A/N: I am SO sorry about not giving you guys some closure like……a few months ago. But here it is. The final chapter.
CHAPTER 15: THIS POISON COMES INSTRUCTION FREE
Saying goodbye hadn't been as hard as Severus thought it was going to be. Dealing with the fallout of emotions from what he had been forced to do was, on the other hand, a death blow in its own right. It had been several days since her death, but he could remember every moment of it in precise detail...
Only other Order members were to know about it. Remus and Tonks both protested heavily, but Morgana made sure that they understood just what would happen if Severus failed. McGonagall was obviously upset, but kept her emotions in check as she said goodbye. Dumbledore, in his grandfatherly ways, hugged Morgana and told her that she would always be remembered in the halls of Hogwarts.
It was then that Severus took hold of Morgana's icy hand and led her through the cavernous dungeons into his office. A singular cauldron had been simmering over an ever-present fire in his private workroom, and when he extinguished the flame, the contents were an acidic green. It was quite obvious what he had been brewing, and Morgana involuntarily shuddered as she looked at the hissing liquid.
"Nightshade root, I imagine?" she had asked, waving a hand in front of her to waft the fumes away from her nose.
Severus nodded as he pulled a phial out of the cupboard. He rolled his sleeve up and filled the glass tube; the stopper he placed on it had a red P written on the top.
"Poison," Morgana whispered.
Severus looked over his shoulder at her and said coldly, "I refuse to kill you with my wand. If I'm going to murder you, let it be by my skill at potions and not silly wand-waving."
She sighed and remained silent as they made their way back up the stairs from the dungeons and into the main hall, where the members of the Order were waiting to say their final farewells. McGonagall and Tonks were both weeping, and from the red in Lupin's eyes it appeared he had been as well. Only Dumbledore looked on the two darkened forms with pride as they emerged from the staircase. Severus would never understand how the headmaster mentally dealt with atrocities such as sending innocent people to their deaths, and it was not something he wanted to dwell on.
"You are braver than you know, the both of you," the old man said quietly as Severus and Morgana, both draped in black, glided silently past him to the giant oak doors. Severus recalled Morgana smiling briefly before turning away from the small party and clutching his clammy hand in her own.
The couple walked down the lawn in silence. The grass was still wet with dew, and a frigid wind was sending violent gusts at them; neither, however, seemed to care, as they stared at the iron gates they slowly neared. Severus squeezed Morgana's hand as tight as he could, desperate to feel whatever warmth he could from her body.
The gates loomed in front of them, and as they came within a few yards one of the doors swung itself open. As Morgana passed through, the world around Severus seemed to stop, and all he could see was the radiant woman, her dark hair whipping about her face in the wind, walking gallantly to her death. She had realized his abrupt pause in stride and stopped, extending the hand that had slipped away when he stopped walking. He grabbed it and pulled her close, his lips crushing hers. Desperation pulsed around both of them as she ran a hand through his hair and buried her face in his shoulder.
"I can't," he whispered, staring numbly at the phial in his opposite hand.
Morgana turned her head and followed his gaze. Her empty hand relieved him the duty of carrying her fate, and she kissed him again. "You won't have to."
Severus wrapped his arms around her one last time, and, placing his wand on the blemish on his left arm, whisked the both of them away to the manor. When they arrived, they appeared not in the hallway as usual, but directly in the appearance hall. Severus quickly let go of Morgana and shoved her onto the ground, a mask of utter contempt washing over his face, hatred clouding his mind of all other emotions. Fellow Death Eaters stood in a circle around them, and at the head was Voldemort.
"Welcome, Miss Cimmerii," he said cooly, his terrifying red eyes widening with excitement.
Morgana snapped her head up and glared at Voldemort. "You bastard," she hissed.
"Bite your tongue, child!" Alistair shrieked, and darted out of his place in the circle to deliver a slap across the face to his daughter.
Voldemort chuckled; Snape ached desperately to light Alistair's robes on fire and watch with glee as he turned into parchment. "Return to your place, Alistair," the Dark Lord's hushed voice echoed.
Morgana's father bowed to his lord before reassuming his position beside another, masked, Death Eater. The half-vampire in the center shook her head and stood up, clutching the phial in her pale hand.
"I believe my request was for her to be dead when she arrived, Severus," Voldemort called nonchalantly. "It appears to me that Miss Cimmerii is quite alive."
"It will soon be remedied, master." Severus drew his wand and pointed it shakily at Morgana, who had turned to face him. "Drink it, Miss Cimmerii," he demanded, forcing his tone to be pure acid. Morgana, as planned, silently refused to budge, her amber eyes glaring with all the hatred she could muster. "Do you require assistance, madam? Open the phial!" he shouted as he took a step towards her, his wand dangerously close to her face.
Mechanically, Morgana's empty hand removed the stopper from the glass phial and threw it at Severus' feet. His black eyes bored into her ambers, watching as she brought the phial to her lips. With one last look that was full of every emotion she had ever felt for him, she threw her head back and downed the poisonous drink.
Severus took a few steps backwards and watched in muted horror as the scene unfolded. Morgana's pupils became dilated and her knees gave out from under her; the smack of bone against tile echoed throughout the cavernous hall. Her slender body began to spasm violently, and she clutched at her throat as the poison began to take effect and constrict her windpipe. A shrieking laughter came from the dais where the Dark Lord was seated; Snape felt as if he were going to vomit. He couldn't watch her suffer this way – but if he looked away, even for a moment, Voldemort would see, and would know of his treachery. And so he looked on, his stomach reeling as one final scream escaped her lips, and she was then silent. She stopped moving. Severus, unsure of whether her life had finally escaped her or not, leaned over her body and looked at her. The light that had once been so radiant in her eyes had been extinguished and it was unnecessary for him to check her pulse. She was gone.
"Wonderful show, Severus!" Voldemort applauded. "I do hope we shall see far more of the likes of that in the near future!"
"Thank you, my lord," Severus whispered in a hollow voice as the other Death Eaters filed out of the room. Voldemort sent him a menacing glare and waved a hand at him, signaling his permission to leave the manor.
Now he was alone in his study, a crumbled piece of parchment lying on top of the piles of ungraded papers in front of him on the desk. It was a small note, and parts had been blotted by tears, but it meant the world to him. You are a hero in my eyes. I love you. She had shoved it into his hand before he had pushed her away from him at the manor; it was everything she had wanted to say to him at the gates, but couldn't for fear of Voldemort seeing through his Occlumency. He stared at it and slipped a hand into one of the many pockets lining his robes, and pulled an empty phial out. Shaking slightly, he rolled the parchment and slipped it into the phial, sealing it with the same P-marked stopper she had thrown at him only nights prior.
The scraping of wood against stone echoed off the high ceilings as he got up and made way to his private quarters. Next to his large four-poster was a black mahogany table, the top drawer missing both key and handle. He muttered a spell and unlocked the incredibly difficult ward he had placed over it, and the drawer slid silently open. A blood-stained, black handled athamae lay next to an untidy bundle of black strips of cloth and some delicate slips of parchment. Severus stared momentarily at the blade, and a dull pain began to consume his body as he repressed memories of his initiation into Voldemort's inner circle. Releasing the breath he had been holding, he carefully placed the phial into the drawer, closed it, and sealed the wards up again. With another sigh, he stripped his robes off, slid under the heavy blankets, and slipped away from the hellish nightmare of his reality to the ones of his dreams.