Chapter 9 - To trade one hell for another
Severus had been stalking his house for about an hour when the door finally opened and his father stepped out. The bastard was really late for work, which meant that as predicted he must have gotten spectacularly drunk again the previous evening, having restocked himself with vodka recently, and that it had been the right decision not to come home last night. While Tobias Snape was actually more dangerous when sober —he had surprisingly good reflexes and balance—, it was the booze what rendered him stupid enough as to attack a wizard that would come of age in less than a year. Or perhaps he was stupid all the time, otherwise he would have made more of an effort to kill Severus now that he stood a chance —however slight— or at least would have begun making plans to move to another planet before January.
Once the coast was clear Severus went around and tried the back door, which —also as predicted— was locked. If there was something his father enjoyed —besides drinking, watching TV, and beating up his abnormal son in the absence of his abnormal wife— was locking his son out of the house as punishment for not returning home before his arbitrary curfew. Since Severus didn't intend to ever come back here —not unless it was to kill the fucking bastard—, this time he didn't hesitate to smash a window to get in, and soon he was twisting his face in disgust at the state of the kitchen. His mother used to keep everything clean and orderly, now the house was filthy and there were broken things all around from all the violent confrontations that had taken place over the last month. Of course his father had commanded him to clean up, but no matter how many additional blows he had landed Severus had firmly refused to step into the submissive role of his mother.
Doing his best to ignore the mess and the sight of his own blood spattering the floor, he opened the fridge and extracted every eatable item —even his father's forbidden cheese—, which together with some crackers he found in a cupboard made for a decent enough breakfast. He washed it all down with vodka, hoping the alcohol would numb the pain a little or at least warm him up after the night he had spent shivering under a bush. His growling stomach soothed, Severus proceeded to take a shower, which was a painful affair with so many open wounds but at least ended pleasurably thanks to the images of Lily in her summer dress that had been branded in his brain yesterday.
His temporary bliss vanished when he stepped out of the bathroom and caught sight of his half-naked reflection in the hallway mirror. He looked like crap. Thinner than he had ever been, covered in scars and fresh injuries, sickly pale, and of course ugly. What could Lily see in him? Was he fooling himself thinking that she might choose him over so many other, better-looking options? Not only he didn't possess any physical attributes worth mentioning —besides his cock, that is, which he would not mention—, he didn't have anything material to offer either, nor a family to introduce, nor liberty to date her out in the open. To complete the unpleasant picture, he had a foul temper and kept pushing her away. Why in her right mind would she want to be with him?
Thoroughly depressed, Severus tore his eyes from the inexplicably still standing mirror and went into his bedroom, where he quickly dressed in whatever clean and whole muggle clothes he had left and began packing his trunk. He tried to keep his mind occluded, but images of everything that had happened in this room constantly leaked through, bringing with them emotions that made his hands tremble and his heart race. It had been near impossible to sleep here in the last month, knowing that at any moment his bastard of a father could barge in and drag him out of bed for another session of belting practice.
Severus hated himself for being more afraid than angry on a subconscious level, and especially for having allowed a bloody Muggle to beat him up. Of course he had fought back every time, but his father was so much heavier and stronger than him... Fighting had only made things worse, he knew, but knowing that he had not taken it passively like his mother allowed him to somewhat respect himself. He might have proven himself too weak physically, but he knew that he could have transfigured the bastard into a slug if his magic had not been restricted by that underage nonsense, in fact he could choose to see all his scars as evidence of his self-restraint rather than of his weakness.
Pushing away all those images and emotions, he carefully placed the books Wilkes had lent him inside the trunk, smirking at the memory of his father getting burned for daring to put his filthy muggle hands on the darkest one. Severus had paid dearly for that, but Tobias Snape had not dared to touch any of his other magical possessions as a result of the incident so he could only be grateful for Wilkes' nasty books.
And speaking of precious possessions...
Severus pushed the bed aside and lifted the loose floorboard that had been his only source of relief over the last month. Underneath it he found his beloved wand, intact and eager to be back on its master's hand. Warmth ran up his arm when he finally reconnected with that extension of him, his lips twisting in a fond smile at the subtle feeling of abandonment the wand radiated.
Yes, I know you would never abandon me willingly, he thought with a lighter heart. And I will never part with you for so long ever again.
If there was something in this world he could count on, it was his wand. He didn't really need it to perform magic, but it had become a reliable, essential partner over the years, one that would not judge nor question him but instead support him unconditionally in his quest for power.
Severus wasn't sure whether his father would have dared to destroy his wand —he might have only intended to confiscate it for the duration of the holidays—, but he had not been willing to take the risk. His refusal to surrender it had been the cause of the first brutal trashing that summer and had set the tone for all subsequent interactions between them, but as far as Severus was concerned it had all been worth it to ensure the safety of this irreplaceable piece of hawthorn.
Securing the wand inside his right sock, he turned his attention to the other contents stashed under the floorboard. He couldn't help to sneer reflexively at the sight of Gryffindor colours, but it was almost with reverence that he picked up the scarf that Lily had given him as a gift for his twelfth birthday and buried his nose on it. The thing had never really smelled of her —it had been a brand new scarf and no one had ever worn it— but the scent of dyed wool still evoked memories of Lily's impish smile as she watched him unwrap his present.
He would never admit it, but he had loved the gift, and contrary to what he had told her he had not burned it at the first opportunity. It had been unnerving to hide a Gryffindor scarf in his trunk for half a year, knowing it would be the end of him if his Slytherin roommates saw it, but Severus had held on to it as he had held on to all the other silly gifts Lily had given him over the years.
A snort escaped him when he fished out the pink quill. Only Lily could get away with such provoking teasing, anyone else Severus would have cursed or punched on the spot.
He sighed. Had he lost that? Things had been so strained between them this last year that he couldn't remember the last time he had seen her laugh or even genuinely smile in his company. Even their birthday meeting had been rather tense, since they had argued over Christmas and Severus had not been yet ready to apologize until February. He retrieved his last gift from the secret recess and examined it guiltily. It was a watch, but of course not one that he could ever use since its design included a big smiley face that lightened up once per hour. Ridiculous as it was, Severus was sure that Lily had put a lot of time and care choosing it for him, and to his shame he had barely reacted when she had presented him with it for his sixteenth birthday.
Heaving another sigh —and wondering why had she ever put up with him—, Severus put everything back and carefully repositioned the floorboard before dragging the bed to its normal place. He didn't like leaving those precious mementos behind, but he couldn't risk Mulciber or any other Slytherin finding such compromising items in his possession, and he highly doubted his father would put too much of an effort searching his empty room for things to burn. As long as the drunken bastard didn't set the house on fire, Lily's gifts would remain safely hidden until he could come back for them.
Finished with his room, Severus moved on to his parents', stopping a moment in the doorway to fight off a wave of anger and desolation at the memories of his mother that assaulted him. He wanted to hate her, but no matter how hard he tried he just couldn't. Having lived the same kind of hell than she had, he could understand why she had left, and how could he blame her when he was choosing to leave too? What hurt was that she had had left him behind, but even that he had come to understand after several days of miserable reflection, when he had realized that she must have gone back to her family.
It was the only explanation that made sense, the only reason why his mother would not have taken him with her: the Princes would have never accepted her back unless she renounced her Muggle husband and her half-blood bastard. Severus could only try to imagine how hard it must have been for her to swallow her pride and admit to her parents that she had been a fool, how desperate she would have had to be to humiliate herself in such a manner, and that was why he couldn't really hate her. Eileen Prince had been a Slytherin too, if a weak one, and painful as it had been to be abandoned by her Severus couldn't help to grudgingly respect her for finally prioritizing her own survival over everything and everyone else.
He would never forgive her, however, for not sending him a bloody warning. If Severus had known beforehand what he would find at Spinner's End, he would have made plans to stay somewhere else the entire summer, perhaps arranging something with Wilkes until the Mulcibers came back from France. Instead he had unsuspectingly walked into a magicless hell where he had been immediately decorated with a collection of visible bruises that would have not allowed him to leave the house for weeks even if he had had an owl to arrange a place to go to.
Shaking his head, Severus forced himself to focus on his current task, which was searching his father's drawers and trousers' pockets. He already had enough money to get himself to London —that whimpering Muggle last night had been quick to bestow on him a wallet full of cash, and Severus had accepted it even though he had not intended to mug the asshole—, but if he could find what ought to remain of his father's last paycheck he might be able to avoid borrowing from Mulciber. With that thought in mind he tore apart the bedroom and then went downstairs to check the pockets of all the coats in the rack as well as any other place where Tobias Snape might have considered to hide money from his untrustworthy son. Severus already knew most of his hiding spots, having used a Summoning Charm last summer to uncover them, but it seemed like the bastard might be aware of this because to Severus' frustration he didn't manage to scavenge more than a few pounds.
Finally giving up, he proceeded to smash all the remaining vodka bottles against the kitchen counter, imagining with satisfaction his father's reaction when he came back to find all his booze gone and no one to blame within reach. Encouraged by this thought he also unplugged the TV and yanked off the cables, and after a moment consideration he did the same with the refrigerator.
It wasn't much —certainly not nearly revenge enough—, but Severus felt better leaving his father with those little reminders of his hateful son. He would come back to kill him some day, when he was free of restrictions and immune to consequences, but for now...
For now, it was enough to be able to leave, and to have somewhere to go.
The first thing he did when he arrived to Diagon Alley was to find a shop that dealt in second-hand stuff and trade all his Hogwarts' uniforms for a few regular black robes that fit better and could be used in casual settings. They were also second-hand, plain and odd-smelling, but at least would spare Severus from having to display his embarrassing Muggle clothes in front of a family of blood purists. He also procured bigger shoes and managed to intimidate the clerk into accepting some of the 'fancy' clothes he had stolen from his father as part of payment for some shirts and a pair of trousers suitable for Quidditch.
All in all, he was more than satisfied with his negotiations, and he felt a thousand times more comfortable and relaxed resuming his stroll along Diagon Alley dressed like a proper wizard, but it made him undeniably uneasy to no longer own a single set, however short or threadbare, of Hogwarts work robes. A nagging voice in the back of his mind kept whispering that he ought to have traded everything he owned for the school supplies he would need next year so as to avoid borrowing from anyone, but he resolutely ignored it. While school robes were something that could easily be traded for a different size without much additional cost, the same couldn't be said about textbooks. At least not about Severus' textbooks, which he had the habit of scribbling all over until the original text was barely legible. They would have given him next to nothing for his books, and Severus would have lost for nothing all those invaluable notes and ended up borrowing money anyway.
It had been a bit risky to sell his old robes before securing a loan, but Severus would very much rather not look like a muggle beggar when he approached a rich pureblood about it. Dressed like this he could pretend he didn't desperately need the money, perhaps even cover it up as a desire to visit certain Knockturn Alley establishment before going back to Hogwarts. Mulciber would not question that excuse, although he might insist in coming along so Severus would have to think carefully how to shrug him off.
When it was almost time to meet Mulciber, Severus made his way to Fortescue and reluctantly ordered an ice-cream before finally putting down his heavy trunk next to a secluded table. He had wanted to cast a feather-light charm on it the moment he had walked into the Leaky Cauldron, but he wasn't sure his magic would go unnoticed here without his mother to mask it. Severus had read a lot of books trying to figure out exactly how underage magic was detected, but the Hogwarts' library had only rendered vague or contradictory information that made one wondered whether anyone knew how it worked or if the Ministry and the school were intentionally keeping students in the dark so they would not dare to use magic during the holidays anywhere.
Grumbling in annoyance, he extracted Wilkes' Occlumency book and continued re-reading the chapter on how to clear the mind, being obsessively careful not to drip ice-cream on it. He couldn't think of anything less worth his last wizarding money than ice-cream, and his stomach didn't really agree with the cold sugary thing after his meagre diet last month and the vodka this morning, but Mulciber had proposed Fortescue's as meeting place so Severus had had no choice but to buy himself one lest anyone thought he couldn't afford it.
"You better not spend your entire time with us reading, Snape," warned Mulciber some time later, letting himself fall in a chair across the table. "I swear, I will tell the house-elves to lock the library if I have to."
Severus looked up and rolled his eyes.
"I don't need your pretentious library, I have enough books with me to ignore you until September if you bore me," he drawled as he closed the Occlumency book and put it back in the trunk. "Or if you insist on making me play Quidditch."
"That's not optional. I've already invited Avery, Dolohov, Macnair and several cousins this afternoon for a game, we need you to play!"
"Sounds like what you need is a referee, if Macnair will be playing."
"Macnair's sister is refereeing, no one better for the job. Come on, Snape, if you play we will have two teams of four, it's not really Quidditch with less than that."
Severus sighed and ran a hand through his hair.
"Fine," he spat, "but-"
"Merlin, what the hell happened to your hand?" exclaimed Mulciber suddenly. "Did you punch a wall again?"
Severus' eyes flickered to his right hand, which admittedly looked really bad and hurt every time he moved a finger.
"Not exactly," he said with a snort, gingerly caressing his injured knuckles with his other slightly less battered hand.
"A person, then?" asked Mulciber, his mouth twisted in an eager smirk.
"You could say so," said Severus with a shrug, "although I'm not sure Muggles qualify as people."
His mate stared at him with mouth open for a long moment before exploding in laughter.
"Damn, Snape, that's so not fair!" he cried after several seconds, wiping tears from his eyes. "I thought my summer was going great so far, but you've been having more fun than I have, haven't you?"
Oh, yeah, surviving Cokeworth Hell is so much more fun than lazing around in a Mediterranean beach, thought Severus resentfully. Fucking purebloods. Most of them liked to rant against Muggles, but all they knew about them they had read in highly biased history books that didn't really convey how far from funny it could be to deal with those hateful bastards if for some reason one's magic was restricted.
He had to admit, though, that beating the crap out of that cocksure Muggle yesterday had felt great. Cathartic. After all the times his father had overpowered him over the last month, being the one in control had been almost... healing.
"Well?" pressed Mulciber.
"Well what?"
"How did you do it? Just with your hands? No magic? Did you..." he lowered his voice and leaned closer, "... did you kill him? Did he beg? Wait! Was it a man or a woman? Did you-"
"Christ, you're disgusting," hissed Severus. "I don't beat up women."
"That's not what I was going to say," said Mulciber with a devious glint in his eyes.
"I know what you were going to say, that's why I said you're disgusting. Muggles carry all sort of nasty diseases, you know. Stick it in one of them and you might lose it." Severus smirked at the expression of horror in his mate's face. "That would be the least of your problems, though. What would your father say?"
"What would I say about what?" asked a grave, cold voice.
Mulciber practically jumped out of his chair at the sound of his father's voice. Severus climbed to his feet more gracefully, but Mr. Mulciber didn't even seem to notice him so busy he was fixing his son with a severe look.
"I, er... nothing important, father, we were just talking about our OWL results and what NEWTs we will be taking. Snape doesn't think I should drop Transfiguration."
Mr. Mulciber kept his hard gaze on his son for so long that Severus felt like squirming too, and when finally the cold eyes turned to him he almost confessed the truth on the spot. He held his tongue, though, and tried to wipe all emotion from his face using Occlumency.
"I would be indeed displeased if my heir dropped Transfiguration," said the man. "Hopefully associating with you will encourage my son to take more seriously his studies, Mr. Snape."
"I will do my best to encourage him, Mr. Mulciber," said Severus with a respectful nod.
The pureblood studied him head to foot very much like he had done last month at King's Cross, but nothing in his unreadable expression suggested he found Severus' wizarding attire any more acceptable than his previous muggle one. In fact the more he looked the deeper his frown became, and when those unblinking eyes rested again on his face the disapproval in them was unmistakable.
"Are you injured, Mr. Snape?" asked Mr. Mulciber suddenly.
The unexpected question made Severus panic, thoughts of everyone in Slytherin mocking him because he had let a filthy Muggle beat him bloody swarming into his mind. Whatever small amount of respect and recognition he had managed to earn would dissolve the moment it became known, and he could only imagine how much worse the Marauders' verbal abuse would get if they had his most embarrassing secret to use against him.
"Snape beat up a Muggle, father," blurted out Mulciber before Severus could betray his agitation. He looked down at his broken knuckles, realizing that his only visibly injuries were the ones he had inflicted to himself beating someone else, and that that must have been what had brought on Mr. Mulciber's inquiry.
The man threw a warning look at his son, glancing meaningfully at all the potential eavesdroppers around, and seemed to silently cast some sort of privacy ward around them before turning back to Severus.
"Did he, now?" he said softly, his eyes flickering down to Severus' hands and then meeting his gaze again, a speculative expression on his stern face. "Is your... father aware of what you did, Mr. Snape?"
"No, sir," said Severus warily, wondering if that was Mr. Mulciber's indirect way of asking whether the Muggle he had beaten up was his own father.
The man seemed satisfied with the answer, although Severus couldn't say what exactly he approved of or why.
"And your mother?"
Severus hesitated briefly before shaking his head.
"Is there risk of you getting in trouble with the Muggle authorities?"
"I... don't think so, sir," said Severus, feeling increasingly nervous under the serious gaze of his stern interrogator.
"Did you leave evidence behind? Witnesses?"
"Just the Muggle, sir."
"Alive?"
"Yes, sir. But he won't report it, I'm certain of it."
"How can you be certain?"
"I... I threatened him, sir. I told him I would go after his family if he challenged me."
The corner of Mr. Mulciber's mouth twitched slightly, and Severus thought he saw a gleam of satisfaction in his hard eyes before he turned serious again. At his side Mulciber was gawking at him with awe and envy written all over his face.
"You didn't use magic?" verified the pureblood next.
"No, sir."
"And you are positive that obliviation is not necessary?"
An image of this unnerving pure blood supremacist stumbling into Lily while searching for a random Muggle to obliviate in Cokeworth flashed through Severus' mind, and he resolutely shook his head.
"I'm positive," he said suppressing a shudder. "Besides it would defeat the purpose if he forgot, sir."
Mr. Mulciber's mouth twisted in cold amusement again.
"Indeed," he drawled as he made Severus' trunk disappear —presumably sending it ahead of them to the Mulciber residence— with a lazy flick of his wand. "I would advise you against such purposes for the time being, however, Mr. Snape. Playing with Muggles is not worth a stain in your record. Now come along, my wife will tend to your hands back at the house."
After lifting the privacy ward —or so Severus assumed based on the wand movement—, the man turned on his heels and set off in the direction of the Leaky Cauldron.
"He's always going on and on about our records," whispered Mulciber resentfully as they scrambled to follow. "He won't allow me to have a Muggle until I'm of age, and Mother keeps insisting that I should wait until I finish school, how unfair is that?"
Severus grunted noncommittally. He had little patience for spoiled purebloods who viewed Muggles as just another plaything they were entitled to, so while Mulciber continued ranting under his breath he allowed his thoughts to focus instead on the recent interaction with Mr. Mulciber.
It was hard to imagine the aristocratic man wearing a mask and getting his hands dirty slaughtering Muggles, but Severus could easily believe him capable of murder and torture, and at this point he was pretty sure that he was a Death Eater even if Mulciber had never confirmed it. He shivered at the thought that he had just been interrogated by a man who probably had direct contact with the Dark Lord and who might one day choose to speak for or against Severus. Not that it was likely at all that he would ever get to meet the dark wizard in person, of course, but that hardly mattered. His first priority was to secure some stability and protection for himself, and for that he needed to capture and retain the interest of Mr. Mulciber and other powerful individuals. His skills and grades had clearly drawn positive attention to his person, but it would take a lot more than that to earn their respect.
Severus didn't fool himself. He knew that he was still viewed as a second class wizard and that all the purebloods that had begun to show interest in him were carefully concealing their disdain in order to gain influence over him, but he didn't mind that much seeing that whatever they were planning for him apparently included making sure that he thrived, kept a clean record and had someone covering his back. It was actually quite flattering to have all those conceited snobs faking flattery and respect for a low-born half-blood like him.
He must not forget the truth for a single second, though, and the truth was that the tables could turn in an instant if they were to suspect that his ideologies were not so completely aligned with theirs and that he wasn't nearly as gullible as they thought. If they were to find out that he was using them to further his own goals, and that he did not intend to ever give Lily up if she agreed to be with him.
He must not forget, he thought as he met the cold eyes of Mr. Mulciber's before spinning away through the Floo, that he was indeed getting involved with dangerous people.
Severus had barely slept in the last three days, since his father's last drunken trashing. He had barely eaten, too, and his energy had been further drained by his talk with Lily and by his angry encounter with the Muggle afterwards. His back and hands burned, he felt generally ill, and he was beyond exhausted.
In this state, he was expected to spend the afternoon playing Quidditch.
At least he had eaten lunch —as much as his stomach could currently tolerate— and Mrs. Mulciber had healed his lacerated and fractured knuckles —he couldn't deny that it had been a bit hypocritical on his part to refuse to work on the mill to avoid injury and then go and break his knuckles against a Muggle—, but he still wasn't in the best shape when someone put a fucking broom in one of his still tender hands.
To make things worse, after hearing —and sharing with Avery and the others— the tale of Severus beating up a Muggle, Mulciber decided that he must play Beater, so Severus found himself with a fucking bat in his other hand.
Despite being the first time ever he played Quidditch, Severus wasn't nearly as surprized as everyone else to discover that he didn't suck at it. At all. Black's little stunt during their first flying lesson back in first year had branded him as an inept flier forever, but he could actually fly as well as bloody Potter —or so he liked to think. And, thin and slim as he was, he could do a lot of damage with a bat in his hand. Severus might not have visibly intimidating biceps like the typical Beater, but he was quite strong as a result of all the muggle fighting he had done ever since he was five years old and he made up for any physical weakness with ferocity.
If not for the fact that every time he hit a Bludger he felt as if every wound on his back was being painfully reopened —again—, he probably would have enjoyed it. He had never understood why anyone would want to waste time and energy playing Quidditch, but he could now at least appreciate the appeal of the Beater position, which combined physical exertion with anger management and at the same time was excellent training for real-life confrontations in the air. After all, if he could maintain his balance and keep an eye out for threats while hitting and aiming a Bludger at a specific player, he no doubt would be able to aim and dodge curses during a broom persecution.
As usual, however, being good at something didn't do him any good. Most of the purebloods present did not take well being thwarted or knocked off their brooms by a scrawny half-blood, and so they did their best to retaliate both verbally and physically even when they were playing in the same team during the second match. Hard as it was to control his temper with those entitled pricks, though, Severus actually had more trouble keeping himself from punching or hexing those who insisted on congratulating him by cheerfully thumping him on the back.
Severus was used to pain, and he knew that his wounds would heal on their own if he kept them clean, but the process would be excruciatingly slow if he had to play Quidditch every day. It also worried him that someone would notice he was in pain, or that blood stains in the sheets might be reported to the Mulcibers by the house-elves and bring an uncomfortable inquiry on him. So that night, when everyone had fallen asleep, Severus slipped out of the guest room he had been assigned to and silently crept downstairs determined to find a potions lab or potions storeroom somewhere around the house. It wouldn't look good if he was caught trying to pilfer valuable potions from his hosts on the first day of his visit, but it wasn't really stealing if they would give to him what he needed if he just asked, right? And besides a bottle of Essence of Dittany, expensive as it was, would hardly make a dent in the Mulcibers' finances, they probably wouldn't even notice something was missing.
Severus fantasized with the powerful properties of Dittany as he glided from one floor to another silently peering into dimly lit rooms and cupboards. It would be tricky to apply the substance to his own back, and it was bound to burn like hell and leave yet another layer of ugly scars, but it would reduce the healing process to just minutes and for once allow him a few hours of pain-free sleep. It would be nice to be able to lie on his back, and to shower with really hot water without agony...
Even if he didn't manage to find any potions to heal himself and he had to endure the pain for a while longer, life was going to be lots better here than it had been at Spinner's End. He might not be able to really enjoy anything at the moment, but he relished the prospect of eating regular Hogwarts-quality meals, sleeping in a comfortable bed knowing that his father would not show up in the middle of the night to beat him, having his own bathroom and, most important of all, being allowed to perform magic at will.
He had learned over dinner that not only the Ministry turned a blind eye to any underage magic performed in the vicinity of a fully-grown wizard or witch regardless of whether they were their guardians or not, but also that the Mulcibers in particular —unlike other wizarding families—, saw absolutely no reason to enforce the restriction during the holidays. As long as they didn't kill themselves or someone else without permission, said Mr. Mulciber, they could use as much magic as they wished.
Naturally, the first thing Severus had tried, once in the privacy of his bedroom, had been a really hard-to-aim healing spell, but as he had feared it had had little to no effect on the bloody mess that was his back. Most charms only worked on fresh and minor injuries, he knew, potions becoming necessary when the wounds were more severe or had been left to heal on their own for several days.
So here he was now, hunting for potions in a sleeping house — it should actually be called a manor, so big and opulent it was—, using magic to light his way, unlock doors and muffle his steps.
Knowing that potions laboratories usually were located in lower levels of any given building —even though it made no sense in terms of ventilation— Severus continued descending until he reached the basement, and then crept down yet another flight of narrowed stairs. He wouldn't have been able to imagine from outside that there were dungeons under this elegant house, but it didn't really surprize him. The Mulcibers were an old pureblood family, after all, and Slytherins to the core.
He was beginning to feel uneasy, though. Being caught roaming the upper floors would be one thing, he could claim to have trouble sleeping and be looking for the kitchen or the library, but down here... Severus suspected that this level must be off-limits even during the day.
His curiosity was stronger than his caution at this point, however, so he continued his unnerving exploration, peering into every room or cell he passed until he found a door he couldn't open with a simple Alohomora charm or any other standard unlocking charms he knew.
Severus stood there, thinking, trying in vain to quell his stupid recklessness. He wasn't usually like this, but clearly pain and stress had screwed up his sense of self-preservation. It was funny —and worrying— how he could be so obsessively careful in everything he did most of the time and then risk it all kissing a Mudblood or snooping around the dungeons of his wealthy host.
Shaking his head at his own foolhardiness, he raised his wand one more time and whispered another unlocking charm, one much more complex and powerful that he had only read about until this moment.
The door clicked open.
Thrilled with his success, and dearly hoping that he would be able to re-lock it afterwards, Severus pushed the door and slipped inside the room. Torches lit themselves along the walls the moment his entire body had crossed the doorway, revealing a scene that would haunt his nightmares for weeks to come.
Hanging in the middle of the room —which should definitely be called a torture chamber— there was a naked woman. Black chains connected to the roof and fettered around her wrists held her upright, preventing her limp body to slump to the ground. Her head hung down over her chest, tangled bunches of curly brown hair falling forward and partially covering a freckled face.
Severus' eyes travelled down her body, involuntarily lingering on her breasts and on the hairy spot between her legs —it was the first time he saw a naked woman in person—, noticing the bruises, lacerations, burned flesh, even what seemed to be bite marks on her inner thighs. Pulled by some morbid fascination, he quietly circled the girl, swallowing at the sight of angry gashes covering her back and yet more bite marks adorning her round butt-cheeks.
Something fluttered inside his chest, an urge to free the girl and somehow alleviate her pain suddenly overwhelming him, and he glanced desperately around while he went over different charms in his mind that might serve to break or loosen chains. Spotting a promising cabinet on the other side of the room, he rushed to it even though on some level he knew that he couldn't afford to do anything to help.
As he had guessed, it was a medicinal cabinet, fully stocked with all sorts of healing potions and salves that were probably used to heal the victims between sessions of torture so they wouldn't die too quickly. Severus wondered why the girl had been left in such a state, and panicked when it occurred to him that Mr. Mulciber might come back at any moment.
"Snape?" rasped a very weak voice behind him.
Heart pounding wildly, he turned around to face the girl, who had awoken and seemed to be making an inhuman effort to hold her head upright. His stomach churned when he recognized her.
"Please... help... me..." she begged.
Severus stood rooted to the floor. He remembered the girl from Hogwarts, although he was surprized that she remembered him given that they were in different Houses and he was several years younger. She had been the Head Girl during his fourth year, and had been often talked about in Slytherin due to the fact that she was a Mudblood.
"Please..." she rasped again, her bright eyes imploring.
"I can't," he said, hearing his voice as if it belonged to someone else.
Tears began to fall down her face.
"You were... friends... with a Muggle... born," she whispered. "I... remember. Please."
Severus felt as if every organ inside him was being wrenched and torn. Images of Lily hanging naked by her wrists, savagely beaten and bitten by some sadistic beast, flashed through his mind making him feel sick and deathly afraid.
It could be her.
If Lily were in this position, he would want someone to help her.
He couldn't do anything for this girl without messing things up for himself, though. He would be in enough trouble if Mr. Mulciber found out that Severus had been here; if he helped the girl escape, giving her the chance to testify against the Mulcibers... that would mean a sure death for him.
And if Severus was dead, he would not be able to help Lily if she ever found herself in a similar position.
"I can't," he said again, turning his back on her.
His hands trembled as he began going through the potions in the cabinet, quickly locating what he needed to heal his own wounds. There were multiple bottles of Essence of Dittany mixed amongst other substances, most of them half-full and some looking as if they had been forgotten at the bottom of that cabinet for years, so just as Severus had assumed Mr. Mulciber would not even notice that something was missing.
"Please..." begged the Mudblood again, her voice breaking. "At least... tell someone... Dumbledore... anyone... Please..."
Severus pocketed two more phials containing anti-inflammatory and anti-infective potions respectively and leaned his forehead against the edge of the cabinet, his hands covering his ears in an attempt to block out the sound of her desperation.
He was terrified. Mr. Mulciber could show up at any moment, and even if Severus managed to get away unnoticed the girl could still talk. What if she told her captor that he had been here stealing potions? What if she prattled about Severus being friends with a Mudblood during her torture sessions? It wasn't as if she had anything to lose, and in her place Severus would certainly try to use his last breath to get the bastard who had refused to help him in trouble. It would be ideal to obliviate the girl, but with only theoretical knowledge of memory charms he might easily fry her brain and still fail to wipe any recollections of him. Killing her would be safer than that, and more merciful than just leaving her hanging there...
His eyes snapped open.
There were a lot of potions here, and seeing as this was a torture chamber there were bound to be poisons too.
Severus looked around, tried a few more cupboards and drawers, until he found a small wooden chest under a bloodstained table that contained, indeed, a wide collection of poisons. Not all of them were lethal, he noticed as he read the labels, and most of the lethal ones would exhibit too obvious symptoms of poisoning, but there was at least one viable option.
Wondering why a man who clearly enjoyed inflicting as much pain as possible would have such gentle poison at hand, Severus picked up the phial and examined it thoughtfully for a long minute.
Poisoning the girl would be risky. Despite his previous considerations, it might be safer to try obliviation. But the idea of giving her a merciful death had taken hold of Severus. It wasn't the help she desperately asked for, but it was a rescue of sorts.
Finally making up his mind, Severus took a deep breath and approached the naked girl. She raised her head again and fixed her tearful eyes on him.
"Please..." she implored once more.
"I can't help you out of here," he told her. "I'm sorry, but I can't. I can't tell anyone either."
She began crying silently again.
"I can put an end to the pain, though," he whispered. "I can... make sure you don't suffer any longer."
"Yes, please... I can't take... any more. Please..."
Severus looked her straight in the eye.
"Would you rather die?" he asked seriously. "That's what I can do for you. I can help you die."
The former Head Girl held his gaze for a long moment, and Severus knew in that instant that he would never forget her eyes.
"Yes," she said at last. "Please. Help me... die."
Severus swallowed and nodded slowly. He uncorked the phial and, after searching her eyes to ascertain she was sure of this, instructed her to open her mouth and stick out her tongue.
"Thank you," she said as solemnly as a person in her position could manage.
"I'm sorry," he whispered as he let three drops of poison trickle on her cracked tongue.
Severus knew that he should go. He had already been out of bed for too long, and he really shouldn't risk being found here around the time of the girl's death. He wasn't particularly interested in watching her die, either.
But he just couldn't leave her to die alone.
So while he waited for the poison to kick in, Severus carefully cleaned up everything he had touched and then sat in a corner to wait for her death.
And while he waited, he vowed to himself that he would never allow Lily to end up like this. He would do everything he could to keep her safe, and to ensure that if despite his efforts she ever went missing, at least he would know where to look for her and would have enough power to break her free and kill anyone who had dared touching her.
For that, he needed to become a Death Eater, he determined as he watched the girl beginning to convulse.