Janus-faced

JEY-nuh s-feyst | adjective

2: having two contrasting aspects, as the alternation of mood in a capricious person

It was his turn to provide the night's entertainment, and like the good little soldier that he was – to which master, he often wasn't entirely sure himself – he had obliged. The sandy-haired man quivered against the conjured ropes binding him. Severus had toyed with the idea of blindfolding the man, but in the end, he had decided that the absence of one would result in more fear. The man was a wizard. He knew who they were. Severus knew that his audience was disappointed that he had not brought them a woman – preferably barely of age and with a pretty face – but he was the one who'd have to torture the victim and he was grateful not to have the blood of yet another young woman on his hands if he could help it. Frankly, his choice had been random. He'd waited in the shadows beside a wizarding nightclub and made a grab for the first lone figure unfortunate enough to stumble from the press of bodies into the dark night outside.

"Severuss," hissed the Dark Lord. He lounged on the throne at the front of the room almost lazily, twirling his wand in his thin fingers. "It is time to begin. Make an ex-ssample of him."

The spy inclined his head deeply. "Nothing would bring me more pleasure, My Lord." Not nearly so much as watching your empire crumble.

In the light of the ballroom, it turned out that the man was a former student of his. Severus was not saddened to learn that he couldn't recall more than the man's surname. He couldn't even remember to which house the blonde had belonged. Severus wondered idly if he had had nightmares as a student of just this event. Severus Snape would indeed be the death of this man tonight. Severus Snape would be the hand of mercy to this man tonight.

"Mister Grable," he drawled, his wand falling into his palm. He saw more than heard the man's whimper. "I'm afraid that this may just be the worst detention you've ever experienced." A few nasty chuckles floated up from the room behind him. This may just be the worst detention that I've ever experienced. "Crucio."

Screams split the air and Severus allowed a smile to creep over his face. He felt the urge to vomit, as he did every time. He'd tortured countless people, countless times, and yet, the sick feeling never seemed to lessen. He only became more adept at hiding it. He only held the man under his wand for a few seconds – no more than twelve. He wasn't yet certain of how strong this one was and he did not want to end things too quickly. It would go poorly for him if he did so. The man wriggled, straining against his bonds. His breaths came hard and fast but he was far from broken yet.

Excellent. He hoped that the man would last long enough that he, himself would be spared torture tonight. He hoped that the man would break quickly so that he would not have to hear his screams echoing through his dreams tonight.

Severus knew that, while the torture curse was a particular favorite of the Death Eaters, there were other ways to torture. Ones that did not endanger the mind quite so heavily. Ones that were of higher entertainment value to his audience, upon whose favor he depended. He stepped closer to the body lying prone on the floor. Mister Grable's eyes glared up at him, anger and fear making them hard. He smiled wider.

"Sectumsempra." Another scream, this one laced with shock. There was blood on the floor, where there hadn't been before. The man was missing only a single finger. The middle digit of his right hand was now lying, dismembered, centimeters away from the rest of the hand. Severus took a moment to wonder at how, once removed from the others, the finger somehow no longer looked like a finger at all. He noticed that it could never be mistaken for anything other than what it was.

"Fuck!" shrieked the man on the floor.

"Oh, no, Mister Grable," Severus said, laughing darkly. "You are most definitely not my type." And I am most definitely not yours. He heard raucous laughter break out behind him. It bolstered his resolve. It wore down on what was left of his soul. "Pardon me for noticing, but you seem to be lopsided. Let me fix that for you." As the flash of white light bore down on him, the man curled in on himself, trying to draw his hand away as best he could, hogtied though he was.

That was a bit too much blood, Severus decided. He'd severed the whole damn hand and the arteries of the man's wrist was spurting out much too much of his life's blood. He muttered a spell to cauterize the wound and the bleeding slowed to a much more acceptable level. Lucky that he had studied up on his healing spells. He should have let the man bleed to death. It would have been faster.

The man was screaming something unintelligible and Severus tuned him out. He supposed he couldn't just carry on chopping off body parts or he'd chop all of him sooner rather than later. Especially if the man kept rolling around like he was currently doing. He wondered idly if the man realized that he was smashing his own severed hand with all his thrashing. Severus presumed that it didn't really matter – it was a severed hand, after all. Once it was severed, he guessed that the man had lost all attachment to it. He allowed himself a chuckle at that. It was rather a good pun, circumstances aside.

He silently locked the man in a full-body bind. This next curse would be difficult with all the rolling about. Using his foot to push the rigid body onto its back, he lowered his wand until he was nearly poking his victim in the eye. The mouth was frozen in a scream, the eyes wide and terrified. There was little of the man's defiance left now. There would be less after this. "Defodio," he intoned. With a satisfying and entirely nauseating little squelch, the man's eye popped from its socket, gouged neatly by his spell. That piece of work had come from a text so old and so foul, he daren't even repeat its name. He released the body bind and his ears were immediately assaulted by screaming. Annoying. Horrifying.

He cocked his head to one side, considering his next move. He could go for the old-fashioned, muggle methods, but he just didn't know how much entertainment value Chinese water torture held, and pulling fingernails lost appeal when there were only four left from which to choose. Instead, he aimed his wand at the man's left knee. "Reducto," he said coldly. His face indicated pleasure. His voice indicated boredom. Even over the screams, the distinct crunch of bone shattering into a thousand tiny shards could be heard clearly throughout the room. He wondered if the Dark Lord would allow him to harvest the shards for potions ingredients. He wondered if the Dark Lord would allow him to live through the night.

Mister Grable let out a string of obscenities that would have impressed the most well-traveled of sailors. "Just fucking kill me!" he screamed, half sobbing.

Severus made a habit of giving in to this request. The pleas were what haunted him in the quiet moments of his life. The pleas were what granted him the ability to continue on with his pathetic half-life. It allowed him the ability to think of his actions as mercy. It forced him to remember why they had pleaded.

He looked to the Dark Lord for permission. He daren't kill the man without it. With a small smile, the snake-faced monstrosity nodded once, barely more than a small incline of the head, but it was enough. Leveling his wand at the man's head, he uttered another cold, "Reducto," and watched in detachment as the skull exploded. He knew that the house elves would complain about the mess. He hoped that he would not be asked to provide entertainment for a while yet.

A/N: Well, that was more gruesome than anticipated. On another note: Socially awkward twenty-something female seeks sort of pen-pal friend. Interests include sarcasm, inappropriate remarks, and all things nerdy. Engaged and NOT looking for romance.