Snape's Redemption

Disclaimer: I wish.

Chapter Twelve – Slouching towards Bethlehem

It was a moor this time.

Severus hurried over and quickly took his place in the ring among his brother Death Eaters, his eyes focused on the ground as he tried to avoid catching the gaze of his master. It therefore took him some time to assimilate what was happening in the centre of the circle, as he was relying purely on his auditory senses. However, once he concentrated, he automatically knew what the slapping sound represented. Raising his eyes slightly, he flicked his gaze to either side to assess the state of his fellow Death Eaters; they were aroused. Quickly building up his Occlumency walls, Snape looked at the show in the middle of the circle.

Bellatrix Lestrange was on her hands and knees, naked, being held in place by her husband, Rodolphus, and her brother-in-law, Lucius Malfoy. Kneeling behind her was Voldemort, his gaze fixed on a point above the circle of his watching minions as he pumped into her. Snape was relieved to see that he was dressed – the thought of seeing the Dark Lord naked was enough to make his skin crawl. Bellatrix’s face was contorted in a grimace of agony, whereas her master looked vaguely bored. His tempo increased and finally he stopped, hissing slightly as he released himself into his serf. Quickly, he pulled out. Lucius and Rodolphus turned Bellatrix onto her back, raising her legs high and to ensure that none of the Dark Lord’s seed was wasted. Nagini slithered over, raised her head and flicked her tongue around Bella’s groin, tasting the air. She then hissed at Voldemort, who nodded and stepped away to address the crowd.

“Welcome, Death Eaters,” Voldemort hissed. “You see here tonight one of you raised greatly by me. My most loyal servant has now become my vessel. She will bear me my salvation.” He paused and looked around the circle. “Eventually,” he added in a low voice.

The Dark Lord swirled around and glided over to a large chair, motioning for the others to follow. Lucius and Rodolphus stayed with Bellatrix, as did Nagini. Everyone else circled around their seated master.

“I note some followers missing tonight,” Voldemort seemingly idly observed. “Snape, come forward.”

Burying his fears, Severus moved to his master, knelt down, and kissed his robe. From the corner of his eye, he noted that Lucius had joined the circle of followers, leaving his sister-in-law in the care of her husband. A cold finger of dread stroked down Snape’s spine.

“As you can see,” Voldemort whispered. “I have begun preparations to retrieve my Horcruxes.”

Severus pushed his fear back behind his carefully crafted walls as Voldemort rose from his chair and stood in front of him.

“Before he died, that old fool relieved me of one of them, but not without paying a price,” the Dark Lord continued, raising his voice for the rest of his followers to hear. “Young Potter had already destroyed one, due entirely to the rampant stupidity of Lucius. However, I believe his lesson has been learnt, has it not?”

“Yes, my Lord,” came Malfoy’s murmured response.

“He also tells me an interesting story about you and Regulus Black,” Voldemort idly commented. “Do you have anything you wish to add, Snape?”

“My Lord,” Severus began, desperately trying to think of away to come out of this night alive. “I used Black to attain the Horcrux because I was worried about the prophecy I had overheard. It was the only way I could think of ensuring your survival – to keep the Horcrux safe.”

“Are you questioning my ability to ensure the safety of my possessions?” Voldemort lashed out and struck his supplicant across the face, causing him to fall back onto the ground.

Severus lay still, allowing the blood to pool in his mouth, and resisting the urge to spit it out.

“Where is it?” the Dark Lord demanded angrily. “Where’s the locket?”

Snape tried to answer, but was unable to. Dumbledore had placed a further hex on Severus to ensure that he would never mention number twelve, Grimmauld Place in the presence of Voldemort or any of his followers.

“My Lord,” he began. “I cannot …”

“Cannot? CANNOT?” Voldemort questioned. “I find myself disappointed with you, Severus. I allowed you to rejoin my flock and what have you done since? Allowed one of my followers to kill herself as well as another without even giving me their bodies. Lucius tells me he begged you to allow him to present them to me, but you refused. You, who knows better than others, the ways I could have used their remains.”

Severus felt hands grasp him under his arms and lift him up. Twisting his head, he saw the large, blonde Death Eater, Yaxley. Yaxley adjusted his hold, pinning Snape’s arms to his, and drew out Severus’ wand. He passed it to the Death Eater behind him. It was Fenrir Greyback; he was smiling.

“Lucius also tells me that you acquired a cat,” Voldemort stated lazily as he moved back to seat himself on his chair. “A cat which ate Wormtail. Not that I am upset, but it is inconvenient to be deprived of such an eager servant.”

“My Lord,” Severus spoke, the blood pooled in his mouth now dripping down his chin. “I am …”

“Sorry?” Voldemort whispered. He leant forward. “Severus, I do not care.”

Sitting back, he waved at Snape’s two captors. “Take him away and make sure he learns his lesson. But this time, Fenrir, make sure there’s enough left and conscious for the rest to enjoy.”

It was over, Severus realised, and he would have only one chance to escape. As Yaxley bowed in acquiescence to the Dark Lord’s demand, Snape tore himself out of his loosened hold. He reached into the small pocket that every single one of his robes contained, and grasped the gobstone hidden therein.

Just before he disappeared, he saw Lucius Malfoy smile and nod at him.

*~*~*~*

Loud cursing woke Hermione up. Rolling over, she saw Snape, blood pouring down his chin, stalking around the room and throwing open all the drawers and cupboards. Their contents then shot out and packed themselves into an open trunk.

“Going somewhere?” she asked groggily and sat up, pushing her hair out of her face. When she was greeted with only silence, she looked over to see Snape staring fixedly at her breasts. Blushing, she yanked the bedsheet up over her chest and frowned at him. Blankly, his gaze moved up to her face and he snapped out of the spell he seemed to be under.

“Up, Miss Granger,” he ordered. “We have to leave.”

“Up?” she questioned. “I’ve only just gone down!”

“Not yet you haven’t,” Severus muttered under his breath.

“What? What did you say?”

“Miss Granger, the Dark Lord is not happy with me at the moment, so we must leave before he can find us. Not only will he kill me, but you …” He broke off with a hiss and grasped his left arm.

Hermione, realising Voldemort was somehow using Snape’s Dark Mark to find him, leapt out of bed and raced down to the potions laboratory that Severus had set up in the basement. Vaguely she could hear him using the Confundus Charm, and assumed he was aiming it at the Dark Mark in a desperate attempt to keep their location hidden. Racing through the rooms, she dodged all the flying books and miscellany that was busily packing itself. She finally found the Numbing Salve she had been developing from unfinished notes in Snape’s book and raced back upstairs, only realising she was still naked when she felt the result of their previous exercise dripping down her leg. Gritting her teeth, she burst into the room and, grasping the older wizard’s arm, slapped on the salve.

“Please, tell me this isn’t your Numbing Salve,” Severus begged. “I have only just escaped from Draco’s fate and I don’t particularly relish being burnt alive.”

“That only happened once,” Hermione prissily informed him. She moved over to the bed, grabbing his nightshirt from under the pillow before it could pack itself, and pulled it over her head. “I’ve removed the undiluted Bubotuber pus since then. Not that you would have been burnt alive – you would have just developed some boils. Plus, you wouldn’t have felt them anyway.”

“That mouse certainly felt it when it caught on fire,” Severus reminded her as he lifted his arm to study her paste. He sniffed at it gently. “I didn’t know such a small animal could squeal so loudly,” he reflected.

“Well, it’s interesting that we found out that mice and men react differently to undiluted Bubotuber pus,” Hermione said, happily. “I could write a paper on it. Is it working?”

“It has completely numbed the area you applied it to,” Snape admitted. “And as there are no Death Eaters thundering up the stairs, I would say that our endeavours have been successful – for the moment. However, I don’t wish to rely merely on this to stop the Dark Lord from being able to find me.”

Hermione chewed her lip, watching as their clothes finished folding themselves into the trunk. The lid slammed down with a crash, a sound which was echoed from all the rooms of the house as everything finished packing up. She had an answer to their dilemma, but she didn’t like it one little bit.

“Do you have any idea of where we can go?” she finally asked, hoping he would have a solution. A small burning pain began in her chest and she absently rubbed it.

“Not yet,” Snape admitted. “Due to this Mark, I can be found anywhere. We need to go somewhere that the Dark Lord is unable to go.”

Hermione was silent until a shot of pain replaced the burning. She gasped in shock and grasped at her left breast, trying to claw out the pain.

Snape strode over to her.

“Miss Granger, what’s wrong?” he questioned impatiently.

“Heart,” she panted as she felt her left arm go numb.

Snape swore. She collapsed onto the ground, writhing in pain

“You’re breaking your Vow, aren’t you?” he yelled at her. “This is what happens! You promised to do anything in your power to help me, remember? What do you know?”

Hermione heard his voice echo down to her as if he was at the end of a very long tunnel. The pain was immense, consuming her entire body and wiping out any thought. All she wanted was to finish it, just let go and let it all finish.

“HERMIONE!” Severus yelled, grasping her by the arms and hauling her upright, his eyes wild. “TELL ME!”

She hardly heard him. The pain was disappearing, and she began to feel at peace and relaxed. Yet, there was some part of her which remembered the consequences of dying under the vow. It was that small part that forced her to gasp out the name of their sanctuary.

Suddenly she could feel Snape’s arms around her and hear the quick, heavy thudding of his heart. Her eyes blinked open, and she realised he was sitting on the floor and she was in his lap. Quickly, she scrambled away, ignoring the fact that he smelt like the Amortentia Potion from Professor Slughorn’s class.

“Sorry,” she mumbled, smoothing the nightshirt back over her legs. She looked towards Snape to find he had stood up and was facing away from her.

“Miss Granger,” he rasped out. “This is not time for your schoolgirl experiments. If you know something that will help me in future, tell me. Unless you want to serve as my own personal ghost for all eternity.”

“Yes, sir,” she mumbled.

“I will perform a modified Muffliato upon you, so that if you are ever in danger of breaking your Vow and telling people about us, it will ensure only you and I can hear what you are saying,” he continued.

“Why do you need to do that?” she asked huffily. “I’m not going to tell anyone.”

Snape raised one eyebrow.

“My dear Miss Granger,” he stated. “Do you think that you won’t be questioned at all when we return?”

“Return where?” Hermione’s brow wrinkled in confusion.

“Why to where you said we would be safe,” he replied, smirking.

A look of dawning horror crossed her face and Snape nodded.

“Yes, Miss Granger, it’s back to number twelve, Grimmauld Place we go.”

*~*~*~*~

A/n Yes, I know it’s a short chapter, and I’m really sorry about that (not about the cliffy though). I just wanted to get this out before I disappear on holidays for two weeks. So please note, there will be no updates until approximately 5 October. Sorry, but I’m cruising around the Greek Islands and there is no internet connection.

Numbing Salve is mentioned here for the first time – I don’t have enough chemistry background to go into all the experiments Hermione’s trying out with Snape. Don’t worry, you’ll see more of their working interaction later!!

Chapter title is again paraphrased but this time from William Butler Yeats’ The Second Coming. I thought it appropriate mainly due to the line “Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;” but that was used for the title of a brilliant book by Chinua Achebe, which was written in response to Joseph Conrad’s novel “Heart of Darkness” (which was used as a basis of the film Apocolypse Now). But I also like the poem as a visionary poem which anticipates some coming violence. Anyway, the lines it is paraphrased from are as follows: ‘And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,/Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?’

Thanks again to my wonderful Betas – JuneW, GinnyW & Claraminutes – who turned this chapter around really quickly so that I could post before I go away. They really are wonderful, fantastic, funny and awfully supportive.

Finally, my wonderful reviewers and readers – seriously without you, I just would not have bothered continuing. And just coz I’m going away, don’t feel that you don’t have to review – I will devour them when I get back!!!

Right! I’m off for sun, sand and Taramasalata! (Points for who can pick which British movie that quote is from. Hint – there is no sign of Alan Rickman in it).

Toodles