Chapter 34

Behind the Door

August 31, 1997

I had to go back to Diagon Alley the first thing in the morning to see if all me purchases that I had abandoned the night before were still where I had left them. And thank goodness they were, because Severus was already in a bad mood (worse than usual) from his attack last night and I did not want to have to ask him for more money.

Although, I was surprised to find that his anger was not directed at me. He did seem especial bitter and he seemed to be a bit more forceful in all his actions, he was quite civil to me, well as civil as Severus Snape was capable of being, as long as I did not bring up last night.

When I came downstairs I found him in the kitchen mixing together a thick, puke-green color potion. When I asked him what it was, he scowled and told me it was not my concern, but throughout the morning and afternoon I saw him taking it in little eggcups portions as if they were tequila shots. I figured the potion was to help with pain and since he seemed so keen on leaving me in the dark, I did not press him. I did, however, question him about how he was feeling several times, and when I did this he would either just grimace in the opposite direction or just ignore me all together, so I rightfully dropped it.

The cuts on his face were hardly visible now, just thin little scratches, nobody would even think to question about them.

I finished packing my trunk for Hogwarts. It did not take long because I had been almost done for days, but when the last sock was put away and the last book stuffed inside, I decided to go downstairs and force my company on Severus.

I found him in his armchair reading a book. I could just make out the faded title on the cover, Death and Dark Magic By: Joseph Fanghorn.

Severus did not look up even though I was sure he knew I was there.

"That book looks very uplifting," I said sarcastically.

He glanced up at me for a moment then went back to his reading.

"What is it about?" I asked, knowing very well that he wanted to be left alone.

"It is informative," he said not looking up at me; he turned the page. "I am learning."

"Do you ever read fiction?" I asked, smiling to myself, knowing that I was getting on his nerves.

"No," Severus said shortly.

"Really, you never read any fiction?" I questioned him.

He turned to the next page.

"No Mark Twain or Jane Austen?"

"I have no idea who those people are," said Severus simply.

"I guess they are famous muggle authors, not wizarding authors, but your father was a muggle," I pointed out.

"Tobias drank, he did not read," Severus said with crude casualness.

"Oh," I said awkwardly.

"Do you mind?" Severus said, looking at me over his book at last.

"Sorry, I don't mind," I said, "I will be quiet."

He gave me a final stern look then went back to Death and Dark Magic.

I went and sat on the worn sofa and listened to Severus turn the page of his book.

After what seemed lifetimes, but was really only like five minutes, I let out a sigh of boredom, and then quickly looked at Severus to see if he had noticed. If he did he ignored me and just turned another page.

I sighed again.

He turned the next page a little more forcefully.

I smiled.

"Severus?"

"What?" he asked in a slow, murderous hiss.

I let out a small giggle. "Do you mind if I pick out a book to read?"

"No," he said irritably.

I stood and began perusing Severus's private library. There were hundreds of books, all seemed to be informational, and most seemed to be about the Dark Arts. Suddenly my eye caught a small, black leather-bound book that didn't belong with the others. It was tucked away on the bottom shelf and very corner of one of the bookcases. I bent down and pulled it out. It was a story I was very familiar with and by an author I knew very well.

"Severus?"

"What could you possibly want now?" he said exasperatedly, slamming his book down on the side table.

I smiled at him. "I was just wondering if you have read all the books in here."

Severus crossed his arms and leaned back in the chair, rolling his eyes profusely.

"Yes," he said with pure annoyance.

"Really," I asked with mild disbelief, "every one of these books?"

"Yes," Severus answered again, in the same tone of annoyance, but this time I sensed a note of suspicion in his voice. "I have read every book in this my collection, at least once." He paused to glare at me as I let out a small giggle. "Normally I am a rather quick reader, when there is no one around to distract me," he added pointedly, but I could tell he was not really angry.

I laughed again.

"What is it?" he asked with bitter frustration.

"How many times have you read this book," I said, holding out the small, black, leather-bound copy of Romeo and Juliet, by William Shakespeare.

He scowled at me and I laughed at him openly.

"Well?" I asked teasingly.

Suddenly I dropped the book; my left arm began to burn, saving Severus from having to answer.

"Come on," he told me seriously as he stood.

I nodded gravely, knowing that fun time was long gone.

Severus disapparated and I followed suit.

The sky above Malfoy Manor was a dark grey. The clouds threatened a rain storm although the air was quite dry.

Severus knocked hard on the front door.

I suddenly heard a roar of thunder and soon the sky was lit with a stream of dancing lightning.

As the door of the manor swung open I was greeted with the intense feeling of wanting to gag, for the air suddenly filled with the distinctive taste of sweat, dirt and blood. Then Fenrir Greyback stood in the doorway, blocking our path.

"Show your arm," he spat, his eyes cast down timidly in the presence of Severus.

"Why?" Severus jeered at the werewolf.

"New precaution," said Greyback, scowling at the ground. "The Dark Lord doesn't want any imposters around."

"Why should you check our arms when dark marks are need to apparate within one hundred yards of this manor house?" Severus stared jeeringly at the werewolf. "You would know all about that, wouldn't you Greyback?"

"Look!" said Greyback finally meeting Severus's eyes angrily, obviously very insecure about not having a dark mark of his own. Once again I felt that strange sense of pity for the werewolf, I kind of wished I could have given him my dark mark, for I sure did not want it. "I am just following orders, SO SHOW ME YOUR DAMN ARM!"

Thunder snarled in the background and another flash of lightning came.

Severus rolled his eyes, but never the less pulled up his sleeve revealing the menacing burn that writhed, inky black on his left arm, signaling the summons of Lord Voldemort.

Greyback let Severus pass grudgingly.

Next, I stepped up to the werewolf too. He bared his nasty, throat-tearing teeth at me, in a slight grin. Then I exposed my left arm to him; I looked away for I did not like to look at it.

I heard Greyback take deep breathes in as I walked by, sucking my scent from the air.

I walked with Severus along the hall to the room where meeting usually took place.

I wondered if it would be possible for me to see Draco after the conference was over. Tomorrow we would be going back to Hogwarts and we would have to go back to hating each other again. So I was hoping to get in one last moment with him to last me at most until Christmas Holiday. Oh man, that would be a long time!

Then again, maybe it would not be wise to pursue anything with Draco at the moment, especial after Severus and I had just gotten back on somewhat good terms. I didn't think Severus would be thrilled about me running off with Draco the night before we leave for Hogwarts or at any other time either.

Perhaps an appropriate moment would reveal itself for Draco and me to sneak upstairs together. I could only hope.

I followed Severus into the room with the long table that was already packed with Deatheaters. I took my seat at the far end, away from the head. I was greeted politely by many of the low rank, yet aspiring villainous achievers at the end of the table with me. There was a fair deal of chatter coming from up and down the room, suddenly, like a wave over the long table the talking stopped starting at the head.

Lord Voldemort had just burst into the room for a side door, in which he sometimes invited his favorite deatheater after meetings to have secret conversation with them one on one. Usually it is Severus who was granted this most high horror, but sometime Bellatrix or Yaxley.

The Dark Lord took his seat at the head of the table, his gigantic pet Snake wound around his neck like a huge scaly scarf.

You would think that deatheater meetings would be a little more interesting than this, but really they become pretty redundant after a while. Every meeting was exactly the same; the deatheaters start by stating whom they have most recently killed and what advantages that particular murder gives Voldemort. It seems kind of cold-hearted of me to bring up murder so simply but when it is spoken of so often the concept loses its true meaning and the victims just became a bunch of nameless faces and to tell the truth I preferred it that way. Then the Dark Lord talks about wizarding power and how we should come out of hiding and enslave muggles and mudbloods and all the deatheater around me listen eagerly as if they hadn't heard the same speech a billion times. Then we discuss plans to do in Harry Potter for the rest of the conference. If you really think about it, being a deatheater is rather pathetic.

This particular meeting ended like all the rest of them did. The Dark Lord stood and so did we; he turned and began to walk to the door in which he entered from. The deatheater's began to disperse. My eyes found Draco moving towards the exit at a swift pace as it was his routine to make a quick escape after the meetings. I was about to follow him when I heard a slow venomous hiss call out my name from the other side of the room.

Suddenly all the comfort of routine was gone. I took a deep breath and turned around slowly.

"Alexandra Snape," hissed Lord Voldemort again, resting his white, long-fingered hand on the silver knob of the door.

I forced a smile on my face.

"Yes, My Lord." I said trying my very best to sound delighted.

"Come here," he whispered sickeningly.

I began to cross the room; I could feel every eye on me like a weight ever slowing my pace. My gaze fell upon Severus; his eyes were blank and his expression unreadable.

I reached the door; I smiled up into Lord Voldemort's horrid face. His red eyes poured into mine and I had the sudden urge to cry out.

A hideous grin crossed his lipless mouth, pulling at the skin on his face, stretching his slit like nostrils that he had instead of a nose.

"Please come in," Voldemort said as he opened the door with a creak.

Voldemort held the door ajar for me. I peered inside; the room was horribly dark.

I gave a slight shutter as I felt Lord Voldemort's snake slither across my feet into the room first.

"What are you waiting for?" asked the Dark Lord in a slow hiss.

"Nothing," I said quickly; I entered.

Lord Voldemort followed me inside and closed the door. The darkness was so thick and I could not see anything. I turned my head in every direction, trying to figure out where the snake was, where Voldemort was. I clasped my hands over my mouth, repressing a shriek as a cold hand grabbed my shoulder. Then I heard a clicking noise as the door locked.