An order. Severus was no stranger to the word but in that moment it left a bitter taste in his mouth. However, he knew better than to argue further.
"Of course," he said simply, taking care to hide the annoyance that had crept its way into his thoughts.
Withdrawing his wand, Severus waved it overhead and then brought it down to his feet in a smooth sweep. A warm rush of air followed his movements effectively drying his robes in an instant. The dry clothes gave him little comfort as he looked down at the boy cowering on the floor. How many times had he dreamed of this moment? Potter, helpless before him. Revenge for the hell his father had put him through. Now, however, he wasn't even sure he could do it. Closing his eyes, he shook the doubt from his brain and leveled his wand.
"I was thinking," The Dark Lord interrupted, a cruel smile drawing across his pale face. "Something a little more…creative."
Severus felt his fingers tighten around the cool handle of his wand and he turned his head slightly to hide the hard line his lips had formed. He should have realized it would not have been that easy; nothing was every easy here. Forcing himself to relax, he turned a questioning look to his master.
"What exactly did you have in mind, my Lord," he asked.
"I am sure you will think of something," replied Voldemort indifferently.
Licking his dry lips, Severus nodded and turned back around. His mind began to race with possible alternatives; everything from the disturbing to altogether gruesome filled his brain but what was he actually capable of? What would satisfy the Dark Lord's request and not permanently damage the boy?
"Stand up, Potter," he ordered.
The boy hesitated for only a fraction of a second before slowly rising to his feet. Head still bowed, he waited for his punishment, hands clenching and unclenching nervously at his sides.
"Turn and put your hands on the table, " Severus continued, his words steady but he could already feel his stomach tightening as if an invisible hand were gripping it firmly.
The boy's head jerked up and his wide eyes met Severus's, fear dancing behind those green irises. Snape averted his own eyes to the table as if to indicate where he meant. In reality, he couldn't bear to watch as the tears welled up.
"P-please," Potter stammered quietly but there was no hope in that word. He was well aware that no amount of pleading would save him from what was about to come.
"I said," Severus snapped as he shoved the boy towards the dinning room table. "Hands on the table."
Potter sprawled forwards and he pressed his palms flat against the gleaming wood to stop himself from landing on his face. He was shaking now but he managed to straighten himself, bending slightly at the waist to keep his hands on the table as ordered.
Heart hammering wildly in his chest, Severus gave his wand a flick. From the end a long cord emerged, thick enough to hold its shape but still pliable. He gave it slight wave to test its weight and then raised it above his head like a conductor readying his musicians. He hesitated. The Dark Lord was wanting a show and if he didn't play his part to the tee this charade would merely continue. This was just another test in loyalty and if he failed here…
"Shirt off, Potter," he hissed and for extra measure he quirked his mouth into an amused sneer.
There was a shake of the head and a soft whisper as the boy shifted from one foot to the other.
"Now," Severus yelled.
Slowly, Potter reached a hand up and drew the dirty fabric over his head. Every bone in his back was visible through the heavily scared skin. If he wanted to, Severus was sure he could easily count each one. The boy shivered as the cool manor air washed over his skin, leaving a trail of gooseflesh in its wake.
"There's a good lad," he jeered despite the sick rising in the back of his throat. "Now, I want you to count each lash out loud. Do you understand?"
When Potter refused to answer, Snape gave the whip a sharp swing. The boy jumped as the leather sent a loud crack through the silent room.
"Already jumping and I haven't even hit you yet," Severus mocked. "Do you understand?"
"Y-yes," Potter answered.
Taking a deep breath, Severus pushed away the small voice in the back of his mind and swung the whip with a quick flick of his wrist. The leather struck the boy along the spine and his muscles immediately tightened.
"One," he growled out, apparently determined not to show his pain.
The next strike crisscrossed the welt that was already rising from the former, but the boy remained strong.
"Two," he said softly.
The third strike was enough to knock him forward a fraction. His fingernails dug into the table and his arms began to quiver.
"Three," he grunted through gritted teeth.
Severus could hear the strain in his voice but knew it wouldn't be enough. He could feel the Dark Lord's eyes watch him as he raised the whip again. He brought it down with more force and was rewarded with a single gasp as the skin split beneath it.
"F-f-four," the boy counted and Severus could hear the lump rising in his throat, holding back the wave of sobs that was threatening to spill out.
POP! The boy pressed his face against the table as the dam broke. He tried to sob quietly, his shoulders shaking with the effort, but there was no hiding the pain in his voice.
"F-five. Please, I-I…"
Severus had swung again. The end of the whip came back coated in a dark crimson. The scream reverberated around the empty room as Potter, caught unaware, had no way to stifle it. He felt his vision sway but, taking another deep breath, he forced himself to continue.
"Now we're getting somewhere. What number is that, Potter," he asked with a sick amusement that he didn't know he was capable of.
"P-p-please. I c-can't…"
"The number," Snape asked again.
"S-s-six."
Four more lashes and Potter was on his knees begging for forgiveness. With a wave, his wand returned to normal and Severus turned to face the Dark Lord who was grinning broadly. The man gave an approving nod and then motioned for Severus to follow.
"Clean this up, boy and then return to the cellar," he ordered over his shoulder as he swept from the room.
Severus allowed the smile to slip from his face as he followed Voldemort from the dinning hall. He didn't dare look back over his shoulder as he left, too afraid of what might happen if he saw the damage he had caused. Instead, he focused on the man leading him towards the opposite side of the manor.
They entered the study and with a wave Voldemort drew the curtains around the room, casting a cool darkness around them. The door behind Severus closed with a sharp snap and he glanced at it before continuing. He came to a stop behind the beautifully crafted couch in the middle of the sitting area and crossed his arms respectively behind his back.
"You have proven yourself loyal as ever, Severus," The Dark Lord praised as he strolled over to a round table beside the bookshelves. A plethora of oddly shaped decanters filled a silver tray there and he carefully plucked an elegant one filled with a deep red liquid. Pouring two crystal goblets full, he returned to the sitting area and offered one with a cool grin.
"My loyalties have always been with you, my lord," Severus assured him as he took the goblet with a nod of thanks.
"I will admit, " Voldemort continued as if Severus had not spoken. "I had my doubts. You have avoided torturing the boy on numerous occasions. I thought you might hold a soft spot given his lineage."
Taking a small sip of the sweet wine, Severus quirked his mouth into a lopsided grin. So it had been a test.
"No, my lord, " he said. "I merely did not trust myself to know when to stop. After all, I have held a certain…distaste for the boy since he arrived at Hogwarts."
Voldemort's grin broadened and he nodded his understanding. Taking a sip of his own goblet, the man took a seat in one of the wingback chairs and motioned for Severus to join him.
"There is something I would like to discuss with you, Severus," he said, red eyes narrowing slightly as if still unsure.
Heaving an inward sigh of relief, Severus perched himself on the edge of the couch cushion. Whatever Voldemort was about to disclose to him must be important if he had to prove his loyalty first.
"You have studied diligently in the Dark Arts if I am not mistaken?"
"I have read a few books," Severus agreed with another sip from his glass.
"And in your readings have you come across the term Horcruxes?"
Severus was careful to keep the emotions rising inside his stomach from leaking onto his face. He seemed to pondered the question for a moment, giving himself ample time to decide how to proceed with the conversation. He didn't dare come off as too eager.
"I have read about the idea," he said slowly. "I first happened across the word in a book I bought from Borgin and Burkes during my sixth year. Naturally I wanted to learn more but Dumbledore had removed all books with even a mention of them before I arrived at Hogwarts."
The Dark Lord gave a wry smile but refrained from comment. "So, how much do you understand about the magic?"
"The lack of informative at school only peaked my curiosity," Severus expounded. "I found a few more books that touched on the subject but it wasn't until recently that I found one that gave a more in depth explanation. Apparently, Dumbledore removed the books into his own personal library."
"Secrets of the Darkest Art," Voldemort asked as he crossed his legs.
"Yes, my lord, that's the one."
"And what is your opinion on the spell?"
Severus tilted his head slightly and reclined against the rigid back of the couch. He needed to be careful here. One slip of the tongue and he would find himself in dangerous situation.
"It is complicated," he began, weighing each word carefully before speaking them. "Though for one seeking immortality it seems to be the first step in insuring your soul is protected."
Voldemort gave a thoughtful nod and then took a drink from his goblet. He was staring ahead at the fire, eyes narrowed in contemplation. Severus watched him carefully as he brought the cool glass to his lips.
"What if one were to attach their soul to a living thing," he asked as his gaze returned to Severus.
Rising his eyebrows, Severus found himself at a loss for words. Suddenly the pieces of the puzzle began to fit together. It all made sense. Quickly, he regained his composure in a swift decision to hide his new found realization.
"Such as another human," he asked casually, his thumb caressing the raised pattern on his glass.
"Or an animal," corrected Voldemort.
"It would be ill-advised," he said seriously. "Placing your soul in an ordinary object gives you the ability to hide it easily. However, another living creature has free will. It could run away or even turn against you."
"And what would happen if the maker decided to destroy a Horcrux they had made?"
There was the question he had been waiting for. This was no hypothetical conversation. Severus took the opportunity to drain the remainder of his glass. The sweet liquid burned its way down his throat, settling in warm pool in the pit of his stomach; it was almost comforting. Leaning forward, he placed the empty goblet on the tea table before answering.
"I would assume it would weaken the maker. That part of their soul would forever be destroyed," he answered, taking care to emphasize the word weaken.
He watched as Voldemort's lips pursed into a soured expression. The man looked down at the remaining liquid in his glass and gave it a swirl. Severus could almost see the thoughts turning behind the clouded gaze. For what felt like an eternity, they sat in silence as the dying fire popped lazily as the embers began to die.
"That will be all, Severus," The Dark Lord said suddenly.
Nodding, Severus stood and, offering a bow, moved to the open fireplace. He reached a hand into the floo powder and tossed a pinch into the fire.
"Severus," The Dark Lord called as the flames burned green.
Severus turned but the man wasn't looking at him. His red eyes seemed fixed on an invisible spot near the edge of the rug.
"You are not to speak of this conversation with anyone."
"Yes, My Lord," Severus agreed with a nod and then stepped into the awaiting flames.