Spoilers: PS/SS, CoS, PoA, GoF, FB, QTTA.. Written between Goblet of Fire and Order of Phoenix.
Genre: Action, Angst
Era: Multiple Eras
Main Character(s): None
Ship(s): None
Summary: Siana Basilica has found the first of many answers, and Severus Snape has returned from his encounter with Voldemort. When Siana finds herself back at Hogwarts to continue looking for answers about her strange abilities, and her even stranger wand, she encounters a Snape entirely different to the one she knew before. The Death Eaters and Voldemort are hunting her, and she herself is experiencing unusual symptoms to the one thing that could possibly help her.
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

NOTES: My stuff has never been particularly fluffy. If you don't like animal torture, or any sort of torture, or references to sexual assault etc. etc. then back off.

A Fox Instead

'Why one would assume that you actually enjoyed detention, Potter. Now put your ingredients down and come here before a detention and the twenty points you've just lost for your house due to your blatant disobedience becomes detention for a week and forty points!' Snape snapped fiercely, his eyes flashing like a hawk only starting to rip apart his predator. Loathing coursed through his body as Harry Potter gathered his things and walked slowly and insolently up to Snape's desk. The Gryffindors were trying not to watch, the Slytherins were openly enjoying the almost weekly show.

Snape's eyes glittered as he watched Harry settled down at the empty desk with malicious pleasure rushing through him. It was strange, that his eyes glittered, black holes weren't supposed to reflect the light.

'Well, you are an insolent layabout aren't you?' he said quietly, his voice sparking even through the whisper. He monitored Harry closely, not only for changes in his expression, but also changes in his breathing. When Harry's chest began to rise and fall more rapidly, he knew that with enough badgering the boy would explode, and he'd have an excuse to vent the rages that simmered inside his well of hatred.

'It's strange the way you're the only teacher to say that, Professor Snape,' Harry said very softly back. Snape's lip curled to bare yellowed teeth, his eyes darkened and the flash of light left them. Now they were truly the black tunnels that frightened and forbade. How dare you show such lack of respect!

'Oh I'm probably just the only teacher who dares to say it in front of famous Potter's face.'

'And the only teacher who was a Death Eater,' Harry muttered, so quietly that Snape barely caught what he had said. His eyes flew open with shock and a hiss escaped his mouth. He could hardly believe that Harry would so boldly bring it up in front of a class which, though they couldn't have heard him, were still trying to listen in on every word. Harry's cheek had been growing with every lesson, he was slow to react to Snape's threats, and his penchant for retorting was growing.

'Congratulations. You've just spectacularly managed to get a round forty off the Gryffindor hourglass, and you can take a second detention.' And I will take much pleasure in thinking of something vile for you to do. Harry's eyes flashed but he said nothing then - because he seemed to sense when Snape was just about to lose his temper completely.

Snape was just about to push Harry further when a fist of nails seemed to close around his heart. His face blanched paler than ivory, and his hands destroyed a raven feather quill that he had been holding his hand. And then, as soon as the pain had come, it left again. And not a moment too soon. Yet, it is not as bad as usual.

He would never admit it, but his wounds were aggravating him. They had poisoned him with a substance he didn't recognise the last time he had gone - and though it wasn't fatal, it caused excruciating cramps which flashed through the body and disappeared at seemingly random moments. He also still had healing cuts and lacerations which potions would not remove instantly. He was also loathe to use a healing salve, in case something in it reacted negatively to the poison that was still leeching from his veins.

Harry Potter was quiet, his breathing had slowed down, he was obviously thinking of something else. Snape, though tempted to nudge Harry over into the abyss of anger, was preoccupied on his pain. He liked watching Harry when he was frightened, or defensively angry...he liked to see foolishly brave people with their guard down. It was a power trip and he did not deign to deny it. He was what he was, and his sneaking malevolence was not merely a fa�ade to convince the students of his malicious side. His sneaking malevolence was merely a signature of the fact that back in the days when the Sorting Hat had been placed on his head, it had only briefly mentioned Ravenclaw, before screaming Slytherin.

One did not become Head of House, on the whim of a mere fa�ade. True, he was not the sadist of his days along the side of Voldemort, but nor was he an avenging angel.

His sadistic streak hadn't actually started out as such, it had started out as a preoccupation with human emotions, and what made a human tick. Voldemort had seen Snape's propensity towards this, and trained it specifically onto pain. Severus remembered little of this training and suspected that he had been under the Imperius curse for much of it, after all, what he had previously thought were happy memories, were more like the blissful interludes of that particular Unforgivable Curse.

The first time he had murdered, he had felt like he was not in his body, and he was watching a masked stranger destroy an innocent witch. The fact that he had been watching himself as a masked stranger meant that he did not connect the fact that it had been he who had killed someone, for a month. The day he did, he had been ill for a week - and the sickness had been so delayed that Voldemort had not suspected that the hauntings of guilt and shame had been the reason for Snape's ill health.

The second time Snape had killed someone, he had remained so disconnected from the situation, that it was three months later before he woke up from a violently real nightmare, shuddering and shaking, throwing up so violently that he retched blood. He had tried to convince himself that it hadn't really been him behind the wand, because he was too unfocussed, but in that dream Snape had felt the pleasure of bloodlust, and the coldness of power, and the fear and excitement had nearly sent him insane.

Eventually Snape came to depend upon his departure from the physical body, it was almost like being under the Imperius curse again, blissful and unaware. He came to dread waking up months later, sick to his stomach and scared of what he was, torn between wanting to embrace his darkest self, and wanting to struggle up to some dim light once more. The accusing eyes of his victims and the frank appraisal of the other Death Eaters ripped him in two directions. The silent accusations (and some spoken or cried) hurt and pleasured him at the same time, and the praise fired his guilt for experiencing even glimmers of pleasure at his actions. Eventually he lashed out at those who attempted any personal contact, positive or negative. Hearing compliments hurt, hearing insults hurt, eventually...he came to realise that the pain could possibly stop if he dragged himself out of the situation.

If only he had pulled out when he had realised where he was headed. But no, it took one murder to shock him enough into struggling for the light he could not even see any longer. He renounced Voldemort to only two people at first, one whom did not believe him, and the other who had made him Potions Professor.

And if it hadn't been for that one murder, he would most likely still be a Death Eater - perhaps one of the madly devoted ones, intent on serving the Dark Lord in death as much as in life. He did not want that life, in retrospect he would have lost himself to madness, and madness did not make for intelligence or shrewd, coherent potion making skills. What are you doing? Trying to convince yourself that you're grateful she died? You've done this before...tear yourself between guilt, hatred and gratitude like you can't decide which you should really be feeling. Vengeance only tastes good when it isn't marred with guilt. A quiet voice said in his mind and Snape scowled.

Siana Basilica, young then, strange and vicious, one moment blind to her own actions, the next brutally destroying everything she could in her path. Now, she was nothing more than an uncoordinated misfit who could change herself into an extinct fox and a fruit-bat. He hated himself for letting her bewitch him, for surely that was what she had done. Seeing Voldemort had made him realise his stupidity. To think that for one moment Severus had envisaged a warmth which transcended loneliness! That for one moment Severus had felt closer to the Basilica than he had done since the death of Lydia. To think that at all! You ridiculous fool! What were you hoping for? To erase the past? Cretin. The voice in Snape's head was harsh today in its ministrations.

Class ended on a quiet and subdued note, and as Harry was just about to walk through the door Snape called; 'We still have two detentions to discuss, Potter.' His voice was cold. Ron mouthed something about 'waiting up' and Harry turned, walking slowly back to the desk once more, his green eyes shuttered. Snape fought not to sneer, not yet, he'd enjoy bringing anger out of the boy's closed eyes. He stood, fluidly, towering over the boy, and his eyes met Harry's which it seemed were not entirely closed, but burning fiercely.

'So. You find it fit to raise issues in the classroom which shouldn't even be raised within this school. Your pettiness could well be the downfall of Hogwarts, and I'm sure you'd like that, after all you seem to try very hard to be a discredit to our name,' he whispered angrily, his voice lowered because he suspected that Ron would be listening outside the door. 'You would have everyone assume the worst of me, which if got to a point where it was out of hand, Dumbledore would have to throw me out based on reputation alone. He might have a predilection towards taking in the unusual teachers, but he cannot allow them to stay when the parents start complaining.'

He paused then, Harry was looking mildly surprised, but not entirely angry.

'If I am removed from this school Potter, don't think for one second that I wouldn't go back to one particular Dark Lord, and I will personally make your life more of a living hell than it is right now. Don't give me that look Potter, you think I make your life hell now? You haven't even begun to imagine what I am capable of. Loyalty to Dumbledore keeps me here, but see me removed, and you can hold yourself responsible for everything that happens thereafter. I'm sure you'd like that, it seems to be your purpose when you so foolishly raise that sort of issue, in my class, in front of others!' He ended on a shout, his voice cutting through the harsh room. Ron won't know what I'm talking about, but Potter seems to, oh yes. Didn't realise did you?

'I won't bring it up again,' Harry said abruptly and Snape then allowed himself a smirk. 'I think an age old punishment is worthy of you Potter, perhaps you'd like to scrub the bedpans in the hospital wing without magic? Or I could even send you around the entire school, and you can clean all the lavatories that a Gryffindor has access too. I'm sure Argus will be quite willing to help you out, he's very good at shouting out orders in his dotage. Perhaps both at the same time? That would account for one detention, perhaps you should do that on a Friday night Potter, because you'll be very tired the next day, and we couldn't have you falling asleep during classes.' The gleam that had returned to his eyes was wickedly inspired at Harry's expression.

He was just about to launch into a description of Harry's second detention when a forlorn, reedy whimper came from Snape's desk. Both Harry and Snape's eyes widened abruptly. His face then shadowed and he turned slightly, his robe rippling with the silent movement. He turned back to Harry with a slightly disappointed look on his face. I'm missing out on a perfect opportunity to cut down little Potter to size, and sharpen my claws. Dumbledore might be convinced that I'm a redeemed person, but I still need my fun. Or at the very least, I still need to exercise the brutal instincts which keep me alive whilst sitting in the palm of Voldemort.

'Go,' was all Snape said, and Harry left, looking behind his shoulder curiously. Snape glared at Harry who quickly got the message, and closed the door behind him quietly. The Potions Master immediately turned and he rushed over to the desk, his face lined with intrigue, and perhaps a glimmer of concern. He opened his desk drawer, and a frightened fox immediately became an ecstatic fox, licking blindly at any part of Severus that it could.

'Svelte, we are not a common dog,' Snape hissed softly as he picked the creature up by the scruff of its neck, supporting her stomach. She had put on a little weight, though it was still scrawny, a runt of the litter. Her fur had developed a handsome terra-cotta sheen, losing it's lighter, browner fluff. Svelte was breathing quickly, eyes darting around the room. Eventually her eyes locked on the face of Severus once more and he felt himself almost burnt by the intensity of the adoration that he saw there.

'Hmph. You only appreciate me because I feed you, and you're not due to be fed for at least...ten minutes. So why would you be playing an appreciation card? What's wrong? Just felt like interrupting?' The fox kept looking at him in rapt admiration and Snape, a little flustered, placed Svelte down on the table, noting how tiny she was yet again. He held out his hand against her, avoiding her tongue, and noticed that he dwarfed her. His hand was massive compared to her small frame. You are tiny. Tiny. I'm surprised you have survived for so long.

Tentatively, hardly aware of what he was doing, his hand moved closer to the animal, and he started to scratch it on the back of the neck. Long, slow and drugging strokes. He remembered doing it to his first and last familiar, Coal. Svelte's eyes half closed and she made a soft groaning noise of appreciation, arching her neck back in a sinuous curve.

Yes, there's something very feline about a fox.

He let his skilled fingers trail underneath her ear, wondering if it would work on a fox, as it always did on his cat from so long ago. Svelte pressed her head into his hand so firmly that she almost unsettled herself and Severus nodded slowly. His hands could inflict pleasure or pain. Lydia used to beg for one of his massages, back when she had spent every day traipsing over the country side destroying the already badly proportioned muscles in her body. Perhaps that was why he was so good at touch in the first place. If it hadn't been for Lydia needing some form of relief from the pain he would never have learnt massage, or for that matter, how to make some of the most effective pain relief potions available now on the market.

'Shhh little thing, you'll need to settle again soon, shhh...' he purred, his voice deep and seductive. Svelte eased herself down into a lying position, her tail flicking back and forth erratically as he continued to scratch her. Her glowing eyes were closed, and her mouth was open in an earnest smile. Snape slowed his strokes and then drew his hand away...watching. Svelte's eyes opened a little, but she stayed still, plainly about to fall asleep. A yawn punctuated that fact.

Snape realised suddenly, when he heard the quiet snick of the door, that someone had been listening in. He got up abruptly, ignoring the bereft whine of Svelte, and stalked over to the door. He opened it silently and looked down the corridor, which Harry and Ron still occupied. Snape quietly cursed himself, he had been too preoccupied with Svelte's welfare that he hadn't even felt the presence of people watching. He listened in on the conversation that Ron and Harry seemed to be having.

'It's hard to believe that a foul monster like Snape could even look after an animal. Let alone show it affection,' Ron said, his face openly showing disgust and disbelief. Harry said nothing, it seemed he was still seething over the points that had been lost for Gryffindor, forty was a large blow. They had only been ahead for the house cup by ten points, and now they were thirty points behind. Severus watched them walk away, a cruel glint in his eye, and a strange sensation in his graceful body.

'Though...he didn't seem to say much to you at his desk Harry. I suppose that's something,' Ron added, his voice drifting down the corridor and Snape grunted in the back of his throat.

'If that's something, then I'd hate to see him next time. He's just keeps getting worse and worse. It's a wonder Dumbledore doesn't...' Harry's voice now disappeared into the cold corridors of Hogwarts and Snape found his eyes narrowing into the perfect scowl. His lips thinned and his face became strung with tension. It's a wonder Dumbledore doesn't what? Intervene? Fire me? He wouldn't dare boy, the position I play is too important for that.

He whirled around, stalking back to the desk, where the wobbly and still sleepy Svelte was now sitting on her haunches, watching him. Her eyes glittered curiously, and adoration was imprinted upon her face. Snape glared at her. She had to be kept in his desk, because she needed feeding at hourly intervals and he had no convenient excuse to go to his private quarters so regularly. The distaste of how much she was affecting his personal life suddenly came upon him, a bitter taste in the back of his throat.

His eyes burned blackly at her, hatred springing up once more, as it inevitably did at irrational times. It coiled through him like tightly taught barbed wire. He glared at Svelte, waiting for that impeccable moment when...

Snap!

He stalked over to her, a predator about to pounce, picked her up by the scruff of the neck and all but threw her back into the drawer.

An hour later the crying became too much and Snape opened his drawer with a clatter, yanked the fox out - who was ecstatic though fretful despite her owner's foul temper - and deposited her on the table unceremoniously. Her legs splayed out at wonky angles, and it took a moment for her to gather herself back together. He glared at it once more and debated whether he should just break its neck now, if he could actually be bothered marching it to Hagrid's hut.

Somewhere a voice inside of him was murmuring something to do with; 'needs to be fed', but that little voice, which also said things like; 'that's not very fair', was being squashed by the remnants of snapped barbed wire.

He was just about to pick it up and be damned with Hagrid when there was a knock at his door. He looked at it, narrowed his eyes and called: 'Who is it?'

'Malfoy,' Draco said smoothly, crisply, and there was also disgust in the tone, as though he couldn't believe he had to knock in the first place. Exactly like his father. Snape thought and the bitter taste that had stained his throat before now came back with the definite flavour of bile. Lucius...let's not dwell upon that, now. Both of them are dangerously attractive, mentally persuasive and know how to seduce one with thoughts of power.

'You have an animal?' Draco drawled as he entered the room, looking at the creature on the table. There was surprise in the tone of his voice. 'I didn't realise we needed live animals for our potions Sir.' A sadistic gleam entered his eyes. 'Though it's certainly a good idea.'

Snape smiled wickedly, darkly, whilst inside parts of him curled away in revulsion. You're too young to be so well rounded when it comes to thoughts of torture Draco. Your father evidently does not spare you the details of his twisted mind. He looked down at the fox, which was disgusting him with her desperate and pathetic attempts to get affection.

'She's a familiar,' he spat out as he eyed the creature with malice. Draco took in Snape's expression, and the pathetic fox, and he smirked.

'She's a fox. I thought it was only owls, cats, and Trevor that were allowed in this school,' he said and Snape pushed the fox away from him.

'That's a student restriction. It was growing on me. Now I find that she's too needy. She'll need training,' he said as he watched the fox look at him uncertainly, and then start walking towards him again on unsteady legs. She was very hungry, and had now not been fed now for a long time considering her not quite stable condition. Snape was effectively redirecting his guilt into his infamous well of hatred, and Svelte was experiencing the brunt of it.

'You know what Draco? How would you like to play with her for a little while,' he spat softly and Draco's eyes lit up. His hands twitched at his sides, as he made to involuntarily reach for her. Snape however held up his hand.

'I'll come collect her, take her up to your dormitory. You have lunch, it will give you and your friends something to do. Just don't...' He paused. 'Don't play too violently now. There are some things even I can't justify to a Headmaster,' he said and watched as Draco reached towards the fox eagerly, a cruelty about the tension in his hands. He clutched at Svelte, which licked the boys hands blindly. Draco made a face of revulsion and his hands clenched, hard. The fox whimpered.

'Excellent. I'll leave her in the dormitory after lunch,' he said, and walked away.

Lunch was passing without mishap. Severus dined at the Great Hall, where he told Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall of the points that had been taken off Gryffindor, and the two detentions that Harry had earnt himself. He then proceeded to tell Albus Dumbledore in an undertone, the reason for these two detentions. Dumbledore looked grim.

'That will not do. Two detentions is severe, Severus, as you are well aware, but you are correct in your assumptions. I do not think Harry realised what a fine line we walk.'

'Well if he didn't understand before, he certainly should grasp it now. He's not a complete idiot,' Snape said darkly, pushing his plate away. He wasn't hungry this particular lunchtime, his eyes kept drifting over to the Slytherin table, where Draco, Goyle and Crabbe were absent. Dumbledore had clearly been following Snape's gaze because he then inquired:

'Where are Draco and his two friends?'

'Draco received a package from his father and wanted to share the contents privately. He does it a fair bit. I checked the package...there is nothing illegal in there,' he added quietly. His stomach turned slightly...was I foolish to leave Svelte in their hands? I don't want her dead, just disciplined a little, something I do not have the time to do. Maybe I should leave now and check on her. No. Lunch is almost over, and I'll go up when the dormitory is deserted.

'How is Svelte faring?' Dumbledore then asked and Snape's teeth grit involuntarily, his discomfort grew.

'She's sleeping, getting very vocal actually,' he said shortly and Dumbledore nodded, a small smile on his face.

'Well she's a very young animal. She needs almost constant attention. Are you sure you wouldn't prefer her to keep company with Hagrid?'

Snape thought about that and found that he didn't. Despite that fact that Svelte was irking him, he suddenly didn't want her out of his care, his mind was changing quickly, lightning bolts across two different directions.

'Quite sure.'

'Perhaps you'd like to go and check on her?' Dumbledore said very softly, a hint of steel in his voice. Snape's eyes widened then, involuntarily. He expected to be baited by Voldemort, but not by Dumbledore, and he certainly failed to perceive how Dumbledore could possibly be insinuating what he seemed to be insinuating. Snape swallowed quickly and hazarded a look at the Headmaster.

The piercing blue was extraordinarily disconcerting.

'After all, lunch will finish in a few minutes or so anyway, and you don't seem to be hungry. It's usually something quite serious that puts you off your lunch...you seem worried,' Dumbledore added. Though his voice was light and cheerful, there was something in his voice which was dangerously insistent. Snape's heart was speeding up, the guilt that had been flaming inside of him guttered, then flared as a gust of fear and self hatred blew over it. Goosebumps ran along his arm underneath his robes and for a second, Snape wondered if he should just get up now, retreat as gracefully as possible. Dumbledore had a silent power, silent, but frightening.

'I recommend you go now Severus,' Dumbledore said, arching a bushy eyebrow.

Snape stood swiftly and pushed in his chair, then swept out of the Great Hall without a second thought to the opinions of the other teachers or students. He knows, he knows and he hasn't fired me. He hasn't fired me. Shock was racing through him as he avoided two ghosts floating towards him - lost in their own world - and continued to navigate down to the dungeons.

As he moved down to the dungeons, lunch ended, and a few minutes later he heard the unmistakable laugh of Draco Malfoy, and then the delayed stupid laughter of Crabbe and Goyle. As Draco rounded the corner, Snape noticed that his pale cheeks were flushed, his blue eyes were sparkling, and there were red flecks on his hands. The Potions Master inwardly cringed, ignoring anything that vaguely resembled an emotion other than anger, such as fear, which was threatening to rise within him. Draco had noticed the Professor and grinned.

'Professor, you're down from lunch early. I take it you've come to do some cleaning up.' He smirked and Snape remained impassive. Give nothing away, like you just did to the Headmaster. Fool.

'Draco, I recommend you thoroughly wash your hands before your next class,' Severus said, his tone clipped and short. Draco looked at his hands and his grin widened sickeningly. He shrugged and for a moment Severus wouldn't have been surprised if Draco had raised his hands up to his lips and licked the blood off, but perhaps that was his own sick and twisted mind, because Draco just started rubbing it off with the other hand.

'Thanks for the er, advice, Professor,' he said, his eyes gleaming as he caught the Professor's black gaze. 'Well, I really must get to class, can't have McGonagall taking points off me now, can we?' He snickered, and walked past Snape without a second glance.

Snape started to walk again. Soon he had entered the Slytherin house, mysterious and eerie, and he was making his way up to the boys dormitory. He was just walking down some more stairs when he felt a twinge start at his lower back.

He had a few seconds to register horror, when the pain flared suddenly, violently, without warning. He choked, was choking on his own saliva, and reeling backwards. His hands scraped at the walls heavily, hard enough to scrape skin off, his eyes rolled backwards and his heart seemed to stop. The pain was strong enough to cause every muscle in his body to completely wrench, and then flow into a brutal but brief seizure during which Snape could not even marshal the thought to wish for death.

When he'd recovered, not more than ten seconds later, he was sagging against the wall, his hands aching as though to remind him of the pain he had just experienced. His heart was thumping madly in his chest, and his eyes were dull with disorientation. For a moment he thought he was in an oubliette or perhaps one of Voldemort's special rooms, but after a few moments he was able to focus on one of the torches flickering in its bracket.

Hogwarts. Nothing but a twinge of potion. Nothing at all.

He took several deep breaths, wondering if he'd just damn all his potion training and try and counter the ingredients of the potion that still coursed through his body, with a healing potion. Yet he knew in the back of his mind that he wasn't a moron, and that it was simply too dangerous. Most of the potions that Voldemort administered, that caused pain, were designed to either worsen or become fatal when a healing antidote was given. It was sadistic, and Snape took no pleasure in the fact that he had pioneered those potions. However Snape did not know the identity of this particular one, whatever it was, the pain was disturbing.

Svelte.

He shuddered and his thoughts quickly returned back to what he was doing. He straightened and walked the rest of the way to where the sixth year boys resided. He walked in without a second thought. His steps slid to a halt as he took in the scene before him.

A knife and a pen lay next to a huddled ball of fur that was neither pale brown, or terracotta, but rather a cracked brow colour, tinted with globs and rivulets of bright red, the same colour also staining the quilt, knife and quill. Severus felt his hand start to tremble violently as in the place of the sick pleasure he had hoped not to feel (but thought he might), came a suffocating shame...a shame that grew with every inhale which bought the scent of dried blood to his hooked nose.

'Svelte?' Snape said, his voice weak, thought not tremulous like the rest of his body. He was surprised to see the ears of the feminine creature turn towards him slowly. She whimpered, one of her back legs twitched as she turned her head in a movement that suggested a large amount of pain. There were deep scores running horizontally along one side her ribcage, which still leaked fresh blood. That was the only damage he could make out amongst the mess.

He gulped briefly before adeptly waving his wand and eliminating the blood around the fox. Then he walked to Svelte slowly, who automatically starting crying forlornly; clearly frightened of him, yet unable to move away fast enough. The sight spurned Snape's guilt into white hot hateful flames that coursed through his torso, corrosive and painful, a brief reminder of the spasms that had recently been assailing him.

His hands did not recoil as he scooped up the now terrified creature, so frightened her breathing was dangerously fast, so tortured that her muscles rippled involuntarily along her frame. She did not have the strength left to fight and Severus knew that she was dying, she would die if she didn't receive immediate care.

'Shhh...' he found himself saying. 'I'm not going to hurt you.' He hated himself for saying those words, because he had been the cause of the situation that she was currently in. However the fox had calmed as he had spoke, and her whimpering became less urgent. That or she's just slipping further into shock, Severus, deeper into that deathly abyss. Inwardly he winced and instead occupied his mind with examining her as he walked quickly to his own private chambers.

There were three deep cuts on either side, which had been the cause of most of the blood. There were also lacerations on her shoulder blades, head and neck, and what looked to be a stab wound on the back of her right flank. Instinctively his hands started searching for pressure points - usually located near pulse points - and deftly started pushing them.

Encouraged by the slowing of her heart and the less frequent urgings of her whimperings he continued, kicking open his door after absently muttering a password. He kicked the door shut again, muttered another password which activated a silencing charm, and headed over to a black, wrought iron and wooden cabinet. From it, he took a green towel.

He placed the towel onto the bed, and her onto it. Then he went to another cabinet and fetched salve, two potions, and a flask of water. He didn't even have to look at where his hands were going, so familiar was he with what he needed, and where it was kept. Keep your surroundings as organised as you would like your mind to be. Clutter makes for untidy thoughts, and untidy thoughts lead to falling over one's own mistakes.

He did several things at once then. With a wave of his wand he cleared the dried blood off her fur, it was a difficult charm which required energy - but Snape did not dare waste time cleaning encrusted blood when he could be looking at and treating wounds. While saying the charm he managed to unstopper both of the bottles, and open the salve, then, as he sat down beside the cowering, frightened and no longer ecstatic little fox, he found himself breaking into a verbal stream of thought - something he never did, because he found speaking when it wasn't necessary, pointless - whilst a part of him prayed that she wasn't broken.

'Svelte, Svelte come back to me little fox.' He purred as he stroked salve onto the worst of her wounds, noting the way they immediately stopped bleeding with some satisfaction. The fox was snuffling a little, evidently holding in the pain, trying to seem stronger and more pain-resistant than she was. Draco would have pushed you, he doesn't like resistance little fox. Then again, you probably gave him what he wanted. 'Svelte, it was necessary, you need to learn what it is like to be in the Slytherin house...and you can be comforted in the fact that it need never happen a...'

He trailed off. Draco needed only to ask for the fox, and Snape would be required to give it to him. He'll suspect something if I refuse...unless...He doesn't need to think she's alive, I doubt he'd be surprised if she'd died, or if he thought she'd died. I could hide her in my quarters easily enough, feeding would be a difficulty, but at least...oh dear.

Svelte was starting to whimper again, clearly frightened by the shadow of Snape's hand. He grimaced and pain lanced through him, pain that was completely unconnected to the potion that he had been given. Pain that was something akin to sympathy, hatred, the feeling of his heart twisting in his chest. Pain that he couldn't seem to ignore, sitting on his bed, trying to heal Svelte's wounds as best as he was able. Pain that he didn't dare ignore, not after Dumbledore's warning, not after his own sick feelings of fear.

'Shhh...shhh...Svelte. Back to me. Listen to the sound of my voice, there we go. I'm not going to hurt you. I don't suppose you have any cause to believe me, because I have introduced you to the fine workings of betrayal now. I know no other way, you see, betrayal is my partner as much as loneliness, as much as the darkness of the dungeons and the scents of the simmering concoctions I create. It would have been better if you had never hidden in my sanctuary, for then I would not have found you, and introduced you to my pathetic world.'

Where were these words coming from? He blinked and shook his head slightly. Well what of them? Challenged a little voice in his head. It's true isn't it? You hate yourself, you are pathetic, lonely, obsessed, deranged. You're a monster Severus, with a world of troubles at your hands and behind them. Look at what you've become, a monster so twisted that you would thrill at the torture of a na�ve, baby fox.

What would Lydia say?

Snape blinked in shock. What, indeed, would she say? Would she even speak? She would just stare, accusingly, heart broken. She could never comprehend cruelty, especially when practised on innocent animals. She would crumple, heartbroken, and I...I could never hope to reconcile with her. She would hate me. Hate me.

His mind blanked and a deep pulling feeling started in his gut and moved out and up his body, settling in his heart, his hands, his shoulders. He was shaking, violently shaking, his breathing was shuddering in his chest.

Suddenly, before he knew what was happening, words were spilling out of his mouth, seeming to come not from that normal, sneering voice, but some other place. The words poured over each other, shaking, uncertain, frightened and frightening because of their unlikeliness and their intensity.

'Svelte...I'm sorry...so unbelievably, it will never happen again. Svelte, listen to me. I'm sorry. I'm...please, please forgive me.'

Somehow Svelte seemed to sense her owner's distress, and slowly, stiffly, her head turned. She regarded him with glowing eyes and as Severus watched breathlessly, she pushed her muzzle into his palm and rested her head there, lazily swiping her tongue across the soft and now clammy skin. A few moments later she sank into an exhausted sleep, and Severus sank into an exhausted stupor, bent on taking as long as it took, to heal the wounds that had been left by the previous hours of the day.