Chapter 28
Love, Trust, and Safety
(Same day)
I shut myself behind the door of the tiny room in which I slept.
I felt exhausted. The minuscule amount of sleep I had received last night was full of worry and distress. Now that I had made peace with the professor a sense of blissful relief washed over me and I collapsed onto the bed. From my lips I let out a relaxed sigh and then a wide yawn.
I closed my eyes and was about to drift off into a dreamful escape when I was forced back into reality.
The dark mark on my left arm seared.
"Get up," I had to tell myself.
I managed to bring myself to a standing position and shook my head vigorously to wake up.
I rushed downstairs to find Severus holding the rather large stack of papers we had collected last night at the ex-headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix.
He roughly handed them to me. I was suddenly weighed down with all the useless disregarded scrapes of rubbish.
"You can present these to The Dark Lord," Severus told me.
"Thank you," I said, my tone dripping with sarcasm, wondering if that was supposed to be Severus's idea of a treat.
He rolled his eyes. "Give the papers to him and you will be rewarded."
"How will I be rewarded?" I asked, remembering when I was in kindergarten and the teacher would sometimes reward us with candy for spelling our names correctly.
"The reward is," said Severus dryly, "that he will be pleased and will not decide to kill you at present." I think that Severus was trying to be funny, but I couldn't say for sure.
"What a comfort," I said my voice full of irony, wishing I would get the candy instead.
"Do as I say," Severus warned.
I nodded.
"Now we must go," said Severus. "The Dark Lord does not take kind to those who are late."
We apparated onto the familiar doorstep of Malfoy Manor. Severus knocked.
The door swung open and to my extreme displeasure, the man standing in the doorway was none other than Fenrir Greyback, large, dirty and wore a never ceasing look of greedy hunger. What was he, the one man Deatheater welcome wagon committee?
I shuttered at the sight of him as flashes of our last encounter flooded back to me.
The werewolf smiled at me hungrily, revealing every one of his sharp, yellow teeth. I took as few steps backwards. Greyback slowly approached, filling my nostrils with his distinct scent of dirt, sweat and blood, but then upon seeing Severus recoiled.
Severus took me by the arm and marched me through the door. Greyback just stood back and let us pass, not daring to touch me when I was with Severus.
Once we were away from the door and the werewolf, Severus pulled me closer to him. "He is not a true Deatheater," Severus whispered in my ear. I turned my head slightly to look at Greyback.
"I don't understand," I whispered back.
"He is a werewolf," Severus hissed. But of course, Lord Voldemort hated non-humans, half breeds, muggles and muggle-borns, so why would he approve of werewolves.
I glanced back at Greyback waiting by the door for the arrival of more of his fellows, his large stomach protruded out of his black deatheater's robes.
"Then why-"
"He is permitted to wear the robes," cut in Severus, "but he hasn't a Dark Mark upon his arm nor is he allowed to attend meetings unless The Dark Lord has a job for him to do. That is why he is always at the front door."
Severus let go of my arm.
I almost felt pity for him, an outcast, even among this lot, but then I remembered that he wanted to eat me and all sympathy was lost.
"Severus," I whispered.
"What?" he asked in an impatient hiss.
"You will never leave me alone with him, right?" I asked a little apprehensively.
Severus said that he wouldn't and I felt instantly safer.
We walked through a door off to the side, a different room than before. This room seemed to be a sort of dining hall turned conference room. There was a very long, shiny, wood table, one that would fit very nicely in a medieval castle.
Deatheaters were taking their seats around the table. Lord Voldemort sat at the head, ignoring everyone around him, his palms together and his eyes closed as if in prayer. I wondered what kinds of evil he was planning next.
I was afraid to move, worried that I might interrupt Voldemort's thoughts. Severus bravely strode over to the table and took the seat to Voldemort's right.
I made to sit beside Severus, but he gave a sharp nod towards the chair at the very end of the table, far from him but thankfully far from Lord Voldemort.
The Malfoys sat at the end of the table too. I took a spot next to Draco, who was staring at his hands in his lap. He glanced up at me as I sat, but then his gaze immediately fell downward again.
I wondered if he was remembering the agony of the Cruciatus curse. I wondered if he could still hear my voice uttering the words that had caused him so much pain.
I gave my head a little jerk, turning to physically shake the memory out of my own head. A Deatheater meeting was not the time or place to make myself sick.
Many other deatheaters joined the party. It became clear to me that they arranged themselves in order of rank. Only the most accomplished deatheaters were granted the privilege to sit beside Voldemort. Severus and a deatheater I recognized to be called Yaxley sat on either side of Voldemort, looking very tall and impressive. Many of the other deatheaters stared at Severus and Yaxley with looks of admiration, but others like Bellatrix Lestrange glared at them with envy.
Bellatrix sat next to Severus and she eyed him with hatred, for he was the wall that was separating her and her master.
Then there were those of us who sat at the end of the table, farthest from the Dark Lord. We were the ones who sat with are eyes casted down; for we had not yet proven ourselves to Voldemort or worst we had failed him.
I wondered what the Malfoys had done to deserve their seats and then I wondered what Severus had done to earn his. What had he accomplished to receive such a high honor? In my mind's eye I saw the cheerful, old face of Albus Dumbledore.
I gave my head another little jerk.
Whatever it took to get a seat beside Lord Voldemort, I hoped that was an honor that I would never receive.
"Well then," said Voldemort. His voice was less than a whisper but it cared across the long table and commanded instant silence "Let us begin."
And so the meeting began.
On one bring-your-daughter-to-work day in the fifth grade, my dad took me to the bank where he worked and I went into a meeting with him. I remember being extremely bored. My dad was an investments consultant, so as you would imagine, the conversation was less than invigorating. In a way, the dry, business-like manner in which the deatheaters conducted their meeting reminded me of the one at my dad's office, but instead of discussing investments and money, the deatheaters discussed murder and destruction.
It was terrifying how calmly they planned to kill and even more frightening how unaffected I was by the talk. In retrospect it was just as boring as the meeting at the bank.
"Severus," said the Dark Lord. "What information do you bring to me from the Order of the Phoenix?"
It was my queue. I stood and quickly walked towards Voldemort with the stack of paper from the excursion at the ex-headquarters. Every eye followed me on my long journey to the head of the table where Voldemort sat.
When I finally reached The Dark Lord I knelt and presented him with the papers, my head bowed in order not to look at him.
"My Lord," I said. "This is what we collected for you."
A white hand crossed into my line of sight and took the papers from me.
I looked up but did not stand.
"There is a map," said Severus as he bravely reached across Voldemort and pulled a ripped map out from the pile of papers. "You can see that various locations on it have been mark, these could be possible hiding places of Potter."
"Yes," hissed Voldemort, looking at the map Severus showed him.
"There are also incantations written on some of these pages." Severus pointed out the scribbled spells to Voldemort. "Many are protective spells," said Severus, "If we could better understand them we may be able to infiltrate protected locations of the Order."
I was impressed how Severus was able to make the useless pieces of crap we found sound meaningful.
"Very good, very good," said Voldemort to Severus, then he focused his attention on me, who was still knelt at the side of his chair.
He reached his spider-like, white hand to my face and cupped my chin so that I was forced to look up into his eyes.
"You have done well, Alexandra Snape," hissed The Dark Lord, squeezing my chin. His hand was so cold.
"Thank you, My Lord," I said as emotionless as possible, trying to imitate Severus's stony, calm manner.
At my words, Voldemort released my chin to take up stroking my black hair tenderly. If I was not looking into the face of The Dark Lord I would have thought it was someone else touching me.
"I hoped you would be pleased, My Lord," I whispered.
I felt hatred and jealously radiating off Bellatrix. In fact, I felt many envying eyes on me. Despite myself, I relished in the feeling of being the object of envy. I almost felt proud, but then frightened because I had discovered a joy in being a deatheater.
"You my stand," hissed The Dark Lord softly.
I did and so did he, putting an end to the meeting.
The other Deatheater's stood and broke into chatter.
"I must speak with you, Severus," said The Dark Lord to Professor Snape, "privately."
I watched as Severus followed Voldemort into the next room. I wondered what The Dark Lord wanted with Severus. As the door shut behind the two, my heart began to beat faster; I was in a room full of deatheaters and Severus was not there to protect me.
"Don't you think you are special," called a jeering voice.
Bellatrix Lestrange approached me. The room fell silent.
"No, not really," I retorted. Every eye in the room was on us now.
"You little brat," said Bellatrix her eyes burning. "Don't you dare think that because The Dark Lord was pleased that he now favors you. You who did defy him in the beginning! I see through your little act!" she paused to glare at me with her stinging, sunken eyes. I hated her with every fiber of my being, she who killed my family. "I went to Azkaban for him!" she yelled passionately, "and I would gladly do it again, all for him, all for the Dark Lord." As she finished her voice shook as if she was about to cry with passion.
"Oh," I said with mock sympathy, "you went to Azkaban for him. How very touching." At my words she pulled out her wand and I pulled out mine. "And by the way, I know I am not his favorite, Severus is." I smiled because I knew she could not deny it.
Sparks shot out of her wand and I was knocked to the ground. I swiftly got back to my feet and laughed at her. "You hate it that he prefers, Severus over you. You went to Azkaban, are you proud of that? At least Severus was not stupid enough to get caught!" I heard gasps around the room.
"Crucio," Bellatrix yelled trying to curse me. Nothing happened; she had forgotten.
I laughed again.
Suddenly an invisible knife cut across my face. Hot blood gushed down my cheek, my neck, my chest. I wobbled in my stance and soon lost my footing and fell to the ground.
Now it was her turn to laugh as she stood over me, bloody and weak.
"Are you proud of your goody cousin Severus Snape?" she asked.
I managed to say that I was.
"I killed your Father first." Bellatrix spat at me.
I was frozen, just lying on my back at her feet, listening.
"He tried to hold us off," Bellatrix told me.
Images of my father with outstretched arms flashed before me, shielding my mother and sister with his body.
Bellatrix laughed, high and cruel. "What a foolish muggle your father was, stupider than most I think," she said smiling. "So I had to teach him a lesson before he died and I made your mother watch."
I squeezed my eyes shut and bit down on my tongue until it bled, just trying to suppress my anguished cries, trying to pretend that I did not care.
"Then I killed your mother," said Bellatrix, "She pleaded and pleaded with us to let your precious baby sister go. It was very irritating so I had to silence her once and for all."
In my mind's eye I saw my mother's lifeless body fall to the ground, I could imagine the light thud it made when it hit the floor. Blood filled my mouth as I bit down harder on my tongue.
"Then there was your sister." I could almost see Sidney, scared and alone, stand amongst deatheaters and the bodies of our dead parents. "I unfortunately was not the one who had the pleasure of killing her," said Bellatrix resentfully, "although, I did get a chance to play a few games with your baby sister, but she lost."
Anger was building inside me from the start and it reached its peak and I lost control.
I swept my leg underneath her feet and she collapsed onto the ground hard. I stood with newly found energy.
I pointed my wand at Bellatrix. "Expelliarmus!" I shouted. Her wand went skidding across the floor.
She looked up at me with her wide sunken eyes and screeched with laughter. "Do you want to know who killed your baby sissy?" sang Bellatrix.
"Who?" I yelled, stabbing the air above her chest with my wand.
She began to laugh again.
"TELL ME!" I ordered.
"But did he ever tell you?" she simpered as she stood to her feet again. "Oh, no, he really should of."
My heart was beating faster and I was out of breath as if I had just run a marathon.
"Tell me," I hissed, already knowing the answer.
"Severus Snape," she whispered.
"CRUCIO!" I shouted and Bellatrix Lestrange let out a piercing scream of pain and again fell to the ground.
None of her fellow deatheaters came to her aid; they just watched as I tortured her.
I could have almost laughed; my heart was filled with the wicked desire to cause her as much pain as possible.
She writhed in front of me.
Suddenly a door slammed behind me and a shrieking cackle followed, nearly drowning out the screams of Bellatrix.
I lowered my wand, releasing Bellatrix from my curse and somewhat resentfully I turned.
The Dark Lord and Severus stood there.
Voldemort still laughed with pleasure at the scene he had just witnessed and Severus stood statue-like in Voldemort's shadow.
"Forgive me, My Lord," I said with my head bowed. "I forgot myself."
Voldemort continued to laugh. I hear Bellatrix roughly get to her feet.
"This little brat, attacked me," Bellatrix told The Dark Lord in a hoarse voice. It was like we were five and she was tattling on me for pulling her hair.
"And you her," Voldemort hissed with amusement. Voldemort came towards me and again grabbed me chin with his cold, white hand. He turned my head side to side examining the angry cut across my face. The Dark Lord ran his icy finger across my bloody wound. I winced at the pain. Then he withdrew his hand red rather than white.
Nagini, the great snake slithered up Voldemort's body and began tasting my blood off Voldemort's hand with her thin tongue.
Severus strode over to me and wordlessly brushed his wand over my cut. It suddenly felt very cold and then very hot and then nothing. I put my hand to my face and the skin was smooth again.
"My Lord," said Bellatrix as she rushed over to him, throwing herself at his feet. Her eyes were wide as she looked up at him, allowing him into her thoughts.
"I know of your suspicions, Bella," hissed The Dark Lord.
Bella looked up at him expectantly, but he denied her and walked away into the next room, an unofficial dismissal.
Severus grabbed me by the arm and turned on the spot. Seconds later we were in his sitting room.
"What the hell were you thinking?" he asked as he let go of my arm.
Up until that moment my brain had been in a stupor, dazed by my anger and revenge, but now that I was away from Bellatrix and away from Voldemort, realization hit me.
I looked into the stern face of my cousin. Images of the eight masked deatheaters in my living room resurfaced in my memory. I could see as clear as day the leading deatheater, tall, striking and an era of professionalism about him, his tone dead and emotionless. I knew Bellatrix was not lying. Something bubbled inside me, it was a familiar feeling yet I could not identify it, but whatever it was it burned and pierced my heart.
"You killed Sidney," I said in a nearly inaudible whisper.
Professor Snape's expression was unreadable, but he suddenly lost every bit of color he had in his face and in his eyes I saw emptiness as if he sunk so deeply within himself there was no chance of him ever coming back, he was an empty shell.
The unknown yet familiar feeling screamed within me, twisting my insides; the air was being squeezed out of my lungs.
I ran up the stairs without another word and hid myself in the tiny, depressing room, in which I slept.
As soon as I was in solitude I knew what I was feeling, loneliness. It was the kind of loneliness I felt after my family died, the kind or loneliness I felt after Dumbledore died. It was the severe kind of loneliness that occurs when love, trust, and safety are ripped from you, it hurts for a while and then you go numb and when you are numb you miss the pain.
This time I was prepared I would not let myself become numb, devoid of emotion or will. I would not let myself be lonely.
I spun on the spot and in a small crack I was gone from Spinner's End.