Whew. It's been a loooong time! I am so sorry. I'm still writing, I promise you. I've just had a terrible case of writer's block which is unfortunately what happens when I have periods of down moods. Here's a nice little intense piece for you all to enjoy... hope you like it. (and more to come shortly)

The Pureblood Prince

37

Last Meals

Regulus Black had never felt happier in this life. Everywhere he trod, he was applauded and congratulated. The Dark Lord broke forth from the crowd that now looked like mere smudges of wet paint in comparison to the sharpness of his image. He drifted toward him, and in his eyes there shone nothing but the purest of pride.

But Regulus received no comfort from that, no warmth, no affection… well… not affection, exactly, but at least he thought there would be a certain kind of regard. But there was no regard and there was no ill feeling. He felt nothing toward the Dark Lord. He was indifferent. His Masters pride was not the reason that he was contented: the face of his mother was…

She had never smiled at him the way she did now – with the Dark Mark singing out proudly on his left arm. All his life, his main ambition was to make her happy, make her proud, and he had settled all of his life with slight stiff nods of agreement (if he was lucky), or, more usually, mere silence to indicate that he had done nothing wrong… yet. The upward curve of the lip was usually reserved for Sirius.

But now it was he who was the victor! His brother had all but vanished from Walburga's thoughts (and quite literally from the family tree), and he was all that was left; the only one who could take care of her. She made her way to the front of the crowd; the Dark Lord had all but vanished from sight now.

She wrapped her arms around him for the first time, and slowly kissed his lips. Regulus could feel himself melting. If becoming a Death Eater was all he had to do to keep her this way forever – it would be a small price to pay. He remained in her arms for a few moments, not knowing quite how to respond as no one had ever held him before, but he knew that he liked it…

"You're everything a mother could hope for," she whispered in his ear with such affection that it sent tingles down his spine.

"T-Thank you, mother…"

And then all of a sudden, about ten pairs of hands grabbed him from behind. They began to drag him away from her, and from the rest of his family who had now gathered and were watching him with gleaming faces. Regulus began fighting against the group – but the more he fought, the more he appeared frightened and antagonistic to what was happening, the more disappointed his mother looked.

Before he knew it, he was being dragged toward a murky cliff. Two feet from the edge – the cloaked figures stopped for a moment; Regulus craned his neck, searching for his mother, his eyes pleading with her to rescue him, to save him from this fate… but when he finally found her face, he saw nothing but the purest pride in her eyes.

There was nothing he could do. He was utterly powerless. Live and be hated, or die and be loved. Either way, he would never be with her again. He had to make her proud… he hoped she would cry for him the way she had cried for Sirius. He closed his eyes and tilted his body backward.

An almighty thump radiated from the back of his head to the back of eyes. He opened his eyes and thought he was dead… but then he saw the hazy silhouette of the black chandelier looming above him and felt the stinging in his eyes, and he knew this wasn't death. It was painful, excruciating life. Every detail of the dream came back to him in one swift hit, and he could not contain his sobs.

After about two minutes, the bedroom door slowly creaked open – unheard by the inconsolable teenager. The only sign he received of a presence in the room was when a tiny skeletal hand reached out and began to slowly stroke his shuddering shoulder blade. Regulus flinched at first, but gently melted into the touch; he needed someone to be with him and to hold him, it had never and would never be his own mother, so he would have to make do.

The House elf cradled his head as he cried himself to sleep, and was still rocking him by the time dawn had began to make its way through the heavy black curtains.

It was an unusually sunny August morning. It was not that August was an unusually sunny month - it was just that the summery, luminous glow that filled the air was at wars with the dark, murky storm that was currently wrecking havoc within Severus's chest. So today was the day…

"Stop cracking your knuckles!" Serafina barked. They were swiftly walking side-by-side amongst the high grass on the way toward the dark glen; the glen that was all too familiar for Serafina, but a stranger to the now trembling Severus.

The dense, foggy marshland was coming clearer and clearer into view.

"Wait," Severus objected. He was barely audible but Serafina halted in her tracks.

"We can't wait," she explained simply, still with her back to him. "He won't wait for you."

Severus nodded, though he had no idea who he was nodding to. "I realise that, but it would be better to wait just a few minutes then for him to catch on to what we're doing…"

Serafina bit so hard on her thumbnail that she almost ripped a corner off it. "A fair point. What is the matter?" – it was now that she turned to look at him, and he did not look at all well.

"What's the matter?" Severus repeated, barely able to believe that he had heard that question come out of her mouth. "I'm about to become enslaved for my, now presumably, very short lifespan - and you… I don't know why I bother. You're a mound of flint. Forget it."

And instead of receiving just a single shred of sympathy, Severus found himself being shoved up against the side of a tree by a surprisingly sturdy seventy-something year old woman.

"What on earth has happened to you in the space of twenty-four hours?" Serafina demanded, her hand inches from roping his jugular. "I had trained you perfectly; you were impeccable in your skills! I was proud to call you my blood… and now…" she huffed through her nose. "… Now you have apparently transformed yourself into a whiny brat. We should turn back now and spare ourselves the embarrassment."

Severus knew she was only trying to provoke him. He would have spat in her face, but it would have been what she had wanted. He merely smirked.

"If only…"

The grip loosened a little.

"This is the last time you are allowed one shred of sentiment, so I hope you use it well. Once we are within the boundaries of the dark glen everything you do and everything you think will be closely monitored; take a moment to say whatever it is that's on your mind and for Merlin's sake be done with it."

Severus pondered her words for a while. With one of her hands so close to his collar, the only fitting response to this was: "it's like having a noose around my neck…"

He could tell he should not have said what he did, for her eyes became soft and she released him.

"Let's go," she instructed softly. "I'll be just behind you."

There was a distinct drop in temperature as the sky became dense with towering trees. Severus took this as a cue to empty his mind of all that he held dear, while trying to focus on the lake looming ahead of them, and not the unbearable desire to look in all directions at once – wondering where the Dark Lord would choose to appear.

The pair of them didn't dare speak or look at one another while they waited in silence. All Severus could do was focus on his breathing; the sudden shift in temperature had turned his breath from invisible to smoky… it was as if his own breath was taunting him.

He didn't have long to ponder his respiration rate, for soon two cloaked figures with white masks had appeared in front of them with a sound like the cracking of a whip. One of them Severus instantly recognised as Lucius Malfoy (with his long blonde locks he couldn't be anyone but): a prefect that had welcomed him into Slytherin house when he was but a first year. The other he was unsure of…

"Bring him here." A cold voice emanated from the shadows. Lucius and the other Death Eater grabbed underneath his arms harshly. Severus felt his grandmother's hand grasp protectively at his shoulder – but by the time he turned around to look at her, Serafina had appeared to quickly regain her composure.

The next thing he knew, he was surrounded by a dozen or so masked Death Eaters – enclosing him in an ethereal circle. From beyond their shoulders, he saw a shadow snake its way over the misty lake. An unforgiving, uncontrollable handful of fire ignited from deep within Severus's throat… he was almost certain, from the way that the Dark Lord hung in mid-air, surveying his prey, that he had been immediately found out and would be blasted into a thousand pieces on the spot.

"Kneel," the Dark Lord ordered in a voice no louder than a harsh whisper. Before he could do anything, Severus felt every muscle cell in his body twitch and pull one all-consuming direction. He was now on his knees with about ten wands were marked on his eyes from the surrounding Death Eaters. Severus's mind continued to be nothing but a black hole… he knew that he must not falter now; if his mind resisted the Imperius curse, even for a moment, it would all be over.

"Very good…" came the empty voice of approval; Severus would have breathed a sigh of relief if his mind had allowed it. "You may leave us. Lucius – stay."

He wanted to look around for his grandmother. As much as he reviled her and the prison she had entrapped him in, it would have been nice to see a familiar face. But he knew she had gone, or had been forced to leave, along with everyone else. Only the three of them remained.

Severus kept his eyes trained on the long grass directly below him. Above he heard the Dark Lord whisper under his breath, and suddenly his invisible bonds were released. He remained in his submissive position.

"He knows his place," the Dark Lord hissed approvingly. "Rise."

Severus waited for the Imperius curse to take hold once more, but no force came. It was clear that he was expected to do this of his own accord and will. He stood to his full height, not daring to look his future master in the eye just yet.

"Lucius – you are still ready and willing to remain benefactor to our newest recruit, I trust? You are prepared to be solely responsible for his ongoing training and delivering his retrospective punishments if he fails to perform?"

"I am, my Master." Came the elder man's voice from behind Severus's left ear. It was clear that there was no more than a foot between them.

"Very well, then. Severus Tobias Snape…" the Dark Lord called. "… It is a pleasure to meet you at last."

His voice was the coldest sound that had ever penetrated Severus's ears. No pleasure whatsoever had passed through that heart, he was sure.

"Thank you for the privilege, my Lord." He dutifully replied.

"We've had a lot of promises made about you, boy. I trust that you will exceed them… and in return you shall be rewarded beyond your wildest dreams."

"I will do whatever you bid, my Lord."

"Good boy. Now look into your Masters eyes. Observe him."

Severus did as he was bid. He was met with an approving smile… well… not much of a smile as a slit.

"Then it is time to test your devotion, Severus Tobias Snape. My dear Serafina has filled me with high hopes."

He nodded toward his left shoulder. "Lucius, into your position."

Severus was momentarily met with the icy grey eyes behind the white mask that he was sure he would soon be getting warmly acquainted with. Lucius's wand was, for a second time, directed straight at him. Severus focused every molecule of his being on slowing down his rising inhalations…

"You are willing to do whatever I bid," Lord Voldemort repeated. "That promises great loyalty… and loyalty is a asset that I value above all others. If I were to test that loyalty, do you think that you would emerge victorious, Severus?"

"Without a shadow of a doubt, my Lord" Severus answered – without a shadow of a doubt.

"Then let us experiment. Lucius - whenever you are ready…"

Before Severus had time to process what was just uttered, a bolt of red flashed in front of his eyes. In a millisecond he was on the floor, the screams were unavoidable. A thousand white-hot needles drilled their way into the epicentre of every nerve in his body. He had never felt physical pain like this in his entire life, nor did he think it were possible to feel pain like this. Within sixty seconds of thrashing about on the grass, grasping onto it for dear life, he felt the peripheries of his eyes slowly begin to cave in; he knew he was about to lose consciousness. Severus could only pray for it. Because he was not going to beg for relief and fail his first test… no…

"Stop, Lucius."

Thankfully, so very thankfully, relief came without begging. The curse had been lifted, and he was left turned face down in the marshland, clutching onto the earth for dear life. Severus felt as though every bone in his body had just been crushed simultaneously. Movement was a complete impossibility.

The coldest hand he had ever felt slid its way underneath his head and cupped his chin upward. He could see Voldemort's face beyond his bloodshot and tear-filled eyes, he made out a faint nod.

"Did that feel good, Severus? Did it feel good to please me?"

Barely able to keep his eyes open, let alone focused, Severus shut them and whispered: "Yes. Yes."

"It did, didn't it? However, I am afraid you have a long way to go before I am pleased. Let us give it a few hours and then we shall see what real, true loyalty looks like. Lucius? Again, please."

No, no, no, no, no, no, please, please, please, please…

The bolt came so fast that Severus's clenched jaw locked tight around his tongue as his body arched at what felt like a complete right angle. He could feel a warm and thick substance drench his entire face and neck, but he did not have the mental capacity to decipher that it was his own blood.

The torture and screams came in their constant unrelenting waves over the course of those first excruciating three hours that would forever be branded into his memory. The more and more they came, the more and more Severus prayed for death. The more and more he prayed for death, the more and more intense the pain… slowly, Severus begun to forget everything down to his name.

"Loyalty is bliss, is it not? Answer!"

"Yes," Severus choked. It was only by rearranging his knowledge of the English language that he was able to answer and mean it. Yes was not yes anymore, yes was no from here on in. "Yes, my Lord."

The only thing he didn't forget, however, was the reason he was there. It was the sole thought that kept his other thoughts locked away, safe in the vaults of his subconscious. It was possibly the only thing that kept him alive that night. The three hours came and went after what seemed like ten million hours; but he knew, he knew it would never be that easy. He knew the next stage of the initiation was waiting for him.

If this had been the mere appetizer, this torture beyond torture… the thought of what was to come – the rest of the initiation and the years beyond – could simply not be stomached. The horrors were literally unimaginable.

He could only thank his lucky stars that, just for this moment, he had an excuse to scream.