Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all his friends (and enemies) are the brain-child of J.K. Rowling. I'm just borrowing them. Exclusive ownership belongs to JKR, Arthur A. Levine Books and Scholastic Inc. Jane Sinclair and all additional characters belong to me. You belong to yourself.
Down once more
to the dungeon
of my black despair!
Down we plunge
to the prison
of my mind!
Down Once More…/Track Down This Murderer… (Act Two, Scene 8)
from the musical The Phantom of the Opera by Andrew Lloyd Webber
Chapter Nine – Dreams
...where Jane and Severus have some disconcerting dreams…
--- Severus ---
Severus and Draco Malfoy were standing before the Dark Lord. The boy was trembling fearfully, as Voldemort studied them silently for an unbearably long time.
"So, Dumbledore's dead," he finally addressed them.
Severus inclined his head. "Yes, my lord."
"And, yet, Harry Potter is still alive."
"My lord, you asked that the boy not be touched…"
"I did, yes." Lord Voldemort nodded impatiently. "I must know that prophesy… But never mind now. You!" He pointed at Draco. "You have failed in your mission."
The boy's eyes widened in horror, as the meaning of the Dark Lord's words struck him. Without warning, Voldemort pointed his wand at Draco who instantly fell to the ground, dead. Severus' mouth twitched slightly, his composure slipping momentarily.
In his cell, deep in the bowels of Azkaban, Severus tossed and turned fitfully on his hard narrow cot, unable to escape the images that tormented his mind.
"Severus," his master said, stepping over the dead boy without sparing him a second glance, "have you been able to discover Dumbledore's secret weapon?"
Severus shook his head. "Unfortunately, no, my lord. In fact, I believe there is no such weapon. I know, however, that Dumbledore was looking for a person."
"Not a weapon, but a person? Not Harry Potter?" Voldemort sounded both surprised and intrigued.
"Not Harry Potter," Severus confirmed.
Voldemort stroked his chin, deep in thought. "What about the Order? Do those bumbling idiots know anything?"
"They were charged with looking for a woman. A Jane Sinclair. I, myself, have never heard of her."
The Dark Lord closed his eyes for a moment, thinking back. "Neither have I," he eventually admitted. "But if Dumbledore had the entire Order looking for this woman, she must be important… Severus, you must bring her to me as soon as she is found. You must bring me Jane Sinclair!"
Still fast asleep, Severus flopped onto his side, cursing under his breath.
--- Jane ---
Jane was looking for Severus. She stood in front of a forbidding ancient manor house in the middle of nowhere. The nearest village was miles away, and apart from several baleful ravens cawing from the rooftop, she could make out no other sign of life. She skimmed through the note he had sent her, asking her to meet him. Yes, this definitely was the place. Unsure what to do, Jane peeked through a window, but couldn't make out anything inside. She straightened her shoulders and raised her hand to the brass doorknocker. However, before she could rap it against the weathered wood, the door swung open with an eerie creak. She peered into the uninviting dark entry hall.
"Severus?"
"In here," a muffled voice invited her inside.
She took a hesitant step across the threshold and frowned as she took in the depressing interior. Like Fenton Hall, this place had a positively uninhabited ambience. The house was sparsely furnished and a thick layer of dust rested on the few tables and armoires that weren't covered with sheets. No knickknacks or personal touches of any kind softened the Spartan décor.
"Severus?" she asked again, when the door slammed shut behind her.
"Upstairs…" The same muffled voice sounded from the upper landing.
An uneasy feeling came over her. Jane could feel her insides twist into a knot. Her initial thought that Severus might have invited her for a secret tryst was rapidly dissipating. She placed her hand onto the hand-carved wooden banister and took the first step. As she slowly ascended the staircase, a movement in one of the portraits lining the mahogany wainscoting caught her attention. She blinked twice, not trusting her eyes, yet the image remained. Jane could see Chris Isaak following her from painting to painting, all the while singing to her:
What a wicked game you play
To make me feel this way
What a wicked thing to do
To let me dream of you
What a wicked thing to say
You never felt this way
What a wicked thing to do
To make me dream of you…
Jane awoke, the whiny song still ringing in her ears, and groaned. It had been two months now since she'd visited Severus in Azkaban, and he still haunted her dreams. Each time the dreams had been different, though. At times, he would apologize for the way he had hurt her in Azkaban. Then there were nights, when she dreamt of him rejecting her in every conceivable humiliating way. Frequently, she also dreamt of their encounter on Christmas Eve, and the memory of the kisses they'd shared always left her wanting for more.
She pounded her pillow into shape and tucked it under her head. Try as she might, she was unable to expel him from her mind. Jane gave a frustrated sigh. She didn't want to go back to sleep, afraid of what would await her there. He would be there, no doubt. Waiting for her. Teasing her, taunting her. Damn him.
Gradually, her breathing slowed and her eyes fluttered shut once more.
A tall sinister-looking man surveyed her unabashedly. He was clothed in flowing black robes, and an evil red glint sparkled in his dark eyes. He exuded power and an aura of malevolence surrounded him like the garments he was wearing.
"This is her?" His question was directed to someone standing behind her. He did not sound very impressed.
Jane turned around. Severus stood a few steps away from her, looking as dispassionate and untouchable as ever. He nodded curtly.
"Yes, my lord."
My lord, she wondered. The Dark Lord? What the hell was going on? "Severus?"
He did not meet her eyes.
"This," the evil-looking man asked again, "is Dumbledore's secret weapon? Her?"
Severus nodded again.
"How…" the man deliberated for a moment, "…interesting."
She swirled around to face him. "Who are you?"
Her question obviously amused him. He indicated a bow and introduced himself. "I, my dear, am Lord Voldemort."
Deeply asleep in her bed at Hogwarts, Jane whimpered, unable to escape her nightmare. A few hundred miles away, another dreamer joined her.
--- Severus ---
"This is her?" The Dark Lord sounded somewhat disappointed.
Jane was standing between the two of them. Voldemort looked over her shoulder straight at Severus, who stood a few steps away from her. She turned around, and her eyes widened in recognition. He nodded curtly at the Dark Lord, ignoring her inquiring gaze.
"Yes, my lord."
Confusion registered on her face. "Severus?"
He did not acknowledge her. It was imperative that he ignored her. Voldemort could never know of their… liaison. However, it was more difficult to ignore her than he'd imagined. Her mere presence was extremely distracting, and he had to muster all of his self-control to cloud his mind against Voldemort's inquisitive stare.
"This," the Dark Lord inquired once more, "is Dumbledore's secret weapon? Her?"
Severus nodded again.
"How…" Voldemort deliberated for a moment, "…interesting."
Jane swirled around to face the Dark Lord. "Who are you?"
Her question obviously amused him. He indicated a bow and introduced himself. "I, my dear, am Lord Voldemort."
For a moment, Severus thought she would faint. He watched her eyes grow wide and the blood drain from her face. She took an involuntary step towards Severus. He wanted desperately to reach out and pull her behind him, to shield her against all evil – personified, in this case, by the Dark Lord. He knew Voldemort had plans for her, although he didn't know what they entailed. From previous experience, though, he knew they would be very unpleasant. He feverishly thought of a way out.
A sound caught his attention, distracting him.
What a wicked game you play
To make me feel this way
What a wicked thing to do
To let me dream of you
What a wicked thing to say
You never felt this way
What a wicked thing to do
To make me dream of you…
Severus couldn't make out the origin of the annoying song. He could have sworn, though, that it came from one of the paintings in the hallway. The whiny voice drilled painfully into his brain until he thought he could bear it no longer.
Hundreds of miles apart, the two dreamers tossed uneasily in their sleep, and the dream sequence shifted.
--- Jane and Severus ---
Voldemort stood over Jane, his wand pointing at her face. She was lying at his feet, unarmed. The Dark Lord was gloating.
"I admire your determination, Miss Sinclair…" He grinned maliciously. "…and your fearlessness. Not many have dared to face me as you did. Unfortunately for you, none survived…"
Jane met his gaze mutinously.
"Such spirit." He chuckled. "Are you sure you don't want to join me and my Death Eaters?"
"Quite sure," she answered dryly.
"Pity." He shrugged indifferently. "Ah well…"
He lazily pointed his wand at her.
"NO!" Severus rushed towards them, stepping between Jane and the Dark Lord, shielding her with his body.
"Severus," Voldemort greeted him calmly.
"Let her go. You no longer need her. I know why Dumbledore chose her. I know her secret. It is me you want."
The Dark Lord's lips pulled into an amused smile. "There are much worthier causes to die for, Severus. But, honestly – a woman?"
Severus merely shrugged. "We cannot choose our destiny."
"Destiny…" Voldemort slowly shook his head, something akin to regret in his face. "You have served me well, Severus, even if you did play both sides. I never would have thought that, in the end, you would be brought down by a woman… You always were too smooth, too composed. You never let your emotions determine your actions… Ah well, no matter now."
He quickly waved his wand at Severus, who was unable to counter the spell. He fell to the ground and moved no more.
"SEVERUS!"
Jane jolted upright, his name on her lips. She could still feel Voldemort's malevolent eyes raking over her, seizing her up, trying to glean her most hidden thoughts, her darkest secrets. A shudder went through her and her stomach revolted. She stumbled out of bed and made a mad dash for the bathroom, where she collapsed over the toilet.
Long after the retching had ceased and her breathing returned to normal, Jane remained slumped on the cold floor tiles, her forehead resting against the cool marble wall. She did not go back to sleep that night.
---
Miles away in Azkaban, Severus' eyes flew open, her anguished cry still ringing in his ears. A nightmare, he told himself, ignoring his pounding heart. Just a nightmare. Nothing more. And yet…
He rolled onto his back and stared blindly at the ceiling. He had dreamt of Jane every night since that fateful Christmas Eve. Her kisses had been a revelation to him, and he'd called himself every kind of fool for sending her away when he did. His newly found sense of chivalry had prevented him from taking what she had offered him freely. He had wished to confide in her, to make her understand. Severus wiped a hand over his tired face. He had never expected her to visit him in Azkaban. He recalled the pain in her eyes when he'd cruelly rejected her. He knew the pain had been his doing, his alone. He also knew that he'd had no choice.
In the bleak darkness surrounding him, the thought of Jane's sweet face was like a beacon of hope. The memories of holding her in his arms – the taste and feel of her – would keep him sane in the years to come, would make this nightmare bearable. As long as he was locked away, she was safe. The thought was comforting. It was a small price to pay.
Lost and Found © 2005-2006 by MMHG
