Chapter Eleven

The door to Lucius's cell flew open and banged against the wall, the harsh sound of it causing the Death Eater to leap from his chair in alarm. Dumbledore had left but minutes ago and he hadn't expected any other visit. It was Auror Dawlish, standing there with a murderous rage in his eyes that Lucius didn't understand. The unpleasant smirk paralysed Malfoy's body in terror. What did this man want? He hadn't done anything to harm him.

"So you know Snape well," hissed the Auror and Lucius retreated into a corner. "I advise you to tell me where that son of a bitch is, every possible place where he may be or…"

He laughed dryly and pointed his wand at the terrified Death Eater. "Or you'd wish for death."

§§

Snape woke up with a start in the middle of a night, his heart pounding painfully against his chest. There was someone in the room; he could detect a faint, human scent. A familiar scent… He rose on his elbows and squinted into the dark of the bedroom.

"Why the hell are you staring at me?" he groaned and ran a hand through his hair in an attempt to wake himself. While the presence was familiar though unseen, the room felt oddly alien. Why?

"Awake, are we? I didn't want to wake you up, dear child."

Snape raised one fine eyebrow. "Then enlighten me, master, why have you been watching me?" He gave a huge yawn, not bothering to cover it. "Don't you trust in your binding spell?"

"I have no doubts about the quality of my magic, Severus," said Voldemort softly with a smile noticeable in his voice, "but I worry about you. How are you feeling?"

His face emerged from the darkness as he came closer and sat on Severus's bed. Snape raised his head and pulled his blanket around himself. He narrowed his eyes, but he only thing he could see was Voldemort's face with glowing red eyes and dimly the outline of the bed… a different bed, not the one he had used in the tower of the Lestrange Castle. The Dark Lord moved a little and positioned himself next to Severus, their backs against the headboard. Severus chuckled softly, bowed his head and smiled.

"Why are you smiling?"

"I might just be going insane," shrugged Snape with a smirk on his pale face, "You tell me. You make me feel like a puppet whose strings are in your hands. You certainly know everything, so tell me."

An arm came around Severus's thin shoulders, drawing him closer to the Dark Lord until they were shoulder to shoulder.

"You're distressed, but that's understandable so soon after the binding," said Voldemort, caressing Snape's arm soothingly, "Tell me, truthfully, how are you feeling?"

Suddenly Severus was struck with an intense rage and he couldn't fight it back, he didn't want to. He felt Voldemort stiffening next to him; he must have felt his anger through the bond. Severus leaped from the bed and slapped him so hard he surprised even himself and Voldemort to appeared to be stunned, certainly expecting anything but this.

"Thank you for your genuine interest, my lord," whispered Snape in a low, cold voice laced with venom, "It is so touching, I'm deeply moved…"

He never had the chance to finish the sentence as Voldemort jumped from the bed and caught Snape by his throat. The younger wizard gasped and struggled for air, but the strong hand only tightened more firmly around his throat.

"I've given you a second chance," hissed the Dark Lord, malice glowing in his eyes, "I've let your father go. This is how you repay me?"

He threw him to the floor and whipped out his wand. "Is this your gratitude?" he yelled and Severus groaned when he felt the stabs of his anger at his heart. How was this bond working? Could they feel each other's emotions? What he felt now wasn't his wrath anymore and it was clutching painfully at his heart, tearing it apart. It was the most dreadful feeling, fear of being hated by Voldemort and it was hurting him, he was certain that it could kill him. He reached his hand to him, unable to form a word, but the Dark Lord knocked it away and Severus bit his lower lip hard, drawing blood. He grew white and trembled. He clenched his hands together in silent prayer and his voice seemed to catch in his throat, "Please, my lord…" he murmured.

The only answer his pleas was a cold laughter. The Dark Lord looked down at him, laughed and then took hold of his arm and was dragging him none too gently downstairs into a damp, earthy cell. There he flung Severus down to the floor, his lips curling in disdain. "You disappoint me, Severus. I believed that your words were truthful, that you were willing to serve me again. I would have given you everything. It was foolish of me to think that you would let go of your pride and stubbornness!"

Severus rose to his feet and with an expression of pain in his pallid face, came across a cell to Voldemort. He put his hand upon his arm, but he thrust it back.

"Don't leave me here, my lord," he pleaded, "Don't leave me here with this bond. Severe it."

"Severus, you have no idea what you're asking for," smiled Voldemort icily, "I doubt that you would if I broke it. Does it hurt you now? Imagine how more horrific the pain would be if I were to severe this bond in anger."

And in a calm, cold voice, he added, "I'm going." He turned on his heel and left the cell, locking Snape in it. A low moan broke from Severus and he rested his forehead against the heavy iron door, feeling the pull of the spell with Dark Lord's leaving. Every step away from him tore at his heart savagely, clawing at it like a hungry vulture.

"Come back," he whispered and his voice was filled with pain, "Don't leave me alone in your disappointment."

It was as if a part of him had left him and he was sure that he couldn't live without that part. All I want is to be where you are; he thought and now understood Arenwald's sorrowful gaze. Is it worthy enough of what you've given to the Dark Lord? He had given too much, he knew that, but what other choice had he had? The knowledge that he wouldn't be able to live a full life without Voldemort was terrifying. For how long would he be left here on his own? What if Voldemort would forget him here? Would he die then?

He cast down his eyes and saw his bare feet. Only a thin, white nightgown – that was all he was wearing and the coldness of the cell was beginning to crawl under his skin. Slowly he sank down to the ground with his back against the door. "Come back," he whispered again and this time fear and loneliness had crept into his voice. Never before had he felt as lonely as now when the only man who had shown kindness to him in these last few days abandoned him.

§§

Dumbledore was lost in his thoughts when he returned to Hogwarts and headed to his office. He would have to go to Grimmauld Place too, but he needed time on his own to think first. To enter the Lestrange Castle, they would either need a Death Eater or a close family member. The closest family members, Lucius had said. Lucius Malfoy would be the best choice, there was no other Death Eater in prison, but… How far would he go to save his cousin? He had no idea that Lucius and Severus were so closely related, but when he thought more about it, Lucius and Tarquin had the very same grey eyes. Suddenly Dumbledore halted before the entrance to his office – both the staircase and the door was opened. Quickly he rushed inside to find Tarquinius Snape seated in an armchair opposite his desk, sipping firewhiskey and smoking. Fawkes was flying around him, waving his wings irritably. At that moment Dumbledore's heart almost stopped beating.

"What are you doing here?" How could he have escaped from Voldemort? Unless Severus…

"I'm back, can't you see? Smoking and drinking. No other joys left to me in this stinking word," replied the older Snape, sounding quite sober. Dumbledore flung himself into a chair at the desk.

"Where's your son? Where's Severus?"

"I have no son," said Tarquinius coldly, flicking ash onto the mahogany desk. Dumbledore shuddered at his tone. Yes, it sounded cold as it often had when he was talking about his son, but there was also a trace of deep sorrow or shock. "I used to have a son," continued Snape and the headmaster shivered. Severus couldn't be dead, could he? "But he was a traitor and a murderer. He was a man I didn't understand, but also a noble, brave man, stronger than I had thought him. I don't have a son anymore."

He poured himself another glass of firewhiskey and spilled some of it as his hand shook. "I think I'll get married again," he frowned as if the prospect of marriage wasn't much to his tastes, "and I'll conceive another son. Do you know any young, fertile women? You could give me a list of your older female Slytherin students; it would be most helpful. Rich and pureblood females, I should add."

Dumbledore stared transfixed at him, "Have you gone completely insane, Tarquin? Where's Severus? What happened to him?"

The grey eyes grew even colder upon the mention of Severus's name. "Insane? You all think me insane, but unfortunately, I'm as sane as a wizard can be. It's a pity, I would have preferred insanity to this bloody reality."

"What happened to Severus?" asked Dumbledore again, becoming more and more nervous. Tarquin's words were telling one story, but his eyes quite another. He saw sorrow behind the grey coldness as he peered closely into his eyes.

"The bastard is well and comfortable at Dark Lord's side. He took him back, Severus returned to him. Is there anything else you want to know?"

Tarquinius lit himself another cigarette and continued smoking. "The Dark Lord let me go… Severus's request, I suppose, a gift for his betrayal of the light side."

Wish a sigh Dumbledore buried his face in his hands. This all was… unbelievable. He hated himself for the suspicions he was feeling. Severus had chosen Tom Riddle. No, Severus hadn't had a choice; he had certainly wanted his father safe. Or not… Tom was a wizard of extraordinary power of personality, he knew Severus since he was born, he knew him at least as much as he, Albus, did if not better.

Tarquinius rose from the armchair, took the bottle of firewhiskey and went to the door. "I need a long, long sleep, I'll be in… his quarters."

Dumbledore watched him descending the stairs. They had another man wearing a dark mark and able to enter the Lestrange Castle, but he doubted that Severus was any longer there.

§§

In Severus's living room, Tarquinius collapsed exhausted onto a sofa. The room was a mess as if a tornado or a potion accident had taken place there. Aurors maybe, he thought and reached down for scattered photographs on the floor. He hadn't known that… he… had kept any old photos, his… son… was hardly a sentimental man. His eyes fell onto a picture of himself – young and strong, holding his little son in his arms. He reached for another photo, which depicted him wasted and aged and next to him… Severus… stood; his eyes cast down, his hair obscuring his face. He looked small and think, but when he raised his head, hatred burned clearly in his dark eyes. Tarquinius put his cigarette to the picture and watched with fascination how it caught fire and burned slowly. The photo-Severus closed his eyes and turned his face away, but fast enough for Tarquinius not to see the pained expression in it.

§§

Author's note: Long time no see, I know. I've been very busy lately, school is draining me of all energy and my exams aren't going as well as expected. Therefore I doubt that I will be able to update more often that this, sorry. I also had problems with my PC (thousands of viruses!) and… love is in the air… But I hope that you like the chapter anyway.

I was also asked for the translation of the spell Voldemort used, so here it is: Your body to mine, your soul to mine, your life is mine, you are mine.

Thank you very much for the reviews, all of them are welcomed. Keep reviewing, comments are always needed.