AN: Sorry for being so late with updating. My internet connection hasn't been doing that great but I'm at my parents place soon and then it should be fine. At that time I'll also answer to all the questions you've asked in your wonderful reviews.
.oOo.
When Snape got out of bed the next morning his blood-pressure was at about the same level as his ankles. The world blacked out for several seconds and he nearly fell over as the floor tottered beneath his feet. Grabbing his bedpost and bending over to get more blood to the brain he muttered some words that would have got any of the students a week worth of detention with Filch.
The blood-replenishing potion was out of the question for another, he looked at the clock, four hours and forty-five minutes, in ten he would have the first-year Huffelpuffs and Ravenclaws. It looked like there would be an unannounced test the first lesson today, he sure wouldn't be up for the act of anything more demanding.
The lesson went past slowly and Snape carefully made sure he didn't give away the fact that he nearly fainted when he stood up to hand out the tests. Unwilling to risk anything he opted to collect the papers with a flick of his wand at the end of class.
It wouldn't be until the end of lunch before the last remnants of the calming draught was gone from his system, even if the actual effect had worn off while Severus was asleep. For once luck was on his side though and it was Thursday which meant that he would have no more lessons before then. Unfortunately all teachers were required to attend lunch with the rest of the school's population.
Walking steadily and with the usual flare of his robes all the way up to the Great Hall proved to be quite a challenge even after the added hours of rest but Severus pulled it of. For as long as he could remember he had never been the kind to show others when he was hurt or injured and that skill had been honed to perfection during the years as a Death Eater. There was no slumped shoulders, hanging head or dragged feet to give away how he really felt.
No one noticed anything different with the potions master as they ate their lunch. He seemed to be in a terrible mood but that was how it was supposed to be. Only Lupin was throwing Snape thoughtful looks, obviously suspecting he was faking it, but Severus just glared at the man until he looked away.
When the required thirteen hours had passed Severus could finally take the eagerly awaited potion. He could feel the world coming back into focus and the limpness in his limbs ran away like rain on the top of a mountain. He made a decision not to take a healing potion for the foot, making sure that his body remembered how to heal itself could be useful one of these days.
.oOo.
Silently cursing himself for being stupid enough to hand out those tests the previous day Snape threw a disgusted look at the enormous pile of papers yet to be scrutinised. In between nearly fainting yesterday and spending all of his free time today correcting tests he hadn't even found the opportunity to hurt the werewolf deep enough that he wouldn't return.
His work were rudely interrupted when his left forearm unexpectedly caught fire. Cursing aloud this time he went to gather some potions, his mask and his Death Eater robes. Usually there were far longer between the calls than this. Usually he would be granted about a two weeks respite before being forced in to that hell again. But not this time, and that left him feeling rather worried.
It was still early in the evening but with some use of his well practised discretion he made it to the apparation point if not unseen than at least unnoticed. Changing into his slightly more sinister Death Eather outfit he grabbed his left arm and apparated.
The Severus Snape that appeared at Lord Voldemort´s side merely seconds later was not the same man that had entered the clearing in the woods. During those few seconds he had allowed himself to sink into full Death Eater mood, void of all feelings except a burning hatred, ready to face what the night had to offer.
Discreetly scanning his surroundings behind his mask Snape found no clues as to what was about to happen, everyone else seemed to be as much in the dark as he was, both metaphorically and literally. They were in some far-off part of the country standing in the middle of what he assumed to be a field lit with torches, a rather odd place compared to the hid away clearings or houses that were more commonly used.
"Tonight" his master spoke, interrupting Severus musings "are an occasion of great joy. Tonight I will initiate ten young warriors who wish to join in our fight for a better, stronger and more pure society."
The gathered circle consisting of – as of the last time Snape had counted – 32 men and women cheered at the prospect of such a grand enlargement. The face of their leader wore an expression that held most resemblance to the feral grin of a angered canine, raising a pale, slender hand he called for their silence.
"Let the games begin" he stated, the smile still graced his lips but his red eyes were as chilly as the arctic winter.
One by one the new additions to the group were brought by portkey into the middle of the circle, and for each of them the Dark Lord brought out a muggle. There were old and young ones, even children, men and women, and their screams filled the silent country side air, their blood covering the frozen ground with sheets of steaming red.
When the aspirants had caused damage enough for the snakelike beast in their midst to be content he would tell them to kill their victims and he gave them the mark. Burning it black into their left forearm for the infinite future he watched them fight the immense pain, daring anyone to scream.
Then somewhere around the middle of the incoming stream of recruits the pattern broke, a girl in her twentieth refused to scream, and her torturer was obviously becoming increasingly nervous. Having watched the imbecile try every trick he knew twice Voldemort got sick of seeing him fail. Hissing out a Crucio he directed it not at the muggle but at the incompetent wizard, and the man only manage to hold his own screams back for a seconds.
"Now that's what I want to hear from the muggle" he said after letting up on the curse. "Allow me to give you an example, lets see. Severus, do you have anything entertaining to share with us?" He turned toward his potions master.
"Always My Lord" Snape replied humbly, stepping forward. "To whom do My Lord wish me to administer it?"
"Ah, let us start with the muggle. Show that good-for-nothing follower of mine what is for him to expect."
Severus stepped up to the woman who were lying on the blood-stained ground, he kicked her onto her back before bending down. She looked worse for wear and her dark hair was matted with blood, but her eyes were glaring defiantly at the man next to her.
Without hesitating for a second Snape forced her jaws open and poured a thick yellow liquid in her mouth, forcing her to swallow it. Merely seconds later she began to scream.
"Now that's one I haven't seen for quiet some time" He-who-almost-no-one-dared-to-name was clearly amused by the choice.
Bowing to his master Snape went back to his spot in the circle. The potion he had given to the girl was one of the worst he had, but this was no night for half measures. While drunken it would disintegrate the mucous of her stomach making the hydrochloride acid to leak out and join her bloodstream. The potion would then keep the victim alive for the time it took for the acidic blood to completely dissolve her body. Needless to say it was a slow and extremely excruciating way to die.
After torturing the worthless man himself Voldemort finished him off with the killing curse, he was not worthy of the honour the others would receive. Sure he could occasionally overlook a mistake like that among the ranks of his army, but since this man was not yet a part of that army he wasn't pardoned.
For an example the dead body of the wizard was left laying in the middle of the circle. Seeing what had happened to their comrade all of the others that were to be initiated made sure that their pray screamed. The Dark Lord gave them all their marks, very pleased indeed to have increased his forces with nine new talents that would follow his every command.
.oOo.
Remus was once again waiting outside Snape's quarters, impatiently scanning the edges of the marauders map. The dungeons was damp and cold and every breath came out as a white cloud of frozen water. He knew he shouldn't be there, that if Snape was not injured this time he would be in for a world of trouble but he couldn't bring himself to care. Because if Snape was hurt he might need help and Remus couldn't turn a blind eye to that, no matter how he tried.
It was no longer than two days ago that he had last sat in the same spot, waiting for the same man to show. The picture of his colleague digging around in his own foot was still on display on the back of Remus' eyelids and he couldn't get it to go away. There hadn't been a single sign of pain from the other man yet Remus was sure he hadn't been on any painkillers, if he had there would have been no tensing and ragged intake of air as he poured antiseptics in the wound. Had it been anyone one else who had done that they would have screamed their head off but not Severus, what didn't that insinuate?
When the dot finally appeared on the map Remus was relieved to see that it was moving at normal speed. He figured that would probably rule any serious injury out, at least of the physical kind he added as a fleeting image of a shivering man passed his eyes.
A split second after Snape turned the corner Remus was already having second thoughts about the whole venture. After another second he realised that he really shouldn't have been there at all. The man that stalked towards him seemed mighty furious at finding him there and not in the tiniest bit injured.
Remus didn't even find the time to draw more than a shallow breath before Snape whipped out his wand and threw him into the wall. Pain flared through his back and head and he couldn't help a small gasp from pain and surprise as he struggled fiercely against the force that was pinning him to the wall. This was not looking very good.
"I believe I made it pretty clear just two days ago that you are not welcome here" Snape hissed and flickered his wand so that Remus smashed into the wall once again.
"You should consider yourself extremely lucky that we are after all at Hogwarts or I would have cast the Cruciatus on you a long time ago, and do trust me, I'm rather good at that particular curse." Remus couldn't believe Snape said that, couldn't believe he had just threatened to use an unforgivable on him. Anger flared through his vein and before he could stop himself he had already retorted.
"Well, I'm horribly sorry for wanting to know that you would after all live through the night" he threw at the man.
"Trying to be the hero of the day are we now?" Snape sneered. "Let me make something perfectly clear to you: I" he spitted out slamming Remus into the wall "Am" once more into the wall "Able" yet again "To. Take. Care. Of. My. Self. Thank. You."
At the end of the sentence Remus' body felt like he had been hit by a train and his vision was swimming dizzyingly. He was scared as well, really scared, because never in all their years had he seen Snape loose control like this. No matter how mean, or even outright evil, tones the man used to take Remus had never seen him like this. Never seen the parts of his classmate and colleague that didn't hesitate to slam someone into a wall repeatedly and who could kill you without batting an eyelash.
Remus opened his mouth to say something, to make him see reason, but he was cut of before he could begin.
"Now you think really hard about what you were about to say. And please, do keep in mind that should I, for example, by accident put the aconite in just a second to late making next months potion for you, you will be in more pain during the transformation then you ever thought possible."
The thought of Snape deliberately making mistakes with his Wolfsbane potion made Remus' stomach flip anxiously. He sure knew enough about his craft to be able to place Remus inches from going insane with pain without allowing him to become a full fledged werewolf. Giving it another thought he realised that at the moment Snape probably wouldn't even care to keep him sane, nor alive for that matters.
Against those odds Remus chose to keep his mouth shut, not wanting to risk making things worse than they already were. Snape seemed to understand that he wouldn't say anything so he continued.
"It's my strongest advise that you don't come back here, ever again. Understood?" Remus just nodded, not trusting his voice not to shiver.
Snape turned around allowing his robes to swirl in his characteristic way and stalked through his door. When he slammed it shut the force that kept Remus against the wall faded away and he sagged to the floor. His entire body hurt profusely.
He took a few deep breaths as he tried to understand what just happened, why Snape reacted so violently. Not getting anywhere with that he drew himself upright and started making his way back to his rooms, head pounding with every single step.
.oOo.
In the beginning Dumbledore had wanted to get the information from his spy in person each and every time. Severus however had quickly shot down that idea with the reasonable logic that it wouldn't be wise for them to meet in the direct vicinity of the Dark Lord's gatherings. There were never any guaranties that their meetings would pass undiscovered and it wouldn't look good to the Dark Lord who still believed that Severus was his spy.
Instead they had developed a system where they each had a perfectly innocent-looking compartment in their desk drawers. Any document laid within said compartment would be instantly copied to appear in it's corresponding half, thus making reports easily delivered in a relatively safe way. This system also had the advantage that Severus didn't have to meet anyone on the night of a meeting, not that he told Dumbledore about that reason.
At the night of the initiations of the nine new Death Eaters Snape wrote a brief but detailed report to Dumbledore, including everything he could come up with that could help identify their new enemies. The wall of hatred that kept the nights events from fully reaching his conscious mind was still firm in place, allowing him to fulfil his duties towards the order. The headmaster needed to know this immediately and could not be neglected for something as insignificant as emotions.
When Snape closed the drawer to send the document he no longer had any obligations left, and as the urgent need for it disappeared so did the spiteful feelings themselves. He could feel them leaking out of his pores like a black foul smelling potion and no matter how hard he tried to cling to them his efforts was in vain, they always were.
As the anger and hatred ebbed away their previous territories became the habitat of an altogether different set of emotions. Agony and terror slipped in with every breath and Severus could feel the bile rising in his throat as the events of the night finally caught up with him.
Running to the bathroom the potions master sunk to the floor in front of the toilet and threw up violently, the smell of stomach acid sharp in the air as he had emptied his stomach but kept dry-heaving. When it finally stopped he lowered his forehead to rest on the cool and soothing porcelain seat closing his eyes.
Severus couldn't believe what he had just done. How he had kept banging Lupin into the wall and more importantly how he had let his dangerous side loose in the school. He could have hurt, or even killed, someone tonight. The only thing that had kept him from crucioing Lupin had been self-preservation. Merlin knows he had wanted to do it, wanted to hear Lupin scream until his voice broke and then stop just inches away from insanity only to be able to do it again.
He violently wretched his thoughts away from that direction, to afraid of where it might lead do dare to venture down that road. Instead Severus ended up once again staring into defiant brown eyes, force-feeding the girl a potion he would prefer to forget.
The potions had been one of his own inventions, and once it had made him incredibly proud of himself. He had created something that caused endless pain and irrevocable damage, even if you administered the antidote before the victim died. Since the day he had laid himself at the feet of a certain old headmaster Severus hadn't used this potion once, not until today.
Having to cause a great deal of pain had been inescapable tonight but Snape had killed her and that wasn't. She would only have died by the hands of someone else, that's for sure, but at least then it wouldn't be more blood on his.
The last thought made Snape open his eyes, needing to know whether his hand were really covered in the vital crimson liquid. At first sight they were, the blood old, brown and scaly in some places and deep red in other, drops forming and falling to the floor. He closed his eyes again and felt his stomach turn.
After several deep breaths Severus dared another look and found his hands back to normal, the slender fingers covered in nothing but skin. The acidic smell from the toilet was doing nothing to help the nausea so he flushed it down and turned around to lean against the wall.
Since the back of his eyelids showed nothing but horrors Snape kept his eyes open, staring at the stone tiles in front of him. It wouldn't stop the memories though, and they passed through his head like a slideshow from hell.
The first time he had ever used that potion he had been seventeen and had only been a Death Eater for two months. He had just discovered it and found it hilarious to watch the destruction he was able to create. The feeling of power had been intoxicating and he remembered his pride as the Dark Lord had congratulated him for having created something like that. Now almost twenty years later he wanted to throw up again just from the memory, but his stomach was as empty as it could be.
There was no chance of escaping the monstrosities of the makeshift cinema but Severus remained stoic. He forced his body not to tremble and fought down the impulses to shake his head and to beg and scream. Instead he put up a blank mask and made sure that if he couldn't feel composed on the inside then he could at least look it on the outside, it was the only thing that gave him some sense of control.
The method worked for a while until he felt his heart rushing for no apparent reason breaking the pattern. He tried to take calm deep breaths but his throat constricted making him gasp for oxygen like an fish out of the water. Agony and something akin to panic coursed through Severus' veins and he figured that this was it, he would die from suffocation right there on his bathroom floor. In the end he realised he didn't care all that much, finding it nice to finally be done with it.
It could have been minutes and it could have been hours that Severus sat there, watching his most horrible crimes and fighting for every molecule of oxygen that passed through his system, but in the end it eased up and he could breath again. A part of him was disappointed that he made it but he knew that he was still needed, that he still had things to atone for. In the end he fell asleep only to be woken a few minutes later from his own screaming. When his alarm went of at seven thirty Severus figured he couldn't have slept more than an hour and he felt like hell.
.oOo.
TBC
