Chapter Fifteen

Harry was indeed proud of himself. He had convinced Mundungus Fletcher to buy him a vial of Polyjuice Potion (the man would have done anything for money and a bottle of fine whiskey) and now good old Dung lay drunk hidden at Grimmauld Place while Harry had joined the Order looking like him. The fact that the effect of potion would last for only an hour was something he didn't trouble himself with; he would have to deal with it later when the time came. It was almost hilarious that no one had noticed he wasn't Fletcher. When Shacklebolt had informed them of Aurors' plans, Dumbledore had hurried to reach Snape sooner than them. Unfortunately, both groups arrived at the same time to what looked like a harmless, pretty country house and then chaos ensued.

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A low branch of a tree got caught in Snape's fine new robes. It tore at them as he hurried after the Dark Lord who was dragging him away from the house. He nearly stumbled on a rock, but didn't complain as he felt something strange radiating from Voldemort to him through the bond. Uncertainty hit him, settling on his heart like a black raven as he was led further into a forest. He tried to calm down, thinking about the potion he had given to Lupin. It had effected him stronger than Pettigrew, why? Weren't werewolves supposed to be stronger than humans? Especially humans like this pitiful excuse of a wizard. On the other hand… when had the last Full Moon been? Lupin always appeared ill after the transformation, ill and tired, and he hadn't had any Wolfsbane to help him. Had he killed him?

So what if he had? What did it matter that there was one bloodthirsty monster less in the world? The Dark Lord had been pleased. Severus smiled at the thought, yet feeling something weird creeping into his heart; it gave him no peace. Fear.

What was his master planning to do? Why were they going deeper into the forest? Snape clutched his wounded hand to his chest and felt how wildly his heart was beating. Fear.

"Hurry up, Snape!" yelled Voldemort angrily, speeding up and Severus gasped as fear gripped him stronger. Why that anger in the tone? Why 'Snape' and not 'dear child' or 'Severus'? He stumbled on a rock and nearly fell, but the Dark Lord grabbed his hair and although it prevented him from falling, the pain of it sent tears into Snape's eyes. He cried out, his vision blurred. Voldemort laughed dryly and taking hold of his wrists, he pinned Snape to a tree. Again he smiled and gently, almost affectionately, he ran his fingers through the younger wizard's silken hair. Enjoying his fear, he bent to his ear and whispered softly, "You're afraid of me, Severus."

The shudder that shook Snape's body brought another smile to Voldemort's face, his stomach contracted with excitement… with expectation. "Tell Lord Voldemort why you fear him."

Severus closed his eyes and swallowed. What was happening to him, why suddenly this fear? It was the Dark Lord, his master, he had nothing to be afraid of, he had shown his loyalty, had killed and tortured for him again…

"Lord Voldemort is waiting."

His heart was beating very fast now and when he opened his eyes, he saw the Dark Lord's scarlet, slit-pupilled eyes staring at him.

"Because…" he whispered, "I've always respected you greatly, your power, your ideas…"

"Did you now, my little Judas?" smiled Voldemort, caressing Snape's cheeks with his spidery fingers. Severus leaned into the touch, enjoying the cold comfort it falsely provided. "Would you have served me if I hadn't put this binding spell on you?"

"Yes, I would."

"Yes, eventually you would, you have no one else who trusts you, no other option. It that so, Severus?" Voldemort asked while one of his hands slipped to Snape's neck, never stopping its caress.

"Yes, I have no one but you."

"Do you trust me? Do you want to serve me again? Are you willing to re-join the dark side?"

The red eyes were intent on Snape's. "Yes, master."

"Will you serve me and only me?"

"Yes, master"

An ugly smile spread through Voldemort's lips. "Good."

The hand on Severus's neck stilled while the Dark Lord was gazing into Snape's eyes.

Snape too tensed, waiting nervously.

Slowly the emotionless look in Voldemort's blood-coloured eyes gave way to rage and Snape became vividly aware of the fact that he was in danger. Very quiet he went, raising his eyebrow in mute question.

Voldemort laughed. "Very well, Severus. Can you feel my emotions now? What can you feel?"

No answer was heard from Snape who was staring at him wide-eyed and frozen. The ghastly white face of his master leaned to his and his hand took hold of Severus's bandaged wrist. Snape shook his head, unable to utter a word. Instead he reached out and touched Voldemort's face – very softly, with fingers trembling and pleading silently. The Dark Lord jerked away, glaring at him angrily. "How dare you touch me with that treacherous hand? CRUCIO!"

Snape cried out and crumpled to the ground. In an instant, Voldemort's hand smacked him across the face before he saw it coming. Pain shot into him like a white-hot iron fist, worse than he had ever known, squeezing the air from his lungs in a heart-wrenching fear. Where he intended a scream, he managed only a faint moan, so intense was the pain – pain caused by hatred and anger he could feel through the bond.

"Stop, please…" he gasped, but Voldemort went on. He kicked him hard into the ribs and cursed him again and again until Snape lay limp, shaking and crying on the ground.

"Surely you didn't think I deal mercifully with traitors?" smirked the Dark Lord and walked over to where Snape lay. He placed one booted foot on his chest to still his weak struggles. "It's a pity, though," he said conversationally, "I appreciated working with you. You had a brilliant mind…" the foot pressed hard on his ribcage, "Pity, pity, pity."

A dagger flashed in Voldemort's hand, Severus recognised it as the one he had used to bind him. "No," he whispered in horror and began to struggle, trying to escape. But the Dark Lord had his hand immediately in his hair, preventing it.

"Where would you like to go, child?" he asked playfully, pressing the dagger against Snape's throat.

At the look in the dark eyes he laughed and yanked Severus's head back, exposing the white skin of his throat. The pressure increased and a few drops of blood coloured the shining blade. Severus gasped and watching him, Voldemort bent to his throat and planted a kiss there, licking away the warm drops. He laughed against the skin, feeling his victim shudder in fear.

"You have no idea how sweet pure blood is," he murmured, and without warning bit hard down on Snape's neck.

Snape screamed, trying to push his master away. Although he had never been good in "Muggle way of fighting", he had no wand now to defend himself and no other way just to launch at Voldemort, determined to fight for his life. The Dark Lord had always been one of those men whose mere presence was enough to ignite aggression. Snape grabbed Voldemort's wrist firmly, hoping for him to drop the dagger and Voldemort gripped Snape's injured hand, grinding the frail bones together.

"I'm stronger, Severus," grinned the Dark Lord, studying the pained face of his Death Eater. Snape let go of his hand and in an instant, Voldemort stabbed him under the ribs.

The younger wizard ceased his struggles, he stiffened and the dark eyes shot wide open, then narrowed in pain. A glistening pearl of a tear escaped the corner of his eye, trickling down the white cheek. Severus closed his eyes and moaned as Voldemort withdrew the dagger and stood up, taking a step backwards.

He regarded the broken form of his once faithful Death Eater with loathing. The way he lay there, his bandaged hand open beside him, his face turned to the Dark Lord; it made his blood boil. He gathered him up just to slam him down again and beat him. His knee drove into his chest; he pinned him down, strangling him, clutching at his neck. Severus turned his head from side to side, his eyes growing bigger in horror, saying nothing. When he felt him weak and limp, Voldemort rose and pointed his wand at him.

"You don't deserve death, traitor," he hissed. Slowly and carefully, he invoked the bond to become visible – a thin green rope coming from him and binding Snape, who groaned weakly, "No, please…"

"I hope you can feel my hatred, my disappointment," he laughed, "because now I severe the bond!"

He raised the dagger… "No, no… oh, please…"

Let it glow hypnotically in the light for Severus to see, practically feeding on his fear and pain, and then severed the magical bond swiftly.

Snape cried out, feeling as if the sharp blade had cut into his heart.

His eyes closed, his head rolled to a side and unconsciousness spread its dark wings over him.

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Harry was careful to avoid the battle. There was only one thing he wanted to do – find the greasy git. Curse him. Kill him. Or whatever, cause him pain. He longed for seeing him suffering, the cruel sadist. He should suffer for everything he had done, for betraying Dumbledore and the Weasleys, he so deserved it.

The battle field was a chaos… Aurors were angry with Dumbledore and the Order, but eventually they were sensible enough to unite against the Death Eaters. Harry noticed Lucius Malfoy giving out orders. Why him? Where was Voldemort?

He moved from one hiding place to another, determined not to be seen. What would Dumbledore do if he saw him? Suddenly he was feeling guilty. Dumbledore had always protected him and now he goes without his consent off to a battle. But the headmaster had been too soft to Snape…

He heard a scream, away from the battlefield. He cast one last look at the fighting wizards (Malfoy fought with Dumbledore himself) and rushed off after the sound.

And there he found him, lying in grass and unmoving. Harry pointed his wand at him, feeling adrenaline running in his veins. Here was the moment. There he was, on his own, and the greasy git was… was he unconscious? How come? The battle hadn't come this far yet. Was he hurt?

With a sigh he sat into the grass, his eyes fixed on Snape. He couldn't kill a defenceless man, not even this traitor. He, a Gryffindor, shouldn't lower himself to the level of Slytherins. Then again, he doubted he would have killed him had he been conscious. He had wanted him to beg, to plead for his life, that would have been pretty satisfying. But this moment of stillness, it was a misery.

Snape's face was turned to him; his eyes closed and… were his cheeks wet? Harry shuddered at the thought. His eyes took in the bruised lips which were slightly open and shining with drops of blood, the horrid whiteness of the face, more blood on the neck… A powerful feeling of satisfaction washed over Harry and he thought he might be sick. Snape was injured, that shouldn't please him. That was so very wrong and although he knew he, he couldn't quite fight it.

He crawled a bit closer to him and hesitated, then quickly swept away the dark hair (Soft and silken, that was terrifying!) and checked for a pulse. Alarmingly faint it was, but it was there. Was he dying? He could smell blood in the air and Snape's hand… the bandages were soaked up with blood and there was blood on his robes… too much blood. It lingered in the air, everywhere around, mixed with something very dark, very evil. Harry stood up, his face horror-stricken.

"So here he is," came a cold voice from behind his back, causing Harry to flinch. It belonged to one of the Aurors; Harry had already seen him once in Dumbledore's office.

"Murderer," he spat and kicked the unconscious Potions Master, "I hope that Dementors will give him their best treatment."

This time Harry shuddered, unable to take his eyes off Snape's pale face. "I should have killed you," he murmured.

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End of Part 1

TBC…

Author's notes: Don't worry, this is not yet the end, just end of the first part, I'll continue soon. Sorry that this up-date took me so long, somehow this chapter was incredibly difficult to write. I'm feeling all cheery and happy, that may be the reason (when I started the story, I was feeling pretty depressed and sad, so it was easy to write). I hope you all had a wonderful Christmas and yay for JKR! I wanted to up-date the story on the day when she announced she finished the HBP, I switched on the PC and saw the news… I just couldn't concentrate on anything, especially not on something sad.

Thank you very much for your reviews and big thanks to those who reviewed by other story too (Amaurotum – difficult this tittle is…).