Severus Snape paused in his work and tilted his head slightly to one side, causing his hair to shift slightly. Was that… he took a breath and held it.
One heartbeat, two, and there it was again; a faint scraping of stone on stone from somewhere far above.
The breath was released in a slow stream as his mind raced. A glance at the self-winding wall clock confirmed his suspicions: it was far past the lockdown hour. For someone to not only tempt the Dark Lord's wrath in such a fashion but to be granted entry could only be due to a momentous development, and here Severus found himself torn.
On the one hand, he had been ordered – by both Albus Dumbledore as well as the Dark Lord – to keep his head down and focused on his potioneering, though his presence was sometimes required on the "show of force" operations that the Death Eaters sometimes staged. The wood of his desk creaked as he tightened his grip, as on the other hand this could possibly be news regarding the location of a child of prophecy, for these days there was little else that was worth risking Lord Voldemort's wrath.
With what Dumbledore had told him, the protections that had been placed over Lily and her family were 'Unbreakable, even to one such as myself, Severus' the feeling of impending doom of the consequences of his relaying the partial prophecy had receded enough to allow him to focus on maintaining his cover. He knew, intellectually, that there was only one way through the Fidelius Charm; the Potters - and Lily with them - should be perfectly fine. He attempted to continue to convince himself of this, but found that he was still somewhat distracted as his mind seemed to be going in circles of 'what if, what if, what if…'
It was highly unlikely, Severus reasoned to himself, even as he began casting a variety of preservation charms over the simmering cauldron and assorted ingredients that lay before him in various stages of preparation. However, even in the event that his fears remained unrealized, there was still his duty to the Order to consider; namely, whatever this was, the fact that they would need to know about it. Normally this would not be enough to sway him, given that he would undoubtedly learn of this in the morning, but for some reason he could not quite shake that lingering thread of doubt.
"Damn it all."
One snap decision later, Severus Snape swept out of his lab, robes flapping behind him.
The door shuts behind him with a low thud, and part of his mind wonders, as it does every time he leaves this place, if this will be the last time.
As luck would have it, before Severus could set foot onto the spiral staircase, a patroller melted out of the wall and angled his head at just the right angle so that the light from the ever-burning torches in sconces along the wall glinted menacingly across the silver mask before halting, apparently having recognized just who it was he was attempting to accost.
"Snape," the man said, voice intentionally rough in an attempt to intimidate.
Pathetic.
"Good evening."
He continued on his way, never having halted his stride, secure in the knowledge that they both knew Snape could go wherever he pleased whenever he desired.
The remainder of his journey to the entry hall was uneventful and, after briefly questioning the guard stationed at the threshold to no avail, made his way to the meeting room where he stopped in shock.
There before him, speaking animatedly with the Dark Lord as though this were an every day, casual occurrence, stood Peter Pettigrew. Severus's sense of dread rose as the only logical conclusion to Pettigrew's presence, here, unharmed, apparently of his own free will reared its ugly head, for nobody suffering under the Imperius would act as such.
A clever play on Voldemort's part to turn Pettigrew to his cause, as nobody in their right mind would suspect this shell of a man. Even I had no idea…
Lord Voldemort acknowledged his presence with a theatrical wave of a hand. "Severus! Come, it is time that two of my most valuable agents met on friendly ground."
As Severus strode closer, using a twist of will to keep his face and mind calm, he saw Pettigrew stand up straighter at the praise and found himself having to suppress a sneer as well. He would need to withhold that animosity for now, as if it were to leak out even the slightest bit the Dark Lord would detect and then pounce upon it. He could not afford to draw such attentions, especially not now, when he had such vital information to bring back to Dumbledore.
"You may have met your match in this one, Severus! Peter here has finally managed to extract himself without detection and has delivered the most exciting news regarding that little matter you witnessed at the inn, all those months ago. It is finally time to bring an end to the whole affair, once and for all. As expected, Lord Voldemort shall prevail."
He drew to a halt in front of the pair, and stood with his hands clasped behind his back. "Is that so?" he said, looking Peter straight in the eye and drawing out each word. As tempting as the thought was, attempting to use Legilimency in the Dark Lord's presence would be tantamount to suicide, even for one of his skill level. To think that the unknown traitor to the Order was Pettigrew and not Lupin or Black as previously suspected… and then the second part of that statement registered. Thankfully, it seemed that none of his inner turmoil appeared on his face.
Such idiocy! To make Pettigrew of all people the secret keeper! Oh, Lily, Dumbledore; what have you done? How am I to salvage this?
While it was true that not a single living soul that had even the slightest knowledge of the sort of man Peter Pettigrew was could have possibly guessed at such a ploy, that very same clever thinking was about to have truly horrifying consequences.
While he had been trying not to succumb to an all-consuming panic, Voldemort had continued speaking. Given that Severus was still among the living his wandering attention must have gone unnoticed.
"-and so, Peter, why don't you share what you have learned?" The Dark Lord was clearly enjoying the moment, drawing out the moment as one might savor the last bit of a fine whisky.
Peter, puffing up further with pride, recited for the both of them to hear the home address of the Potter family, and the duplicitous means he had employed to obtain it.
The Dark Lord let out a long, nearly sexual sigh of utmost satisfaction. When he spoke, there was a rather disturbing breathy quality to his voice, "At last! We shall finally rid ourselves of yet another pest. This shall be the latest brick set down on our path of glory! Peter, Severus, join me in a toast to properly mark the occasion!"
It seemed that Voldemort was in one of his magnanimous moods this evening, though the darkly violent persona could very well still make an appearance. He would have to be very, very careful here.
A house elf appeared shortly after the implied request, bearing a tray with three elegantly shaped snifters and a bottle of fine gin. Severus took the glass when offered to him, rubbing one thumb absently along the gold overlay on the glass, and inclined his head deferentially in perfect sync with Peter as Lord Voldemort rose from his seat to stride toward them, snagging the bottle and remaining glass from the tray as he passed. The elf, having received a dismissive glance from Voldemort, promptly vanished from sight without a sound.
Severus stood, spine ramrod straight, one hand held behind his back as the other held the snifter forward as Voldemort approached. His extended hand remained steady as the Dark Lord looked him directly in the eyes as he poured, and he did not flinch or react at all aside from a slight tightening of the muscles in his jaw as he felt the icepick-like sensation of the surface Legilimency probe. It was over as quickly as it had begun, and Voldemort nodded slightly at him before moving to repeat the process with Peter. Severus noted with no small amount of dark satisfaction that Pettigrew's hands shook noticeably during the process, but he managed to avoid an outcry of pain or a spillage of drink; though, judging from his suddenly sweat-soaked brow, it was a very near thing indeed.
A shame, really; it would have been nice to see Pettigrew writhe under the Cruciatus. Perhaps his time would yet come. Should either of them survive this night, Severus mused, he may need to see to the matter personally.
The Dark Lord strode away from the other man after a notably longer stare - not so trusted, then - then turned to face the both of them. As Voldemort hold his glass up high and the two of them mirrored the action, Severus realized suddenly that, were you to draw lines between the three of them, a perfect triangle would be formed. A coincidence? No, surely not; the Dark Lord was proficient in Arithmancy, and would not do such things accidentally. In some ways, three was just as powerful as seven.
Before he could wonder further as to whether or not there was some other magic at play here, the Dark Lord spoke, "To our victory!" and downed the drink in one go. Severus and Peter echoed him in unison and, disturbingly enough, in harmony, before downing their drinks in synchronized motions. A chill ran down his spine that had nothing at all to do with the alcohol, delicious though it was. Instead of dissipating, the sensation deepened to the point where it was reminiscent of having ice water dumped down the back of his robes.
Lord Voldemort held his empty glass on high once more, and Severus found himself automatically mirroring the motion in synchronization with Peter. As their arms reached maximum extension, the feeling of cold was replaced with a rush of heat, and he noticed with shock that his glass had filled once more. He lowered his hand tentatively as the feeling of magic gripping him reduced sharply, but the background tingle remained as he inspected this new liquid. The consistency was that of thick oil, and though it was perfectly clear as the light played across the gently swaying surface a faint iridescence could be made out. A tentative sniff revealed a faint scent of vanilla and cloves, with an undercurrent of something he did not recognize.
Voldemort was speaking again, "The victorious will rise to the glory of the gods!"
Once again they echoed the words and drank as one, and as Severus swallowed it was as though there was a thunderclap in his very soul. He barely noticed as the house elf reappeared long enough to claim the snifters; his was pulled gently from his hand, and the sudden sensation caused him to snap back to reality. Never in all his years had he experienced anything quite like this, and even now a part of him felt a deep regret that he was about to turn his back on this man that was bringing such ancient and powerful magic back into the world.
The impromptu ritual having concluded, Severus steeled himself for the necessary confrontation. It was plain for all to see, for to judge by his body language even one such as Pettigrew had picked up on this fact, that the Dark Lord would soon set himself to shuffling the Potter family from the mortal coil. As much as it may condemn him even further to admit it, he would be able to live with the deaths of the husband and child if it would mean that Lily be allowed to survive. On the other hand, there was also the small matter of the war itself. Perhaps he could redirect the Dark Lord's attentions?
"My lord, what about the Longbottoms?"
He paused to turn and regard Severus. "What about them."
"I recall it as clearly as you, my lord; the matter we discussed could also apply to another family. One bearing a male heir of pure blood, from a family that has long opposed our ideology, whereas the Potters in the past have tended more toward neutrality."
"Ah, Severus; I see you are recalling the little chat we had. Your… small request. A stay of my wand, was it not? To spare the mother?"
Peter was looking between the two of them now with obvious interest, but even he knew well enough to maintain his silence.
Severus squared his shoulders as the Dark Lord's gaze met his once more, but thankfully it was only probing in the traditional sense; there was no flash as there had been during the previous Legilimency session. As he seemed to be waiting for something, Severus chose to simply answer, "Yes, my lord is correct."
Voldemort made a considering hum as he tilted his way this way and that, as though he were observing an interesting artifact. His nostrils flared as though he had caught a scent, "Severus, I seem to recall you saying that, ultimately, you had no interest in her. Surely it cannot be that you were lying to me back then?"
Ah, now the pain came, but Severus did not allow his body to react to the sensation of his mind slowly being torn into bloody shreds as Voldemort scoured his thoughts for any hint of sedition. After an indeterminable amount of time, the presence retreated, and Severus was able to breathe once more. As he continued to do so without pain of further torture or sudden snuffing out of his life, it seemed that he had once again been able to avoid detection for the traitor that he was.
Well, nerve and skill had gotten him this far; it was time to press the matter while Voldemort was convinced that what Severus had allowed him to see - namely, that his protests were rooted in a closely-held lust for Lily tinged with shame at her Muggle origins, as the best lies were based in truth - was reality. The more that he was able to build up these differences between what Voldemort perceived and what was, the more influence he could exert over the man. Though, to be fair, such things were measured in matters of very small degrees indeed.
One did not force the Dark Lord to do anything that he did not wish to do.
At the same time, Severus didn't see a way out of this with his goal - a happy, healthy Lily Potter - intact. She was not the sort of woman that could go on living live to the fullest following the brutal murder of her husband and son. If she were, then he would never have been so captivated by her.
No, all of them would need to live. She may never be his, but she would be whole, and that would just have to be enough.
These thoughts and more raced through his head as he cast about desperately for some shred of argument that he could use to convince Voldemort that it was in his best interests to not follow his instinct to eradicate a potential threat as soon as the opportunity arose. He straightened himself up the rest of the way, and allowed a slight wince to ghost across his face; from the hint of delight sparking in response from Voldemort, he knew this was the right decision.
"My lord, my personal feelings notwithstanding, it is a question of timing. Should the Order learn that we can bypass the Fidelius, and should the Potter child not be one of note, then the Longbottoms will be whisked away and we will have given up a great advantage" here, he nodded grudgingly at Peter, who had observed his lack of reaction to the torture with horrified awe, "for relatively little gain. We should wait, instead, to lull them into a sense of security."
Voldemort seemed to consider this for a long while, with one pale finger rubbing at this chin as he stood there, deep in thought. Severus could feel a single bead of sweat meandering its way down his spine.
Finally, Voldemort spoke once more, "No, I am certain of it. This is the path upon which I must walk, and I intend to do so promptly. Peter, you are to re-assume your cover, as I will have further need of your position. Severus, when I return, we shall discuss what you shall tell Dumbledore about the events of this evening. Return to your lab for now; this will not take long."
As Voldemort turned on his heel and stalked his way toward his chambers, presumably to change into what the Death Eaters colloquially referred to as his war outfit, it was all Severus could do to keep the sense of dread from overwhelming him completely.
He had failed, and so there was only one course of action left to him; he would need to arrive at the Potter family home before Voldemort, or all would be lost.