the comforts of home," Voldemort hissed in Snape's ear. He came around in front as Wormtail finished binding Snape to the chair. "Leave one hand free, Wormtail."

Another chair was in front of Snape, a large armchair with a faring back, in which the other wizard seated himself. He leaned forward and took the free hand, turning it over palm up.

"I have learned that a whole man's life may be told from his palm," Voldemort continued, tracing the lines with a long finger. "His life, his career, children, almost everything about who and what he is meant to be…" He sighed. "I need more than these hands can tell me." He took a small knife from the folds of his robes and continued to trace the heart and lifelines on the captured palm.

"And you are too skilled at Legilimancy and Occlumency for me to simply delve in. I would get nothing more than the Potion's curriculum or you staring at a blank wall. I need to delve a little…deeper…" he murmured, cutting into the life-line with the tip of the blade.

Severus could do nothing but watch as the blood welled in his cupped palm, as the other took some of the blood into a vial, mixing it with a clear liquid already there.

"I know better than to try to force this down your throat as well," the Dark Lord said softly. "You have probably already taken something to negate most poisons and potions." There was a note of pride mixed in with the calmly detached voice. "So…" He poured the vial's content onto the wound. There was a hissing noise, then as Severus watch in mute horror, the mixture entered the wound and closed it behind the last drop. Voldemort massaged the hand, moving the blood in the veins.

A sudden burning soared up Snape's veins, and an involuntary gasp escaped him. It felt as if liquid ice were moving through him, freezing everything it touched. He shuddered slightly as the mixture worked its way up his neck.

"…the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses... Isn't that what you tell your students?"

"Yes," Severus answered without thinking. The room had some of the light it had had moments ago…had a candle blown out…

"Where are we right now, Severus?"

The other responded instantly, if not a bit distractedly. "Snape Manor, 2nd floor, Isabella's Study."

"Very good," Voldemort said, patting the hand. "Now something else, a bit harder."

Snape felt as if he had been sedated with just a touch less potion than was needed to knock him fully unconscious. With a start, he realized that the liquid was in all likelihood a truth serum, perhaps the Veritiserum itself.

"Where is Potter?"

Now that was a good question. "Safe."

Voldemort narrowed his eyes. "Where is he safe?"

"Wherever Albus is."

Voldemort sighed. "You're not telling me what I need to know. Where do your loyalties rest, Snape?"

"With my lord."

"And who is that?"

"The one that I serve."

"What is his name?'

Snape swallowed hard, shaking his head.

"Answer me!"

Snape continued to shake his lowered head, then cried out when Voldemort snapped two of his fingers in quick succession. "I can't."

"Why not?"

The room had returned to its previous brightness, and his mind to its usual clarity. Severus realized that the man seated in front of him would kill him, no matter what he said. Those potions would only clear his mind for a short time before they too, succumb.

"I cannot say."

Voldemort charmed the arm back to the chair and leaned back, furious. He took Snape's wand from a pocket. " A wand knows its master. It is attuned to him, to how he works, his strengths." A paused, then: "His weaknesses."

The Dark Lord pointed the wand at its owner. "Imperio!"

The too-familiar feeling of euphoria overcame him, mixing with the truth serum. The preventative potion was swept away like dry kindling in the onslaught.

"Now, tell me what I want to know. What is Dumbledore planning?"

Severus began to recite off one of Dumbledore's more officious speeches. "He wishes to extend official ties to various wizarding communities so that none may be singled out for any-"

"Crucio!"

Severus nearly passed out as every nerve was suddenly burning. It was a hundred fold of what the normal Cruciatus curse was (and he had plenty to compare it to), as it was his personal wand that was performing it. His wand that was so attuned to him and the way that his own magic flowed through him. Those same paths were now screaming in agony.

When it was finally lifted, small noises were involuntarily from his throat. He was slumped in the chair; the only thing keeping him from falling to the floor was the magical bindings that Wormtail had put on him.

"You really don't want me to do that again, do you? You didn't enjoy that at all, did you?" The Dark Lord leaned forward and lifted the captive's head, locking gazes.

Harry Potter, cloaked against both the chill night air and Filch's prying eyes, moved quietly down the darkened corridor. He really didn't want to be caught, especially after Gryffindor had finally started to win the House points. He also didn't want to explain what he was doing out of bed at 2am again. He came up to the stone griffin only to see that it was already at the top of the tower. He felt slightly disappointed, as he'd looking forward to the delay that trying to figure out the password promised.

He paused just as he put his foot on the first step. If it were Fudge up there…but why would the Minister for Magic be at the castle at 2 am? It was probably one of the other professors, he decided. Probably McGonagall…or Flitwick.

The two sat in companionable silence, each locked in their own thoughts and coffee mugs. Finally the younger of the two spoke. "I wonder how long it will take," they murmured, drinking deep from the cooling mug.

The other's raised eyebrow spoke for them.

"For him to get up the nerve to get up here."

"Ah."

They waited a bit longer, and then drained their mugs.

"I wonder why he is waiting?"

A pause, head tilted. "Not anymore. He'll knock in 5 steps."

There was a low laugh just after Harry knocked. "Right, as always," the Headmaster said just as the door opened. Harry had already pulled off his cloak and was glad he had. The headmaster had a guest with him tonight.

"Professor Snape, ma'am," he greeted her warily. While he got along better with her than with her brother, he wasn't sure what all she knew about him, or what her brother had told her.

Rowena smiled at him slightly. "Mr. Potter." Rising, she put her empty mug on the tray beside her chair. "Goodnight, gentlemen. I'll see you both in the morning."

"Would you wait a moment, Rowena? Perhaps upstairs?"

Rowena raised her eyebrows, but climbed up the winding stair that led to the second floor and closed the door softly behind her.

"Now, Harry, what may I help you with at this late hour?" Dumbledore said as he motioned Harry to the recently vacated chair.

"It's not really help I need, Professor." Harry shifted in his chair, then plunged in. "About an hour ago, I had…well, I think I had…another visit into Voldemort's mind."

"A vision?"

Harry shook his head. "No, it was more like a snapshot of something he was seeing. Like I was seeing a photo, not a film." He stopped because Dumbledore's face had brightened with a smile.

"That's very good, Harry. You are progressing with your Occulmency lessons. You will be able to block even that with time and practice." He leaned forward in his chair, eyes serious. "But that is not what you wanted to tell me, was it?"

"No, sir. It was what I saw that I thought I should come to talk to you about."

Dumbledore nodded. "Go ahead. Start with the surroundings and work your way into the people."

"Alright," Harry said slowly, sorting his thoughts accordingly. He started with the dark room, hearth bookshelf and paintings on the wall. He went next to the furniture (desk, armchair, side table) then to the light in the room (which came only from the fire) and finished with the rugs on the floor.

"Voldemort was in the armchair, his snake curled at his left-no, right side. He looked stronger than when I saw him last, not as gaunt and skeleton like." Harry paused here, then pressed forward. "There was someone lying on the floor in front of him."

Dumbledore leaned back and wove his fingers into a steeple. "What did the person look like, Harry?"

"I couldn't tell very much. They were wearing dark robes and their face was hidden. I think that they were hurt or had just been cursed."

Dumbledore tilted his head slightly. "And what lead you to that conclusion?" he asked, as if questioning his reasons in an essay.

Harry frowned. "They seemed hunched over, not relaxed. Like they were in pain…"

"Alright, Harry. Thank you for telling me this. I want you, however to work extra hard on your lessons, to block out everything to do with Voldemort." He trailed off as the young man nodded and bade him goodnight. Disappearing beneath his father's old cloak, Harry left the office, the door seeming to close of its own accord.

Rowena, upon hearing the door close and the silence afterwards, made her way down the stairs. Looking up, Dumbledore smiled again and motioned her the rest of the way down. "How much of our little chat did you hear?"

"How much did you want me to hear? You have a permanent spying charm on the room." Rowena shook her head in mock disapproval. "Have to admit, though, that he does have a good recall. Almost as good as Severus's."

"Indeed. My thoughts almost exactly." Dumbledore sighed. "However, there is every possibility that this was sent and not seen. Harry is quite aware of that possibility as well."

"You're not worried I take it?"

Dumbledore settled back in his chair. "Severus has been gone this long before."

Rowena stared at him.

"If you wish, I will have Remus look into it. He is already keeping an eye on a few spots for me."

"One more won't hurt him," Rowena said, smiling. "Thank you, Albus."

The Headmaster waved away her thanks and offered her one of his lemon drops.

Author's Note: Thanks, Duj, for pointing out that little bit, this story had started as three different ones. A few little points got missed between my Beta and me when the final edit came down. (Actually, half of this chapter got lost and had to be rewritten from memory. Keep up the reviews please!