"NO!" shouted Voldemort. "Crucio!"
Pain ran through her body, but Silwen scarcely noticed. Gone. He was gone. Dead. Because of her. Dead. Never again would he have private breakfasts with her. Never again would his lips berate her, would his fingers teach her a spell. Dead.
"Wake up, Uncle Snape. Wake up," she pleaded.
"He's dead," snarled Voldemort, dropping the curse.
Kicking her lividly to the side, he stepped into the hallway and called for Bellatrix.
"Take the brat back into her room! Tie her up and leave her there. You are forbidden from punishing her!" hissed the Dark Lord. His eyes narrowed into slits thinner than parchment.
"Yes, my lord," said Bellatrix, dragging Silwen behind her.
"I will deal with the vampire, then with Silwen. She is mine."
"Yes, my lord," Bellatrix whispered a second time, fearing the anger on her master's face. Never before had he been so furious. Even after the Ministry fiasco.
...
"Incarcerous," muttered Bellatrix when they reached the room moments later.
Barely conscious, Silwen moaned when excruciatingly tight cords wrapped themselves around her, hardly allowing her to breathe. Thump, she went as she fell onto the bed.
"Send my regards to your uncle after the Dark Lord deals with you," sneered Bellatrix before she slammed the door shut, leaving Silwen alone.
Faintly, Silwen smiled. The Elder Wand was broken, its power vanquished.
But her uncle was dead. Despite her promise being kept, despite her handing over the wand, her uncle had died. A small voice inside her whispered, "It's not fair." Before, injustice was a detention from an irate McGonagall, or rebuke from Slughorn when he drank too many glasses of sherry the night before class. Not the loss of family.
Tears pricking her eyes, she thought of Potter. Her empathy for him grew as she thought about how he, too, had no one else anymore. At least I still have Lucie and Draco, she thought. They are...all I have left.
Thinking of this got her nowhere. She might as well do something productive while waiting, like practicing occlumency.
"Uncle would have wanted me to," she whispered, many more tears kissing her cheeks, trying to console her. In minutes, all thoughts, all emotions faded into nonexistence. Through occlumency, Silwen's grief evaporated; through practicing occlumency, she was able to cope.
Click. The door opened and the Dark Lord stepped inside.
"Crucio."
Writhing, Silwen screamed through the cords around her mouth until Voldemort lifted the curse.
"Little Slytherin, you have angered me again. From now on, you will receive a dose a day of the Cruciatus Curse," he whispered, approaching the bedside with maliciously gleeful eyes.
He had contained his fury now and even seemed...happy. If that was possible.
Shuddering, she closed her eyes and waited for more punishment to fall.
"Draco has been brought here," he gloated, sitting down and methodically yanking her hair out of the cords. Flicking his wand, he removed the cords around her, yet leaving them on her feet and hands.
"Why?"
"To make sure you don't try anything again," he murmured, stroking her dress back into place, smirking at Silwen's frightened tremors and eyes shut tighter than a Gringotts vault.
An odd volt of anger shot through her.
"There is nothing more I can do for you! The Elder Wand is ruined! Draco has no further use for you as I have none!" she spat, her furious eyes flashing open.
Slap! Her cheek stung, blood threatening to appear.
"It is always useful to have another set of hands ready to do your bidding," hissed Voldemort, his anger flaring.
Just as rapidly as it had appeared, the anger fled from her and she regained her terror. Trying to get her hair out of his fingers, Silwen hid her head away from him. Seeing this, Voldemort's hand forced her face to face him, cupping her chin in both of his hands.
"What m-more do you want from me?"
"Promise to become my shadow, little Slytherin, to do my every bidding, to stand by my side for as long as you or I live."
Under the awful eyes looked at her like she was his most precious possession, she desperately fought to escape despite her hands and feet being bound. In response, he held her face even tighter in his hands, and and yanked her entire body up into a sitting position, listening to her moan with satisfied sadism.
"G-give me ten m-minutes to consider. T-ten minutes without any cords around me," whispered, hardly audible.
Leaning close to her ear, he breathed, not letting go, "Very well, little Snape."
She tensed up, muscles wound more tightly than the cords.
Letting go of her, he took the cords off, and strode out of the room.
Her fingers fumbling, they dug inside her pockets until she felt the note from her uncle. Upon seeing the slashed hand-writing of her uncle, new tears protruded out of her eyes, but Silwen immediately wiped them away, eyes scrutinizing Uncle Severus' last words.
"Get Lucie to take you as close as she can to Potter's camp. Use your Patronus to guide Potter to the little lake you will see. Nothing, I repeat, nothing is more crucial than this. Not me, not Draco, not Lucie."
How did Uncle know where Potter was, she wondered. Then remembering Voldemort waiting outside, she quickly decided her plan of action. And as if on cue, Voldemort entered the room again.
"I had forgotten to give you your memories back," he said, holding a vial in his vile hands. He approached her, and dropped it in her lap.
Narrowing her eyes, she looked at him, suspicious.
"Under what price? And what about Draco and his memories?"
Voldemort smiled, his line of lips cracking over his teeth.
"Exchange your freedom for your memories and my promise to leave Draco and his memories alone."
Almost, she agreed but caught herself just in time. She couldn't exchange her freedom for memories. Not yet. Her uncle's dying wish had to be finished first. Perhaps, somewhere, she'd forgive herself for what she was about to do.
"Give me a day to go wherever I please, completely alone and unfollowed, unspied upon. Let me have this, and I will become your possession until either you or I die," she whispered, her voice breaking.
"What would you do in a day?" hissed Voldemort, standing in front of her.
Looking into her hands, she said, "Fulfill my uncle's dying wish."
Smirking, Voldemort let the answer slide. He'd drag more specific answers of her when she returned.
"Very well."
Silwen nodded, her chest sagging in relief.
"I promise to return after tomorrow."
"I will be waiting, little Snape," he hissed, noticing her flinch at her new pet name. With that, he turned around and seemed to disappear into the door.
She could leave! One day of freedom, one day of bliss, of peace and quiet without fear. Quickly, she left the room. In front of the door, Narcissa met her.
"Take this. There's around fifty galleons inside. Later, if we live through this, you can repay me," she said in an undertone, smuggling a small but hefty leather pouch into her hands.
Catching Narcissa by surprise, Silwen hugged her warmly, a small slip of parchment falling out of her pocket onto the ground, unnoticed.
"Thank you, Narcissa. For everything."
Narcissa nodded then stood in silence with Silwen for a few seconds.
"Enjoy yourself," Narcissa said, as Silwen stepped outside, breathing in the bittersweet smell of bargained freedom.
Her feet springing upwards, she skipped down the pathway and outside the gate.
"Lucie, come please." Disliking the fact that she had to order Lucie to come, she waited for the crack of her elf, signaling Lucie's arrival.
"Mistress! You called?"
Silwen grinned at the sight of her elf and nodded.
"Please, take me to where Harry Potter is, but far enough that he and whoever is with him won't know we are there, but close enough so that I can guide him to the pond with my patronus."
"Of course Mistress," replied Lucie, taking Silwen's hand in hers, smiling even wider then Silwen.