Chapter Twenty-One

The gruesome figure of a Dementor was looming over a quivering skinny man curled in a corner. Every single breath by the dark creature made the cell colder and sent shivers through the prisoner's body. Snape covered his face with his shaking hands as if that could protect him from the memories appearing before his eyes. Since there weren't many happy memories that would feed the Dementor, Snape belonged to one of those people who were most vulnerable to these grim creatures. "Please," he managed to plead; though his voice was weak and shaking. It sounded scared and scared he Snape was, petrified his blood running cold, whole his thin frame trembling.

The Dementor took a deep breath, sucking in the air and hope, memories worth remembering and cherishing, and Severus's hands flew to his hair as he screamed.

At first Dawlish laughed, but the fear and pain in Snape's eyes nearly turned his blood to ice. When the Dementor's skeletal fingers tilted Snape's face up, he saw tears running down his deathly pale cheeks. His face was drained of all colour and his eyes widened in fear. But the worst was the look in those eyes - so much misery the Auror had rarely seen before and many things had he already experienced. Snape reminded him of the screaming figure from his favourite Muggle painting by Munch. In panic he tore the barred door open and rushed into the cell, forcing the Dementor back, fending him off the prisoner. A silvery mule floated out of his wand, Dawlish's Patronus, and galloped to the dark creature that fled into the darkness of Azkaban's endless corridors.

When he made sure that the Dementor had indeed left, Dawlish knelt to the Death Eater, examining him. Snape sat huddled in the corner, his eyes closed, face unearthly pale, his breathing coming in gasps. He appeared barely conscious, but then the Auror noticed him murmuring something softly, almost inaudibly. "Help me, master… Save me… I'll obey… Help me…" he was saying over and over again, pleading so quietly and never stopping, on and on he went with his litany, "Help me, master… Save me… I'll obey…"

"Snape, stop it," whispered Dawlish, running a shaking hand over his short wiry hair, "Stop, please."

"Help me… Save me, master… I'll obey… Help me…"

"Snape…"

"Help me…"

Searching through his pockets, Dawlish found a half-melted piece of chocolate, which he pushed into Snape's mouth. Unable to speak with his mouth full, Severus gulped and in an instant he felt warmth spreading through his cold body. Still shaken, he covered his face with his hands, horrified by what had happened.

"I'm sorry," he whispered.

Dawlish didn't have time to wonder what he was sorry for when his wand started to vibrate. Alarms! Had someone broken into Azkaban again? He jumped to his feet, but before he could react to the situation, a tall man (or was that a vampire?) materialised before him and threw him against the wall.

§§

Arenwald smirked as the unconscious Auror sank to the ground, limp like a rag doll, then turned his attention to the Potions Master. He could tell that the man was shaken by something, what had happened there? He was staring wide-eyed at him, the onyx eyes glittering like gemstones, but was it fear or hope that Arenwald saw in them? No, he hadn't got time contemplating it, thanks to his vampiric skills he was the first to reach Snape, but the Death Eaters would follow soon. He went down on his knees and pulled Snape into an embrace, cradling his head to rest in the crook of his neck. He heard him ask quietly, "Has my master sent you?" and Arenwald nodded, knowing how much the wizard longed for hope.

Gently he brushed away his matted hair to reveal the pale neck and the tempting vein there. He took a deep breath, savouring the sweet fragrance of Snape's skin and blood hidden under it, so tempting, so overwhelming! Malfoy would kill him, his cousin, he had no doubt about it and he knew that it could break Snape's heart, dying by the hand of a man who had always been close to him. The professor's soft breathing was tickling his skin pleasantly while he pondered his options. Should he kill him in an act of mercy? Should he leave Voldemort play his games to the very end and have Malfoy suffer, plagued by the memory of killing his own cousin? His brother, as he had heard him say once. Or should he… He dared not think about the third option, but as Snape dropped his hand, the thin fabric of his grey tunic slipped from his shoulder, revealing more of his white skin. The Potions Master moved his hand, meaning to put the tunic right into its place, but Arenwald took hold of the bony wrist, stopping him. He lowered his mouth to Snape's neck, breathing him in his scent again, feeling it overpowering him. Reason left him as he grabbed the professor's hair, tilted his head back and flashed his fangs, ready to sink them into Snape's flesh.

§§

Alastor Moody, Albus Dumbledore and Remus Lupin had apparated to the island and ran to the tall castle-like building of Azkaban. Albus was determined to have a word with Dawlish and do whatever was in his power to see Severus despite the Auror's strict rules. Great was their surprise when they found Azkaban under attack, Aurors fighting the Death Eaters and vampires. "Alastor, inform the Order!" shouted Dumbledore and with Lupin the rushed to fight their way to Snape's cell, wands at the ready.

§§

"Incendio!" cried Lucius, throwing Arenwald off Severus. The vampire's shriek filled the cell, crawling under his skin, chilling to the marrow of his bones. Much to his relief Severus appeared to be unhurt and unbitten, looking at him with dazed eyes as if he had been spellbound. He contemplated finishing the vampire's life right there (and he would take great delight in doing so, painfully slowly with fire), but there was Severus and the Dark Lord's orders… He lifted his wand and instead studied the state Severus was in.

"Goyle, take him and do be careful," he drawled, putting on his usual mask of coldness and boredom. He tried not to think of the man before him as of his cousin. No, this man was a traitor and as such he deserved to die a traitor's death. And yet the image of young Severus materialised before his eyes - Severus hurting, hidden under his bed and clutching at a pillow, dark eyes shining wetly. The same dark eyes were now searching his, but Lucius avoided them, pretending to be looking for the portkey, which had been ready in his pocket.

§§

Although his body was hurting from wounds caused by fire, Arenwald was shivering from cold. There was nothing but pain his mind could concentrate on, whole his world consisted of pain and everything else was lost in the fog surrounding his consciousness. He moaned, attempting to move his hand, but any movement was beyond his abilities. He knew that there was someone talking to him - a bearded white figure hidden in the fog. Was he dying? "Mein Gott," he whispered, but the God-like figure shook his head, asking him something.

And there was another one… not a human, an ancient old enemy of the wolf people… "Vlkodlak," came the word to him, the word he had learned long ago in his hometown, and he shivered again. The white bearded man bent closer to him, his blue eyes penetrating the fog, followed by words, "Can you hear me?"

Another pained moan came from the vampire and the white figure frowned. "You'll be alright, we shall take care of you. Tell us, where is Severus?"

"Snape Manor," Arenwald breathed out before slipping back to unconsciousness.

§§

They apparated as close to the Snape Manor as they could, Lucius searching the coast for any Aurors, fortunately none were there. Severus was standing next to him, still like a statue, unmoving, waves of sea washing coldly over his bare feet. Long and untidy, his hair played in the breeze. There was a scent of autumn coming on the wind, foreshadowing rainy days and falling leaves. It enveloped the two men gently; Lucius shivered in cold, feeling it seeping up into his heart and hardening it, while Severus allowed himself a small smile, breathing in the familiar air. The smile made Lucius cringe at the knowledge that he would be the one to wipe it away, with his bare hands. 'Bare hands,' as the Dark Lord had requested of him. For a while he didn't move too, he was just studying Severus in the way he had used to do so many a years ago. His cousin… no, the traitor, appeared calm or surprised, he couldn't tell. Suddenly he turned to face him, one elegant eyebrow raised as he asked, "Where's the master? I feel that he's near."

"He shall arrive later," answered Lucius softly and reached out a hand to touch Severus's cheek. His cousin didn't back away from the touch, he only frowned lightly. There was no fear in his expression or suspicion; did he truly trust him that much? Only the frown… and uncertainty with it with a bit of calculation… And then a gasp as Lucius's hand tightened at his neck and threw him down into water.

He was so light, so thin a man that he pushed him down without difficulty, it was just a moment until Lucius had his face underwater, strangling him. If only he could kill him quickly, but the Dark Lord wanted him not to be quick and merciful, he wanted Severus (and obviously him too) to suffer. Therefore Lucius grabbed his struggling cousin and dragged him out of water for a few more moments.

Severus was coughing violently, angry red mark marring the whiteness of his neck. When he looked up at Lucius, he appeared to be at loss for words, but his dark eyes spoke clearly, 'Why you?'

"What does it feel like?" a cold mocking voice startled them, Severus flinched. "What does it feel like," repeated the Dark Lord, "to be dying by the hand of your beloved cousin?"

He crouched down to Snape, pulling him to himself by his wet hair. "Does it hurt, Severus?" he hissed, his thin lips curling. It amused him greatly to see Snape torn between an urge to settle into his arms due to the remnants of the binding spell and to defy him. The look in his face was pleasing him too - stunned by Lucius's doings, saddened and disappointed - his lips bluish and pale, marks red on his neck, Lucius's fingers… Voldemort laughed when seeing Malfoy's delicate, aristocratic fingers tremble.

"You could have been spared of this, dear child," spoke Voldemort again, his voice softer, the skeletal fingers caressing Snape's cheek, "Why did you have to go to Dumbledore? Was it worth it? Was it worth to have a conscience and had your past haunting you? With me, with us, you were free of such stupid things, allowed to do anything you liked. You had power. Power over life and death. You loved it. You shared our noble ideals; you still share some of them. And now…" he cupped Snape's face in his hands, "you die not a powerful man, but a man plagued by his conscience and past. A man not respected by any side. Was it worth it?"

A moment of silence was followed by Severus's silent answer, "Yes."

Lucius paled and averted his gaze, closing his eyes, Voldemort hit Snape, hit him hard so he fell to the ground. The Malfoy Lord bit his lip when he heard the Dark Lord kick Severus, break a rib or two, and Severus cry out.

"Lucius!" hissed his master sharply, "Finnish him, slowly!"

He was laying on his side, his… the traitor, his breath coming in rasps, not looking at him. For once Lucius was grateful for that, knowing what Voldemort wanted. A small tear rolled down from Severus's closed eyes; Lucius swallowed hard and kicked his cousin… the wretched traitor. He heard Voldemort laughed and Severus moan in pain, but he concentrated on shutting the both of them out. There was only the traitor, the captive, the enemy, and the member of Dumbledore's Order… He threw him back into water, drowning him and the traitor fought him, but Lucius knew he was stronger, those fluttering hands, so useless… weak… wrists too slender… and weakened by Azkaban…

One hand had clutched at his robes, but its grip was gradually growing weaker. Water splashed and bubbled around them, the hand slipped from his robes and then… Severus's struggles ceased…

Before Lucius could check his pulse, there was a loud crack as Dumbledore and Lupin apparated, both looking furious.

He pulled out his wand and rushed to help Voldemort, but then there was another crack and Moody appeared, closely followed by more and more wizards of the light side. Clearly they were outnumbered. He swore and disapparated, with his master doing the same.

§§

After they had rescued Snape from water, Moody took to reviving him. "Breathe!" he shouted, his wand pointed at Snape's still chest. "Breathe, you little snake! Don't be stupid, breathe, don't let him win!"

Remus shuddered at seeing the former Auror so furious, wondering whether his training included any healing classes and whether a healer wouldn't be more helpful there. But Dumbledore trusted Moody's skills - he was sitting at Severus's body, holding his hand and murmuring something. He must have been helping Moody… And then a shiver run through Severus, he gasped and began coughing up water weakly, but he was alive, he was breathing and Moody was laughing, "That's it, little snake, fight! We have you!"

Dumbledore laughed too, his eyes twinkling with delight and Remus couldn't help not to smile. Finally Severus was out of danger and in their care.

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Author's note: Thank you very much for reviews. I'm sorry for such a late update; I was busy finishing school, studying like a madman, oh my! But it's over and I'm sooooo happy! From now on I'll be putting review responses into my Live Journal -- follow the link in my bio (homepage), it will take you directly to the reviews (those entries won't be friends-only).