I haven't got time to up-date sooner, but here is the next chapter. I know I said that this would be about Dumbledore, but I've decided against it. When I wrote it, it seemed boring, so I've decided to use only his dialogue with Moody (italics) which Snape saw in a Pensieve. Hope you'll like it.

Chapter Five

The soft silver light coming from a Pensieve illuminated the darkening room in tower, changing the two men into dark shadows. One of them was lying on a bed with his back turned to the other who sat there, watching him silently. The younger of them, Severus Snape, was clutching a pillow tightly to his chest as if it was his only hope to save him from drowning. His long raven hair lay sprawled on another pillow, strikingly black against the older man's white hand. A dreadful feeling of pain had crept over him to torment his soul and it radiated from every cell of is body, making the hand tremble. Many times it had reached out to touch him, but had always drawn back as if scared of the man's pain.

Had he been younger, a child, he would have hidden under the bed to cry. Snivellus would have cried himself to sleep, but Severus was too numb to shed a tear, too empty. He wished he could feel more, he wanted to, more to torture and punish him. Life had suddenly become too hideous a burden and he had run, unable to bear it. After the initial shock and guilt, calmness had settled onto him again and he could think clearly. What he had seen in the Pensieve brought more pain and numbness, but nothing else. Lost felt he, drowning, and the only one who has offered to help him was the darkest wizard alive.

Snape pressed his mouth into a tight line when the hesitant fingers touched his hair. He sucked in a sharp breath and a shiver run down his spine. Why was he touching him again? If only he could leave him alone with his pain! Solitude was what he needed for survival. Lost, his head in turmoil and yet empty, he felt he had no will, he was exhausted.

You shouldn't have trusted a Death Eater, Albus! Once a Death Eater, always a Death Eater. Don't you remember how he said he wasn't strong enough? Snape's just a bloody traitor, a snake shedding his skin!

In the Pensieve he had seen Dumbledore, Moody and Lupin standing around the dead healer's body. Seeing Dumbledore crying had been one of the worst things he ever experienced. And Moody had been right; he was a traitor, a traitor of both sides. Never really had he belonged somewhere. As if his heart was beating itself to death in some empty hollow, that's how it felt. And that young man . . . so young and innocent! Had he been his student once?

The fingers stroked his hair tenderly in a mock imitation of fatherly touch, preventing him to think coherently.

No, Alastor, Severus wouldn't . . . he . . . no . . . I know him!

Dumbledore had wept, he had fallen to his knees, trembling and crying. Snape couldn't cry.

"I feel pain," whispered Severus into the pillow, aware of coldness enveloping him. The disturbing fingers entangled themselves in his hair, massaging his scalp slowly. Despite his dislike of physical contact, this touch was rather pleasant and soothing, not tormenting. There were times when he allowed it, even needed it, but only certain people were given that privilege and Voldemort wasn't one of them.

He's never been completely out of dark, Albus. Just look at his teaching methods, his continuous obsession with Dark Arts, and his friendship with Malfoy! He killed this boy! And look what Voldemort wrote – 'there's no suitable words to express my gratitude for sending back my Severus'. He says my Severus! 'I highly appreciate his skills in Dark Arts and Potions . . .' He doesn't even seem like punishing him, Albus! That means Snape's been all this time on his side, fooling us!

"Let me ease your pain," spoke Voldemort softly and put his arm around Snape, pulling him close to his chest. He recoiled, filled with disgust and the Dark Lord smiled.

"Don't be afraid of me, Severus."

Behind his smile there was a promise that he knew great things or terrible things and Severus found himself studying him with a detached fascination. How could he know that the memories in the Pensieve were real? The Dark Lord could have made them up to persuade him. But . . . The sound of his wand breaking was still haunting his mind, Dumbledore had broken it. Did he hate him now? Was he capable of hatred? Perhaps he had never known the real Snape, hadn't allowed himself to accept he had a dark side.

Severus, why?

He was beginning to feel cold and dizzy, drained.

I've contacted the Aurors, Albus. Some went to search the Snape Manor; some are on their way to school. Dawlish is coming too. As for Snape, I promise that the bastard will pay.

Severus winced when he remembered the grief transforming into wrath in Dumbledore's face. Voldemort pulled him into an embrace again, rubbing his back. Not finding it comfortable at all, Snape attempted to draw away, but was held tightly.

"You're so tense, my child," whispered Voldemort, "and dreadfully thin," he added, feeling the bones under Snape's skin and clothes. "Delicate, one would say, but oh so murderous!"

A look of pity came into the dark eyes and freeing himself from the embrace, Severus stretched out his slender hand, waving it in front of Voldemort's face like a ballet dancer. "So I am, my Lord. We'll be in hell together. Can you imagine what does it look like?"

Something flickered in Voldemort's eyes and Snape leaned closer to him, inspecting him. In his soft, silken voice he sneered, "I've lived in hell for most of my life. What about you? I believe you know very well what hell is, master. You know what awaits you there."

Sensing something in the Dark Lord he had never before experienced in him, Snape touched his cheek lightly. "You're so very afraid of death, aren't you? What else do you fear?"

He felt the skin beneath his fingers stiffen. "Suffering? No, it must be a lack of power, lack of control. What about being helpless?"

Much to his surprise, the Dark Lord's face became ghastly white as he snatched Snape's hand, making him cringe in pain. Severus's black eyes widened, terror swept his courage away when he saw Voldemort's intense anger. Bloody hell, what was he thinking? Looking for Voldemort's inner demons? Helplessness! He knew he had touched a nerve, obviously something to do with his past. The Dark Lord must have known how it felt to be helpless, his eyes were telling him that and Severus instinctively knew they weren't lying. Gasping for air, the roar of blood deafening in his ears, Snape shuddered in fear.

An icy smile spread Voldemort's pale lips. "That is none of your business, Severus!" he hissed through clenched teeth. "Come, you need a walk."

He pulled the wary Potions Master to his feet and dragged him out of the room, outside to the garden. Severus didn't protest, relieved that the Dark Lord had chosen not to give in to his rage and hoping he didn't plan on feeding him to some evil plant. One could expect anything but harmless roses from Bellatrix Lestrange's garden. Abruptly, Voldemort halted, turned to him and gripped his arms just below the shoulders.

"Severus, we have more in common than you think, that's why I understand you so well," he said in a stern voice and shook him once. "But never try to dig in my past, I'm no more who I used to be then, it has no relevance to me. However, if you try to be clever with me again, I warn you, I will be forced to punish you."

Severus nodded in agreement and absentmindedly reached out to stroke a beautiful white rose. Sadly he smiled at the flower.

"I thought you wanted to punish me right here."

"I can control my emotions."

"Yes," sighed Severus, enthralled by the beauty of the rose. He couldn't take his eyes off it; he admired the perfect whiteness of its petals and their delicate scent. "You also have my father. You have me in your captivity. You made me a murderer again, however, for that I'm equally responsible."

His voice was low and melancholic as he continued stroking the rose, "My father is disappointed in me again, he thinks me weak. Dumbledore is disappointed too. If I ever run away from you, where will I go? Aurors will lead me straight for a Dementor's Kiss. If I stay here, who among the Death Eaters will trust me? I'm a traitor of both sides. I betrayed you, the Death Eaters, Dumbledore, my father, me . . . This rose is strange."

Voldemort looked at the white rose under Snape's hand and shrugged, ignoring his previous words, "Seems normal to me, don't be paranoid, just a . . . Severus!"

All of a sudden, the rose bit into Snape's hand like a snake, hissing loudly. Although Voldemort grabbed Snape and pulled him away from the flower, it was too late. Severus's hand was swelling as if bitten by a venomous insect and if he hadn't been supported, he would have fallen to the ground. A wave of dizziness overcome him, the garden began to tilt and then to float. All the flowers mingled into a hot, pulsing blur and closing his eyes, Severus collapsed into Voldemort's arms. No longer was he aware of his surroundings, he didn't feel the Dark Lord pick him up and didn't hear him swear and threaten Bellatrix.

"Bella! Bella! Come here at once, you brainless gardener or I'll melt your bones, one by one!"

No one seemed to hear him, so he rushed back to the castle, cursing under his breath. "Why in the name of Salazar did I have to make him kill the healer?"

TBC

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Author's notes: The weather has finally improved, so I'll be probably spending more time outdoors, meaning that sometimes I won't be able to update every week (but I'll do my best to up-date frequently). Thank you very much for your reviews!