Ashes
Severus Snape's robes billowed behind him as he strode quickly through the halls of Malfoy Manor. He had been summoned to give the Dark Lord an update as the headmaster of Hogwarts. He passed by the open doors of a large reception room that reeked of sex and death. "Oi, Snape! Fancy a go? We got some nice specimens today," one of the unkempt imbeciles called from within.
Severus didn't break his stride. His Lord had summoned, and he had no desire to keep him waiting. Also, he had no interest in the "fun" his brethren were having inside. He sneered at their childish lust for blood and sex. He had more refined tastes than them. He had more self-control. He ignored the screams, sobs and shrieks from that evening's "specimens". No one not wearing a Dark Mark would leave that room alive. They would likely not even survive the next hour. He silently wished them all a swift death that they would likely not receive.
The Dark Lord was more interested than usual in the goings on at Hogwarts. Apparently the Carrows had been complaining again. It wasn't his fault that the unskilled duo had no talent for keeping children in line. He deftly let his feelings on the matter be known without being so gouache as to straight out say it. He was a Slithyrn after all. Then again, so were the Carrows. After much discussion, the Dark Lord, satisfied with his findings, released Severus for the evening.
Unfortunately, his route took him once again past that same reception room. While the party still seemed to be raging, not much could be heard of the hapless "specimens" any longer. He attempted to swiftly move past, but was stopped by an obviously inebriated Rodolphus Lestrange. He managed to block Snape's path and quickly put an arm around him to halt his progress. "Old friend, indulge me by sharing a drink. You've missed all the fun. I'm afraid most of our party favors died on us, but I'm sure I could find something for you," he slurred.
Severus tried to extract himself from the other man's grip, but the older man was strangely strong given his state. "Baby brother rounded up some fine young muggles. Plus, our Scabior found us some nice mudbloods to play with. Come." He pulled Severus through the door.
He sighed feeling a headache come on, "One drink, then I must return. I still have much to do tonight."
"Of course, of course! I wouldn't want to distract the headmaster from his duties for too long." Inside he saw only a few victims left that hadn't been given the reprieve of death yet. Although, it didn't look like they had long to wait. He surmised that they would be joining the pile of bodies on the other side of the room shortly. It appeared as if the Death Eaters had quite the raucous evening. The pile of discarded gore made up of countless nude bodies, had leaked an ever-expanding pool of blood, cum and other various bodily fluids. He looked away; he'd seen the like many times. The waste of young life left a small ache in what was left of his heart. He didn't want to think that one of his students may lie within the mound.
He was handed a generous glass of fire whiskey as he mingled amongst his fellow Death Eaters. One did have to keep up appearances. One by one the remaining victims, no children, had the life tortured and fucked out of them. Each were haphazardly tossed onto the pile for disposal, nameless and forever lost.
It was as the last body was thrown on the pile that he noticed something at the edge of the encroaching pool. A wand. His first thought was that one of these idiots had managed to misplace theirs during their frenzy, but then he noticed it. The delicately carved vines that wound their way up the wand. His heart clinched. Perhaps she lost it. Things get misplaced, lost, all the time especially when one was on the run. She couldn't have been captured; he'd have heard of it. Everyone would have. She couldn't possibly be lying within that pile along with the other nude and broken souls. It just wasn't possible.
Severus steadied himself. No need to panic. He had a cover to maintain, and a discarded wand wasn't proof of…of anything really. When you really thought about it. He took another drink of his fire whiskey for fortitude and pretended to listen to some long-winded story of past glory that was currently being shared. He glanced over the pile again, just to check, just to make sure. It was a mess of frozen faces, broken limbs and twisted torsos. He estimated maybe 30 or 40 young men and women lay there. He saw nothing that stood out, nothing unique. Then his eye locked on a tuft of hair, brown and overly curly. It emerged from the mass of flesh about halfway down. No part of the owner was visible, only the hair.
His occlumency shields were cracking. He had to get out of that room. The reeking stench suddenly felt suffocating. "That's the last one!" Rabastan announced triumphantly and his brethren cheered. "Shall we call the house elves to clear the garbage?" he asked.
"No need", answered Rodophus as he lazily sent a stream of fiendfyre to consume the dead. Severus acted quickly, one severing charm and two accios later, and he had both the wand and hair stowed safely within his cloak.
He watched the fire burn everything to ash, including the surrounding pool. "Let me take care of the waste," Severus offered and gathered the remaining ashes with a flick of his wand. "They could prove useful and if all else fails, perhaps Sprout can use them in her greenhouses," he said with a smirk. That caused a hearty laugh amongst the group.
He turned to Rodolphus, "thank you for the refreshment, but I really must retire. I still have much to do tonight."
"Yes, yes," he responded distractedly. Apparently, he too was no longer interested in staying now that the entertainment was over.
Severus swallowed the last of his fire whiskey and quickly departed. Indeed, he had much to do tonight.
Snape's pace slowed as he reached the gates of Hogwarts. A gripping weariness seemed to take hold, weighing down his steps. It took immense effort to keep his thoughts from wandering back to the collected items in his cloak. He needed to keep his wits about him as he made it across the castle grounds through its doors. There were eyes and ears everywhere, representing both sides and all willing to bring him down if the opportunity arose.
He made it all the way to his chambers before his occlumency shields shattered. A wave of anxiety and dread caused him to stumble. He removed the hair and wand from his cloak and set them gently on his writing desk. He summoned a large vase and carefully transferred the ashes into it. He transfigured a lid for the vase and secured it with a sticking charm. He set his makeshift urn besides the other items.
He looked over the small collection as he contemplated his next move. There were tests he could perform on the hair to ascertain its owner. So much could be read from hair, if one were skilled enough to manage it. Severus was certainly skillful enough, but nowhere ready to know the truth. A moment later, he made his decision. He needed another drink, perhaps a few of them. This was not something he was ready to face sober.
He sat in his favorite chair watching the fire dance in the fireplace, a glass held loosely in his hand. He was on his whatever-ith drink. He'd lost count at some point, but knew that a house elf had fetched him a new bottle of fire whiskey at some point. The liquid dulled his senses but did little to that ball of dread in his heart. He glanced back at the little desk and the morbid little collection atop it. He was in no state to examine the hair in detail at the moment, but he could no longer put off determining to whom it belonged.
Snape heaved his body from the chair and ambled over to the desk. He lifted his wand and paused. She was still alive now, to his knowledge anyway. In a moment that assurance may be gone. He waited again, for just a few moments. He wanted to savor the world as it was now. A world where she was still in it. A world where he would hear her laugh again, see her smile, have her loyal support. A world that was better and brighter just by having her in it.
Severus swished his wand over the hair, and that world dissolved into nothingness. A choking sob erupted from his body. His legs, suddenly useless, gave out on him, and he sank gracelessly to the floor. A horrible yet familiar pain ripped through him and threatened to consume his very being. It would not, could not be contained and soon sobs turned to wails. Anger danced with grief as he raged against the unfairness of it all. Hermione Granger was dead.