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A/N: same deal; I am definitely not Jo . . . no, it's true. I'm really, really not.
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Severus stood stock-still, locked in deep thought, in the hallway from where Lucius had Apparated away on his assigned task only moments ago.
No. There was no way of helping it. Poor little fey child.
Severus closed his jet-black eyes for a moment and regretfully sighed.
This would simply have to be one more black sin to stain his already ink-dark soul . . . to provide a living virgin sacrifice to this demon that was his Master.
Almost instinctively his footsteps turned and followed the steep stone staircase down to the dungeons; down towards the comfort and familiarity of what had been his 'home' for nearly twenty years of his life.
Severus didn't know where else to go.
Besides that, there were several potions and salves secreted away in his hidden private stores that he could provide for the young witch. He was already mentally going over his inventory.
There were several that he already had on hand with which to make her maiden's plight more bearable both during, and after, the ordeal that she'd surely be enduring this night.
Severus had witnessed the Dark Lord 'performing' at revels; contrary to what was widely said, all wizards were not created 'equal'. Voldemort was very well-hung, and used his cock to punish instead of to pleasure.
Severus wouldn't even allow himself to imagine the terrors awaiting the poor little virgin on her wedding night; all he could offer were things to soothe and heal.
If that was all the mercy he could give the young witch, so be it.
At least it was something.
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It Takes One to Know One
Gregory Goyle sharply jabbed the tip of his wand between Luna's shoulder blades trying to hurry her along, even though both of the girls were already doing everything that he ordered them to do.
Gregory Goyle couldn't swim; he hated knowing that only the vaulted stone roof of these corridors and a bit of muddy lake bottom was all that kept a watery death from descending in a deluge upon him from above.
He attempted to disguise his fears, stemming from how deep they actually were under the Black Lake, but failed miserably.
Like all bullies, Gregory Goyle hid his own fears beneath the mask of cruelty and brutality toward others.
They'd only come up one or two levels within the dungeons when he suddenly turned them towards a vaguely more familiar corridor to their left.
Luna hugged Ginny more tightly about her waist as she pulled the docile girl even more quickly along; it seemed as if their destination was to be the Head of Slytherin House's office.
Surely things were now looking up for them, and Luna finally allowed a faint hum of some unknown, slightly off-key, tune to slip from her lips. Ginny shivered in her arms, and Luna gave her a comforting squeeze.
Goyle stopped before the closed door, pushed the two girls to the side, and knocked.
The door slowly creaked open by itself, as it did for any Slytherin who knocked. Goyle indicated for them to enter with a bossy nod of his thick head and final imperative jab of his wand pointing their way.
Luna pulled an unresisting Ginny even tighter against her side, and the pair tentatively stepped inside.
As the heavy dark oaken door again creaked when it slowly shut behind them, Neville Longbottom leapt up from the bench where he'd been sitting.
"Luna! Ginny! You're alive!" he exclaimed as he exuberantly embraced them both.
Neville sobered as soon as he'd observed Ginny's lack of response and void expression. It reminded him of the blankness of his parents whenever he'd visited them in St. Mungo's with his gran.
He silently led the girls over to share his bench, and gently helped Ginny to sit down.
With Ginny taken care of, Luna chose instead to wander around the office to curiously peer into the various jars and containers of pickled and preserved rare and ugly creatures that were Severus' private little museum of intimidating horrors.
Thus it was that only Luna observed the hidden door at the back of the office open to admit the dark Potions Master himself.
Neville simply assumed that he'd 'popped' in from thin air as he approached them carrying a tray of steaming mugs of some kind of poison or potion.
The young Gryffindor wasn't exactly sure which they contained; either seemed to be just as likely when served up by his personal boggart made flesh.
Severus set the tray down on his mahogany desk and ordered them to "drink up".
Luna Lovegood arched a quizzical pale eyebrow at him, Ginny Weasley just sat there zombie-like, and Neville Longbottom crossed his arms defiantly across his broad chest as he shook his dark head in the negative.
The Potions Master gave an exasperated sigh, picked up one of the cups, and drank a long swallow from it's steaming depths. He sat the cup back down, and calmly took a seat behind his desk.
After a full five minutes, Severus cocked an amused eyebrow up himself as he said, "Obviously if I had intended to poison the lot of you, I wouldn't consume the potion myself or I'd be dead by now."
"What is it then?" suspiciously asked Neville.
Well, well! Apparently the boy had finally discovered his own set of Gryffindor balls, then.
Maybe there was still a reason to hope.
Severus gave a wry grin, and allowed his honest amusement to be seen to glimmer across his normally sardonic visage. It amazed the young wizard and the one cognizant young witch watching him.
"It's simply a nutrition potion. I've only just learned that none of the prisoners have been given any food, water, or medical treatment. It's been three days now; to immediately eat any quantity of real food will have rather 'explosive' consequences on your malnurished bodies, Mister Longbottom," Severus replied in his 'teaching voice'. "I had thought to spare you all of the physical indignities you will otherwise experience."
"By consuming this potion all of your depleted cells will be replenished, properly balanced, and better able to heal. That is what we'll be moving on to next, if you'll simply follow my orders instead of relying on your foolish assumptions." Severus paused to give a bored perusal to his manicure.
His nails had never been cleaner or smoother; Lucius' house elf really did a fine job of it.
Perhaps he'd allow his personal house elf, Gristle, to learn the technique for his continued benefit. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Luna reach for one of the cups.
Neville's hand stopped her in mid-reach. He manfully took up the cup in her stead, and drank it down in three long choking swallows.
"Bloody hell! That's nasty!" he exclaimed and he repeatedly wiped at his lips, as if to take away the bitter flavor.
After only mere seconds, Neville's color was much improved; he felt stronger, and was no longer hungry. He smiled at Luna and nodded.
Luna took up a cup for herself, and daintily sipped at it, wrinkling her nose at the potion's horrid flavor and smell. "Thank you for the potion, sir," Luna politely said as she replaced the now mostly empty cup on the tray.
She paused, then gently chided, "Sir? Is there any reason that it should taste and smell so horrible? You are a brilliant Potions Master, after all. Can the taste be improved upon without compromising the effectiveness? If so, think of all the hungry and now orphaned young children that it could keep alive."
It was the longest statement, and the most consecutive coherent words, that Severus Snape or Neville Longbottom had ever heard spill out of Loony Lovegood's mouth at one time. Ever.
Neville looked to be pleased as punch at her implied insult to the Professor.
Severus felt his nostrils quiver in his indignation that this mere slip of a chit, one that he'd earlier actually been pitying, should even dare to criticize one of his better inventions.
It'd been on the market for years now and had done quite well for him financially, thank you very much, despite it's truly awful flavor.
In fact, if not for his nutrition potion, several long-term-care patients at St. Mungo's (Longbottom's parents among them) would have long since starved themselves to death.
"I'm sorry sir. I didn't mean to seem rude or ungrateful," Luna softly said with downcast eyes.
Severus gave a brusque nod of acknowledgment at the girl's apology, and turned his gaze towards Ginny as he forgave Luna with a simple change of subject.
"How has Miss Weasley been these past few days? Has she shown any signs of awareness at all?" he asked Luna, his deep baritone warming with concern for the only surviving member of the Weasley clan.
At least he assumed her to be the only surviving member; neither George nor Bill Weasley's bodies had ever been found.
Maybe they'd somehow managed to escape during all the confusion of the final battle and the great surrender; Severus had no way of knowing for certain.
Lately it had seemed too much to hope for, that somehow the Light still had a few warriors left alive; far more likely that they'd simply ended up as werewolf food.
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Those horrible creatures had been sent out among the scavengers ordered with the cleaning up and removal of the dead from the battlefield.
They'd eaten and eaten, regurgitated whole chunks of flesh clearly recognizable as human, and then greedily consumed it again; like dogs, they'd turned to their own vomit.
It had even sickened Voldemort himself.
The Dark Lord had personally 'Avada'd a score of the obscenely evil creatures when he'd seen it with his own eyes. He had then sent out every last one of his junior Death Eaters on burial details instead.
He'd ordered a proper burial for all of the fallen dead, Death Eater and enemy alike.
Every deceased person was duly recorded with the Ministry, and their respective graves all had simple markers so that their survivors had an actual place to come and mourn their lost loved ones.
Voldemort really did have a huge amount of respect and care for all things magical, even the magical dead. Besides, the properly buried dead usually didn't walk or haunt the living.
It was good to 'nip that causality in the bud' (so to speak) and it gave his youngest Death Eaters an outlet to usefully burn off some of the adrenalin still pumping them up from the battle.
When they'd finished, they'd be too tired to be concerned about dipping their dicks anywhere except in their exhausted wetdreams.
Voldemort was pleased.
Severus had been too fatigued and still too weak from Nagini's attack to ponder it through right now. However, he had made a quick mental note to put the memory of these odd actions of the Dark Lord's into his Pensive.
He'd take them out and view them privately at a later date, with a clearer head.
Something seemed different about the Dark Lord since Potter's death; maybe it was just relief; perhaps it was the Master's form of rejoicing.
Maybe it was only his imagination.
Maybe it was simply wishful thinking.
Maybe . . . maybe it was something else entirely; something that he was afraid to allow himself to even begin to believe in.
Miracles were such rare creatures in Severus Snape's life.
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"No sir," Luna's soft sing-song voice brought him back to his surroundings with a jerk. "She's been just the same since her mother's death; she even sleeps with her eyes open, I think. It seems as if she's retreated so deeply into herself that she simply can't find her way back out."
Severus nodded his understanding, and focused all of his thoughts inward on various obscure and arcane potions and spells used to treat mental illnesses.
Off hand, he could find nothing in his extensive repertoire of knowledge to combat this particular thing; loss of the love and security of her family.
If only it were as simple as a lost love; there were at least twelve potions for that, she just would never be able to remember the person anymore.
That is exactly why Severus Snape had never availed himself of that particular form of sweet oblivion.
He'd been unwilling to give up the only truly happy memories from his childhood; his memories of Lily Evans.
Even with an inherited mental instability, two simple (but darkest of the dark arts) draughts could fix that right up, although it always costed another their sanity in return.
Just look at Bellatrix. She'd not only been quite beautiful but also brilliantly intelligent, and extremely talented in Potions herself, once upon a time.
Bellatrix Black LeStrange truly idolized her family, but she'd never had any children of her own. The wizarding world in general had thought her unable.
Bella loved her sister and new-born nephew with all of her heart. She doted on the infant as if he were her own. Draco had been diagnosed as a hopelessly autistic schizophrenic child at age three.
Bella had brewed a dark healing potion and fed it to the child over the course of a whole lunar cycle, loosing a bit more of herself each night.
Draco had never shown any further signs of the Black madness because of his aunt's sacrifice.
He'd eventually matured to become a bright and gifted young wizard solely thanks to her, and Bella had never once complained of the personal cost to herself. Now the boy was dead.
That was the only real problem with using dark magicks; there was always a terrible price to be paid all around.
Far better to simply be patient, give Miss Weasley good basic supportive care, and hope that (in time) the girl healed on her own.
He nodded his dark head again; this time in silent agreement with himself.
When his black eyes met Luna's soft dove-grey gaze, she smiled and nodded herself . . . just as if she'd been following his every thought to it's conclusion right along with him.
It was quite unnerving to Severus Snape, Master of Occlumency, to say the least. He'd never even felt her trying to touch his mind, she'd done it so gently.
Perhaps the chit would be able to survive the Dark Lord after all.
Luna smiled serenely, blushed, and slowly nodded her pale-haired head. Her gentle eyes held the wisdom of the ages as she met his ebony stare.
A flair of soul-deep recognition resounded within the dark wizard.
This child held Eildarvitch blood within her; of that fact, he had no doubt. The bloodline always called to others who also held it; Severus had inherited his own Eildarvitch blood from his mother, Eileen Prince.
His Eildarvitch blood was the very reason why he was so gifted in Occlumency and Legilimency himself. It was also the reason that he could perform wandless magicks; The Eildar's had had their powers before wands had ever been invented to channel magic through.
Like the Muggles always said, "It takes one to know one."
How Severus had never before 'picked up' on that fact about this child was an absolute mystery to him; probably because he'd mostly ignored little Loony Lovegood whenever it had been possible.
Most people did, except for those who mocked or misused her for their own amusement and feelings of superiority.
Harry Potter had been her very first real friend; the very first one to really "see" Luna and her talents and gentle spirit.
They were both marked by tragedy, and were both different from their classmates through no fault of their own; outsiders looking in, so to speak.
They'd struck up a friendship of sorts; but unbeknownst to Harry, she'd fallen in love with him.
Unlike Ginny Weasley (who had fallen in 'crush' with the Boy-Who-Lived, and the idea of being in love with the hero who'd so valiantly rescued her from the Chamber of Secrets), Luna had truly fallen for 'just Harry'; not the hero everyone else wanted him to be.
She'd never let it be known by so much as a single word or gesture; he'd had another destiny apart from her, but her heart simply wouldn't listen to her head at the time.
Now Harry's body lay at rest beside his mother and father in the simple but rundown cemetery in Godric's Hollow.
Voldemort himself had given the orders concerning the disposition of Harry's mortal remains, to the utter amazement of all of his supporters.
To Luna, it was merely one more reason to begin to think well of the Dark Lord. She was a Ravenclaw, after all, and had full-knowledge that history was written by the victors not the defeated.
Perhaps what everyone had been saying about He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named all along had not been entirely accurate.
Perhaps they'd exaggerated and concentrated on all of the evil deeds, and had omitted the good things about him; even if there were only a few redeeming points left in the man.
Perhaps she was only blowing smoke up her own arse to keep the fear at bay; she'd clearly seen exactly what was worrying the dark wizard before her concerning her fate.
And it had truly frightened her.
End Chapter 8
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A/A/N: sorry for the delay, y'all. Just realized how long-winded I'd gotten. Don't worry--Luna is going to be right back in the next chapter. I just needed a break.
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