"So you helped Harry Potter escape. I told you, little Snape, do not try to rebel against me!" he hissed, his fury now aimed at her and her alone.
"That was before you made me promise," she snapped at the ground.
"Crucio!" he shouted.
She fell to the floor, writhing in agony. Silwen's screams matched those that Granger had made, ricocheting off the parlor's walls. Not before long, Voldemort lifted the spell and walked over to Silwen, looming over her.
"On your feet, Silwen," he said, softly taking her hands in his and helping her to her feet, mocking human charity. Once she had regained her feet, he distanced himself from her and raised his wand arm once more.
"Bring out your wand and I'll teach you a lesson you won't easily forget," came his hiss.
"I can't, my Lord," she said, looking at him as if he had just made a statement about the weather.
"What do you mean?" came his habitual hiss.
"I mean that I don't have it. I gave it to Potter," she replied, looking at him in the eye.
"So the little Snape has found a shred of bravery," he scoffed, "what else did you help Potter with besides escape?"
Straightening her shoulders, raising her head, and looking at Voldemort unflinchingly, she answered, "I helped him find Gryffindor's sword. A sword that the goblin said was a copy. As far as I know, the genuine sword is still safe in Madam Lestrange's vault. I hope he breaks into the vault and steals it. And with it, I hope he defeats you."
"You-" he snarled, slapping Silwen. She cried out and began to slip to the ground, but he caught her arm tightly, forcing her to stay on her feet. "Do not, I repeat, do not ever insult or defy me again." Suddenly, his angry expression changed. Softly, he sat down, carefully helping Silwen to sit in front of him. "Is there anything else you did to help? Why did you help Potter?"
"I gave him the memories that my uncle had prepared for Potter. I helped him because-because my uncle wished it. He knew Potter was our last hope for freedom, so when he knew he was going to die, he left me with instructions. Long live Harry Po-" Another slap interrupted her words.
"I should kill you for this!" Both of his arms gripped Silwen now, who looked at her oppressor with hatred.
"For what?" she said sardonically.
Understanding dawned upon his face. He chuckled, his cold breath sending shivers down her spine.
"That's what you want, isn't it? Death. Release." He paused for a moment, lifted one hand off her and straightened her hair, smirking when she didn't move until he saw the peace in her eyes. "Freedom," he whispered, "just like your uncle." He smiled then stood. "Don't move from this room, little Snape. I shall return in moments," he said his voice filled with something that revived Silwen's trembles and shudders.
Gradually, Silwen rose to her feet once more. Gone was the girl who was cowed by caresses, who trembled under a touch. Gone was the girl who wanted nothing more than to be left alone. In her place stood someone who had found some bravery. At least, until he returned. When he returned, she didn't know if she could be brave for much longer. Bravery was exhausting.
Swiftly, Voldemort returned, dragging a barely conscious Draco behind him. Draco's parents were nowhere to be seen. They must be under orders to stay away. Tenderly, Silwen looked at the young man in the Dark Lord's grip. Faint traces of scars still crisscrossed across his face and his limp body knelt down when the Dark Lord dropped it a few feet in front of her. Tiredly, he gazed at Silwen.
"Call your little House Elf here," he ordered silkily.
"Lucie, come."
CRACK. "M-mistress?" squeaked Lucie, afraid.
"Tell it to stand beside Draco."
"Lucie, do as he says," she whispered, her fear returning.
Hopping with raw nerves, Lucie did as she was told and stood beside Draco.
"You have a choice, Silwen," murmured Voldemort, gesturing at the elf and Draco. "I will allow one to live. Pick. You have five minutes. If you say you don't know, I will kill both of them," he said walking over to her, stopping when he stood behind her. Idly, he started to plait her hair into a flawless braid.
"STOP IT!" shouted Draco, rising to his feet. "Don't touch her!" Voldemort merely smirked at Draco's furious outburst and continued to braid her hair. Over the months, Silwen's thick, raven's wing black hair had grown, tumbling down her back, giving the Dark Lord much to play with. And Silwen let him without a sound.
"'Don't anger him," whispered Silwen, worriedly looking at the ground.
"She is mine," he hissed, his hands possessively playing with her hair.
Inconspicuously, Silwen's hand felt for the Dark Lord's pocket. He didn't seem to notice. Reaching in, she grasped something lean and wooden. Taking it out, she flung it across the room. Let him kill either of them now.
"Lucie, go! Take Draco with you to a place only you know of. Stay there until everything is finished!" she cried as Voldemort rushed to retrieve his wand.
Bam! The doors flew open to acknowledge Bellatrix standing there, scared. She knew Voldemort's fury better than most. If she caught him at the wrong time... But upon seeing another House Elf trying to escape, her own fury matched her master's. Taking from her robe a second knife, she threw it into the disapparating elf's back. Too soon. Lucie dropped dead back onto the floor, a shocked Draco at her side.
"NO! LUCIE! Lu-" Silwen was cut off when Voldemort put a hand over her screams, supporting her as she started to sink to the floor.
"Well done, Bellatrix. Perhaps I should call you 'House Elf Executioner'," said Voldemort when he had a firm grip on his captive.
Bellatrix saw the jibe, but nonetheless bowed and said reverently, "Thank you, my Lord. Angelus and other allies have arrived for an emergency meeting. They are waiting in the Dining Hall. I have served them dinner."
"Tell them I will be there soon. This little Snape hasn't learned her lesson," he murmured, gripping Silwen nearly tight enough to break her bones.
Bowing again, she left the room.
"Draco, leave us if you want to see the girl alive again. Tell your parents about the meeting."
Looking at Draco, Silwen said, through the hand on her mouth, sobbing without tears, "Take Lu-lucie o-out a-and b-bury her. Properly. For me."
It was all he could do not to run and take her out of Voldemort's grip and rush her to a bed so she recover. Her family was gone now, he realized. And here she is, wishing she was too. "I'll do it," he replied, gently picking Lucie up and cradling her.
When the two had gone, Voldemort let go. "After this meeting, you will never leave my side again, unless I give you permission. You will not speak unless spoken to in this meeting. You will stand behind my chair looking like Aphrodite, or Draco will have moments to live when the meeting is finished! Go to Narcissa's room, find something that fits, then come straight into the Dining Hall."
"Why? Why must I look like Aphrodite?" she whispered, afraid of the answer.
"Because when I trample Hogwarts, I want to offer you as a prize," he snarled, striding in the direction of the dining room as she went to Narcissa's.
On her way, Silwen tried to gather any bravery, but her small store had been depleted when she had deliberately baited Voldemort into killing her. She had almost succeeded. If only she had pushed him a little further.
Weeping, Silwen remembered Lucie's wide, large eyes looking at her in deep concern, not for Lucie's own sake but for Silwen's, moments before Lucie was murdered. Her elf had died because Silwen had been foolish enough to think that she could have saved her elf. Just like she thought she could save her uncle. But both perished. Both were...gone forever. And it was her fault. All her fault! "Draco isn't going to die because of me. I'll die first if it comes to that," she croaked.
The door was open when Silwen arrived, and lying on the bed was the dress that she had worn to meet Spike. Last she remembered, it had been torn. Now, however, it was mended perfectly and the silver thread shone softly from the hallway's light. Taking as much time as she dared, she changed into the dress, combed through her hair to tame it, shivering as she remembered the last fingers to touch it. But she let it down, out of the horrid braid. Finished, she walked to the Dining Room, hesitating to knock, her ivory hand trembling before the immense ebony door.
"Sssss," hissed something from the floor. Silwen jumped. Nagini. Somehow, Nagini leered at Silwen as the snake rose its head, almost level with Silwen's. Creaking, and breaking the trance that Nagini had lulled her into, the doors opened.