NOTE

Warning for blood and death.

86. A Slow and Painful Death

Remus released a growl so dark and guttural one would have thought he'd fully lost his human side. He tried to come to the window to see but the chains were too short. Another growl filled the room, full of frustration. But then, sensing his need, the chains lengthened and he stepped up to my side, his furious breath fogging the glass of the window. There was a moment, while his sharp wolf eyes came to the same conclusion as my own.

Without warning he loosed a deafening howl. My ears rang but I didn't cover them, too consumed by the sight on the grounds below.

Lucius struggled, his pale hair and skin caught by the diluted rays of the moon. He was covered in dark, shining blood. I could not see his face from here but was certain it was contorted in a scream of pain as the werewolf dragged him from side to side, like a dog playing with a toy.

The other werewolves had taken notice of the human prey, and their howling ceased. It seemed I was observing a strange silent play as they all converged upon him.

There was a final glimpse of his pale blond hair, and then no part of him could be seen. The werewolves surrounded him, their bodies moving with such violence that I was certain he would be dead within a minute if they kept it up.

But they did not.

A sudden bolt of magic set off a discordance of howls, the group dissolving as each wolf darted away, whimpering and cowering. I practically pressed my face to the window, not wanting but needing to see.

Lucius's body was covered by a shielding dome of thin blue magic, a sophisticated protego. Through its shimmering surface I could see how torn he was, his body made a mess by mere seconds of the werewolves' attention. Clearly he had not cast the spell himself.

My heart stuttered as, a moment later, its master appeared.

Severus strode down the hill, past the willow and towards Lucius's prone form, guarded by his own shimmering orb of light. When the werewolves smelled him and approached he kept them back with immobilising spells, cast swiftly and brutally with slashes of his black-sleeved arm. Movements as precise as a dancer's, he brought Lucius into his own bubble of safety and aimed his wand at him, dragging him across the ground on his way back up the hill.

My heart dropped and hammered against my ribs as the weight of the moment crashed down on my head. "I have to go–"

I turned from the window and rushed for the door.

Quickly, with a scraping of chains, Remus crossed the room and stepped in front of me, his body tense with adrenalin.

His amber eyes remained fixed on mine as he let out a series of whines, clearly meant to communicate that he didn't want me to leave.

My voice lifted with urgency. "Remus, I need to go."

He stood his ground with a grunt of air through his nose, his front paw brushing the stone floor.

"Remus…" Poppy said.

Pouncer meowed, and Remus looked down at the kneazle. They seemed to communicate through a series of small sounds, and then Remus looked back at me with a final whimper, conceding. He stepped aside and I lingered just long enough to crush myself against his fur in a desperate embrace before I unbolted the door and ran down the corridor.

All fires in me burning at full power, I raced around the corners until I reached the grand staircase and began the long sprint down. The stairs cooperated with me, and though my head grew dizzy from running down them as they changed I didn't slow a bit.

Past the watching portraits, past doorways, past a wandering ghost, and finally into the second floor corridor. My heart was pounding like a madman in my chest when I arrived at the marble staircase. Stifled screams echoed through the doors of the Great Hall, and the slow, deep tones of Severus's voice.

The Flumes were standing at the foot of the stairs, Mrs. Flume quite pale and covering her ears, her husband holding her shoulders with his mouth in a thin line. I almost slipped on my way down but recovered my footing and ran past them through the two oak doors. Neville and Arthur made way when they saw me, and I stepped forward to witness the scene on the flagstone floor.

Lucius's wounds were extensive, his body shaking as violently as Remus's had done in the moments before his transformation. His clothes were torn, and skin, and muscle. There was too much blood for the extent of the damage to be seen, but some of his ribs were bare, and his right cheek had been torn away, destroying the wicked fairness of his face. A pool of blood was growing outward, crawling down the shallow ditches between the flags.

And he was screaming. Or trying. Terrible high pitched gurgling, his airway obstructed by his own blood. Surely the pressure of Severus's black boot on his neck wasn't helping.

I couldn't see Severus's face but there was fury enough in his posture as he ground his heel into Lucius's Adam's apple. Lucius whimpered, writhing as he looked up at the black-haired man leaning over him from his great height.

Nobody protested.

Luna was pale but looked on almost apathetically. Arthur's face was unreadable. Neville looked green. Ginny's face was flushed with anger, shamelessly enjoying it. Madam Rosmerta's eyes were hot with dislike though her mouth was twisted with nausea. Not even Minerva advocated to help Malfoy.

My wand had been numb in my hand while I'd run down the stairs. Now it burned with such a rage that my veins were ignited and my head filled with smoke that whispered words of dire intent. It recognised the foe who had harmed me on its first night in my possession, who had kept it from coming to my aid that day in the Cairngorms.

It took all the purity left in me to clear the smoke and hold my wand back tightly; not denying it revenge, but not giving it free reign either.

Wait.

Severus was speaking, his voice very quiet but so intense his words could be heard over Lucius's panicked gargling. In it I heard his own wealth of pain; a horde to rival that of an ancient dragon.

"Why so shocked, Lucius?" The name was a dark purr on Severus's tongue and I couldn't help but shiver. "You've had this coming since you were a very young man, haven't you? I don't believe you could forget your long list of offences. No amount of your own pain could erase those. The pain you caused far, far outweighs this– little– pinprick."

With every word he increased the weight of his boot on Lucius's neck and the dying man gave a squeal like a pig, blood bubbling up from the gash in his neck.

"Now, remembering you were so very willing to usher me to my death, I will happily usher you to yours."

The blood had spread so that Severus was standing in it, and Lucius's blonde hair was turned red. His body was seizing now. Beyond words, he'd been chiselled down to his fundamental need to survive, and under the circumstances it was clearly impossible.

"Don't fret," Severus said through gritted teeth, bending closer. "I will make it very, very, very slow."

His voice dropped to a terrible hiss. "I'm sure you remember the nights the Dark Lord lost his temper. The mass Cruciatus."

Even from such a distance I could see Lucius's eyes widen.

"I promise I will make this night more unbearable for you than those. Unless you have a different request?"

Lucius seemed to try to speak but couldn't, as Severus increased the pressure of his boot on Lucius's throat, and more blood gurgled forth.

"Cat got your tongue? Or do you need a reminder?"

Severus's wand arm straightened, his black intentions clear in every fibre of his being.

"Severus!" Minerva warned.

I stepped forward. "No more."

My voice was only just above a whisper, but Severus turned his head as sharply as if I'd screamed. His face had been previously concealed by the fall of his black hair, and the sight of it was as chilling as the blood seeping over the floor. In his eyes I saw what had driven him to the darkness before, depths of hatred and vengefulness. His face was a still mask of heartlessness, but his eyes caved in slightly, questioning what I could mean by no more.

"Legilimency first."

His eyes followed me as I walked forward and stood over Lucius on his other side, standing in the lake of blood. Much good its purity was doing him now. His cold blue eyes, drained of their former crystalline quality, slid from Severus to me. My wand throbbed with a desire to torture but I held it back from action and only met his gaze, my face unmoving.

Outside the werewolves howled, and Remus answered.

Severus's eyes were burning into me and I lifted my own to his. There was a moment of emptiness between us, so profound it was as though we were both the other's welcoming Hell.

He broke contact first and looked down at Lucius, aiming his wand firmly as he intoned "Legilimens."

Even on the downward slope towards death Lucius attempted to keep the invader from his mind. He succeeded only a moment before Severus broke through his Occlumency shields. Whatever he did to accomplish this must have been brutal, because Lucius gave out a gurgled wail of agony.

I watched as Severus harvested everything he could from Lucius's mind, leaving scorched earth in his wake. Lucius trembled and gurgled unceasingly, and I thought Severus might endeavour to kill him with his mind.

Then it was over and Severus withdrew with coldness, leaving Lucius still alive–if barley.

"As ever. Useless."

I looked up at Severus and saw a clear bead of sweat rolling from his temple to his jaw. He spoke with enough volume that all could hear. "Baddock is indeed the key to the stone and the spell, and is in hiding even from his accomplices. Malfoy has no knowledge of the place."

He was still staring down at Lucius, cold murder in his eyes. My wand grew tense with jealousy, unwilling to surrender the object of its hatred to another's punishment. My free hand flew and clutched Severus's wrist.

"Leave him to me."

His black eyes looked up, searing mine.

Whatever hatred consumed him seemed to withdraw as he looked at me. And I knew he would allow me this. Giving Lucius's neck a final press with his boot, he stepped away and gave me room, tracking blood over the floor.

It was very quiet. Only the soft clucking sounds of the blood stopping up Lucius's breath, and the licking of the flames in the fireplace, whose light poured glimmering over the red pool.

I looked down at him.

He was completely vulnerable, completely at my mercy for the first time.

My wand had one thought. TORTURE.

I knew at this moment I had enough anger to cast the Cruciatus, if I chose.

But I would not.

Lucius was in enough pain. All I had to do… was nothing.

My body unnaturally steady, I knelt on the floor, wet with blood, and sat there watching him. The ruin of his face. His blood-soaked hair, dark red except for near his forehead where it was still blond.

Minerva's voice came from behind me, unusually high and hoarse. "Miss Weasley. Don't sit there in his blood."

"She will do what she must," Severus answered.

And there was no more talk.

While he died I looked more closely at his wounds. His exposed ribs. Parts of organs visible through the tears in his abdomen. Everything drowning, drowning in red.

I didn't feel sick at all, despite the sight and the overwhelming scent of his blood. I was neither unsatisfied nor quenched by his pain. I only sat there, quite numb, listening to his quiet wheezing.

Hours went by and still he hung on by a thread. My mind was occupied by dark meditation on everything he'd done to me and those I loved. Slowly my wand lost its hunger for violence, and in its silence gifted me an understanding.

It is not wrong to hate a person.

I let it go, then. The anger. It was his fault and his burden, not mine.

The long night wore on. I never once looked away from him, not wanting to miss a single second. Quiet footsteps sounded on the flagstones as the others came and went. But I somehow knew that Severus stayed the whole time, looking on.

Not a word was spoken all night. Only the howling of the wolves and the fire as it kept burning. And Lucius's sounds, when he managed to make them.

He died near dawn.

His head weakly and slowly turned towards me, and his bleary eyes tried to hook into mine, failing every time. I stared at him without a consoling look or sound and felt no guilt. I was the unforgiving face at the end of his life.

He seemed to try to whisper a word or a name, which sounded like a hiss.

Then his cloudy gaze returned to the magic ceiling, showing the eerie grey sky.

I watched him with open eyes, and knew the exact moment when he ended.