For all Joy wants Eternity

For all Joy wants Eternity

Chapter 22

\'Tell him that werewolf friend of yours has never left the boy\'s
side all evening.’

----------------------------


Nothing but a dark void. Cold indifference, bare of any emotion. An
emptiness that bore its own hidden power. That enabled him not to
break under the impact of what the Dark Lord\'s last sentence implied.
That allowed him to immediately dismiss the innumerable possibilities
and images that should have flooded his mind at those words, not
letting even one of them get as far as his inner eye. Glorious, infamous
insensitivity. Blessed, abhorrent cold-heartedness. The only resort, the
only retreat, the only way to withstand.

The only way.

He had not endured and won the fight for his mind against Voldemort
mere minutes ago only to tear down the barriers of his Occlumency now
all by himself, due to his feelings and fear for Remus, by giving in to a
new quality of despair and guilt. Giving Potter and his assignedguardian
for the night away had been his very own, deliberate choice, and all that
was left for him now was to do everything in his power to see to it that his
betrayal had not, in th end, been in vain.

So ever since the meaning of Voldemort\'s last order to tailtail had
buried itself in his brain, Severus had struggled to collect all of his
concentration, to clear his mind from everything except a strict focus
upon whatever might come to pass. Very gradually, very slowly, the spy
fought his way back to the unwavering resolution that he had felt earlier
this evening, to the degree of will power that had burned within him not
even an hour ago, to the brightly flaring determination with which his entire
being had sung. All the time painfully aware of two red eyes still drilling
into his own. Of two hands that were still upon him and of the closeness
of the only body that did not smash his physical and mental being by its
proximity.

Of the Dark Lord’s most powerful mind that could attack him again at
any second.

The profound silence that fell after the trap door magically snapped shut
behind a hastily retreating rat grew more intense by the moment. Though
Severus was not able to detect anything like the former onslaught on his
mental defences right now, the vivid force with which Voldemort\'s eyes
were penetrating him made the spy\'s insides shiver, left him wondering
how much of the attempt to regain his composure he would need for the
remainder of the night as his former master labored to perceive his
thoughts. The fact that the claw-like fingers on his back had begun to
slightly caress the stiff muscles between the younger Slytherin\'s
shoulder blades, drawing small circles with slow, languid strokes, only
fueled the sickening uneasiness the spy felt. Unable to b fro from the
tight grip of Voldemort\'s eyes, knowing very well that he\'d better not try
to anyway, Severus felt doubt exploding inside him, followed by a
mighty surge of panic that he\'d probably failed after all. He well
recalled the Dark Lord\'s remark towards Pettigrew, the short
affirmation of his, Severus\'s, returning to grace that he had paid such
a high price for, buill,ill, still...

Being completely transfixed by his former master\'s gleaming stare,
struggling with fear and his attempt to focus at the same time,
Severus was not able to tell how much time they had already spent
standing close in complete silence, when the Dark Lord\'s visual
focus suddenly seemed to drift away from him. It was not that his
former master\'s eyes had left his own, but the red glance had
become distant, almost a little blurred. For a few heartbeats,
Voldemort\'s features went completely blank without showing the
slightest flicker of emotion, before suddenly pure triumph split that
lipless mouth into one of the cruelest smiles Severus had ever
seen dawn on that hated face, while the red slits lit up with
malicious joy and the horrible head was thrown back. And Severus
simply knew, knew with piercing certainty that right now, that very
moment Potter must have fallen into the Death Eaters\' hands, the
scar on the boy\'s forehead was seething with the vicious euphoria
that rang out in the Shack as Voldemort\'s devilish laughter filled
the air.

Unable to close his perception to the horrible certainty of triumph
radiating from the Dark Lord, Severus tried to make use of not being
the center of Voldemort\'s throttling attention and felt how his entire
being slightly relaxed, now that the pressure of those burning eyes
had left his consciousness for a few seconds. The Slytherin desperately
fed on those unexpected moments of freedomll all aware that all he
could do was to continue gathering his energy, to strengthen his
composure - and to wait.

Not that Voldemort would have given him much time.

\'This more than pleasantly inspiring togetherness we were allowed to
share will come to an end soon now, my sweet snow white.\' With all
its terrible force, the Dark Lord\'s glittering red stare fixed itself upon
Severus\'s eyes again, drowning them in its scrutiny. \'We\'ll have
company in only a few minutes.\'

The shimmer of amusement that had crept into Voldemort\'s glance
burned right down to Severus\'s soul. With only the slightest
inclination of his head, the Dark Lord leaned forward a little, just
enough to lightly move the tip of his pointed tongue across the spy\'s
lower lip.

Mentally clenching his fists, the younger wizard put all of his
re-wakening will-power into keeping up his apparently unmoved façade,
as his former master withdrew with a sardonically tender smile.

\'As much as I regret losing sight of those lovely features of yours,
my dear Severus, the upcoming events will demand an appearance
adequate for the circumstances.\' A bony hand elegantly pointed to the
younger Slytherin\'s cloak and mask which still lay on the floor where
they had fallen after Voldemort had removed them earlier. \'I don\'t
want Mr. Potter to feel we would think him unworthy of being treated
with anything but the utmost respect. So I suppose we should honor
his presence by confronting him fully dressed.\'

Severus would have slapped himself had he been able to. How could he
not have been aware of the fact that he had been about to face Harry
Potter unmasked in only a few moments, a fact that would most surely
influence how the boy would handle his probably final encounter with
Voldemort? It would likely be the last chance for Severus himself to
interfere with what was to come. So much depended on this
confrontation, actually everything depended on it, but how was he
supposed to influence any of the upcoming events if he was not capable
of realizing the most obvious things, let alone taking them into account... ?

Still silently cursing his pathetic state of mind, Severus managed a
dutiful nod.

\'Of course, my Lord.\' The spy was already reaching for his wand, when
Voldemort\'s soft voice stopped him from summoning cloak and mask.

\'No magic, Severus.\'

The younger Slytherin froze. For a split second, his glance darted in
disbelieving bewilderment to his former master, who lazily leaned
against a wooden beam in the wall, arms folded across his chest,
eyes glittering, a small smile playing around his mouth. For a
heartbeat, all of Severus\'s pride rebelled against the degrading
order he had just received, before he finally lowered his head in
another small bow of compliance and put his wand away, silently
accepting the Dark Lord\'s wishes. Very slowly, the spy turned and
moved over to the pile of cloth that was his cloak still laying on the
floor, along with the loathed mask. Painfully aware of what
Voldemort wanted to see, Severus knelt, letting the fingers of one
gloved hand curl around the black collar, taking up the mask with the
other. All the time feeling a thoroughly amused glance on the back
of his neck.

The cloak\'s weight descended upon his soul as soon as it touched
His shoulders. Feeling the familiar dark grip of his past claw at his
heart, Severus closed his eyes and silently counted to three before
he finally turned around again.

Voldemort still rested against the opposite wall, still smiled in that
most frightening way. Fighting down a vicious shiver that threatened
to give his stat min mind away, the younger Slytherin forced his
reluctant body to comply with necessity, brought himself to hold that
mocking, red glance for an instant before he submissively bowed to
the Dark Lord one more time, offering the mask in one slightly
extended hand.

\'If my Lord would be so generous as to honor me with his support...\'

With his eyes still obsequiously fixed on some point on the dusty
floor, Severus was not able to visually perceive either the deepening
of Voldemort\'s smile or the intensification of the malicious glitter in the
Dark Lord\'s stare, still he felt the small hairs on the back of his neck
rise in response to his former master\'s growing amusement, which
was now mirrored in the low voice as well.

\'How could I possibly refuse a request like that?\' The spy retained
his submissive posture, so only the low sounds of a robe rustling over
the floor told him that Voldemort was slowly drawing nearer. \'Rest
assured this will be *my* pleasure, my dear Severus.\' The voice
dropped to a soft purr. \'Stand straight.\'

Even as he lifted his head, Severus felt the wooden mask leaving the
loose grip of his fingers. Only for a few seconds after he and the Dark
Lord hade eye eye contact again was the spy\'s vision dominated
by the sight of his former master\'s ghostly skull, strangely illuminated
by the light of four flickering torches, before a wooden shadow rose
between them and slowly descended on the younger man\'s face.
Severus\'s visual world was reduced to the weak brightness that
entered through two almond-shaped slits, while he listened to the Dark
Lord\'s softly murmured spell, which locked the darkness in place for
good.

And then the rhythmical knock at the trap door cut through the thick
silence.


----------------------------------------------------------------------


The boy\'s chest was moving heavily in an obvious attempt to calm
his erratic breathing. Both hands were clenched into fists so tight
that the white knuckles were clearly visible, and the green eyes
behind his broken glasses burned brightly with fury and defiance. Apart
from a long scratch running over Harry Potter\'s left cheek and his
hair looking even more dishevelled than it would have after the wildest
game of Quidditch, no external signs indicated that the boy had just
been captured during a magical fight. Not having moved since he\'d been
pushed up the entrance and into the Shrieking Shack, Potter was still
standing where Pettigrew had left him to give the Dark Lord his report,
all flaring rage, all bristling contrariness, all bright courage.

All Gryffindor.

Safely hidden behind the protection of cloak and mask, and grateful
for it for once, Severus watched the boy struggle to accept his obvious
helplessness while Wormtail handed a wand over to the Dark Lord with
a bow, before he turned and left the Shack through the main door,
letting a cold breeze in as he went.

Voldemort\'s hand closed around the slender piece of wood with
something one might have called a caress had it not been the Dark
Lord\'s bony fingers that gently glided over Potter\'s wand from tip to base.
With an annoyingly slow movement, the wizard who had once been Tom
Riddle lifted his head to meet the furious glare of the Boy Who Lived,
and a smile contorted his horrible face before he spoke.

\'Before I welcome you properly, there\'s something I need to make you
see, Harry.\' Voldemort took one step in the boy\'s direction. \'I want you to
know, and you will learn within the next hours, that betrayal is among the
most painful things that one can experience.’

Severus’s insides flinched at the innuendo in Voldemort’s words, but the
Dark Lord was already going on.

‘So I\'m sure that you’ll very soon fully understand what I have to do
now.\'

Severus could sense how confusion mingled with fear flickered through
the boy\'s aura. A strong premonition took hold of his own consciousness,
and a powerful feeling of dark expectation made his eyes narrow behind
his mask.

The Lor Lord took another step towards Potter.

\'Of course you remember this wand of yours being guilty of high treason,
don\'t you, Harry?\'

Another step.

Severus only understood when his former master\'s hands slowly wandered
to the ends of the wand they were holding and lifted it until it was level with
its wizard\'s eyes, eyes that told that Potter himself hadn\'t comprehended yet.

Another step.

\'And surely you understand that I cannot allow this treacherous brother to
betray its twin ever again.\'

Severus could see realization widening the boy\'s eyes when it was already
too late. There had only been the slightest movement of Voldemort\'s hands,
but the sound of Potter\'s breaking wand ripped through the air with a violent
crack that cruelly echoed fthe the ruined walls, and the spy knew then that if
wood could scream, this was what it would sound like. Still trying to get his
desperately reeling mind under control, perfectly aware of what was about to
come, Severus tried in vain to tear his eyes away from the scene before him.
Obviously relishing every single moment, Voldemort let two of his bony
fingers gently close around one of the wounds he had just inflicted on
Potter\'s wand and begun to pull, slowly, gradually removing its magical soul,
until he held a still beautifully shimmering, long feather of red and gold in his
hands.

Feeling how his own features set into a fierce grimace, Severus only
marginally perceived the boy’s desperate gasp and the Dark Lord\'s soft
lter.ter. Had the Slytherin had the slightest hope before that Voldemort\'s
morbid self-importance would trick him into delaying the inevitable, into
not being able to resist the tempting opportunity to toy a little with his
victim before going for a lethal blow, the Dark Lord had just taught him
otherwise. Destroying another wizard\'s or witch\'s wand was not
something Voldemort usually resorted to. He was Slytherin\'s Heir after all,
and no matter how cunning and sly the Dark Lord might be, there was still
a very dark kind of pride in him, a pride that simply forbade depriving
one\'s counterpart of his magic in as pathetic a way as that.

But this had not been about leaving Potter utterly helpless. This was
Voldemort\'s way of making sure to never encounter again what had
already defeated him once. After already having overcome the barrier
Lily\'s protective emotions had erected around her son, the Dark Lord
chose the most simple and effective way to eliminate Priori
Incantatem once and for all, gradually stripping the boy of all the
weapons and defences love and life had equipped him with, one after
another.

And it was beginning to show as well that Voldemort had no intention
to play whatsoever, but to make sure this would indeed be his final
confrontation with The Boy Who Lived.

With a forceful jolt ripping through him, Severus felt his brain kickin
a
and the spy taking over again, the part of him that had struggled to
protect the one supposed to defeat the Dark Lord for so many years
now in his very own way. His thoughts, which had been racing behind his
eyes began to arrange, to order, to develop threads of possibilities and
different strategies, showing optional outcomes, lining out priorities.
More than grateful to have full access to his rational abilities again, the
Slytherin let himself be led by famifamiliar patterns forming in his head,
fully trusting his mind to take him where he needed to go to realize. To
see. To recognize the one chance he must have to interfere.

But all the mental paths in his head led to the two pieces of broken
wood that were still in one of the Dark Lord\'s taloned hands, now being
slowly extended towards Potter in a mock gesture of offering, and with
a smile dripping with cruelty. Telling Severus that his former master had
notiretirely lost his interest in toying with the boy at all. And as if he
didn\'t want to lose any time confirming the spy\'s suspicion, Voldemort
slowly raised his hand holding the Phoenix\'s feather. Cocking his head
slightly, thrk Lrk Lord caressingly drew the soft, quivering former core
of Potter\'s wand down the boy\'s cheek.

And then his former master\'s soft voice crept over the Slytherin’s skin.

\'I\'m sure you crave having your wand back, don\'t you, Harry?\'

A distant fraction of his mind winced at the purposeful ambiguity of
Voldemort\'s words, but the rest of Severus\'s head was ringing with
realization. With the one clue he had needed to begin. With the fact
which he couldn\'t believe he had not grasped until now.

The fact that now that Potter\'s medium of magic lay broken, soulless
and dead in the Dark Lord\'s hands, there was only one wand left in
this room that could enable Potter to challenge the Darkd
md
magically.

His own.

Severus didn\'t lose any time, didn\'t let the briefest of thoughts so much
as touch the image of Potter using his wand, an idea that would have left
him nauseated at best under ordinary circumstances. Still, he had
learned a long time ago that there was nothing like that when dealing with
the Dark Lord in general, and he knew that this night in particular \'t \'t
allow the slightest hesitation from either of them. This was n nig night of
second chances, nor a night for second thoughts, but one that asked for
quick and flawless action.

So Severus had contemplated a dozen possible alternatives of how to
grant Potter access to his wand within a split-second. And had
discarded every single one of them just as fast. All it had taken was
one closer look at the scene before him, and the Slytherin felt a cold
breeze freezing his insides. The boy and the Dark Lord were still
standing face to face, Potter still caught in Voldemort\'s acid stare,
still trembling slightly under that horrible smile and the tormenting
touch of his destroyed wand\'s core whispering over his left cheek. His
staring eyes seemed to have doubled in size and had gone
completely blank, just as Potter\'s face was plain of any expression.
The boy\'s mouth was hanging slightly open and his lower lip had begun
to tremble...

Severus knew those signs only too well. The Slytherin had enough
experience with this particular, most powerful Legimens to tell that he
was witnessing the side-effects of a severe attack on the young
Gryffindor\'s mind. He was also only too aware of the boy\'s poor
capabilities when it came to Occlumency. Potter by no means
possessed the slightest chance to fight the Dark Lord\'s intrusion, and
only Salazar himself knew what kind of damage Voldemort was about
to cause in that vulnerable young spirit.

Severus felt the first heralds of despair re-waken somewhere in the
back of his own mind. The boy\'s entire body had begun to violently
shake, and all of the spy\'s instincts screamed at him that it would be too
late very soon. Whatever the Dark Lord was trying to achieve here,
Potter\'s physical reactions to those attempts, as well as Voldemort\'s
deepening smile, spoke for itself, and the Slytherin felt how he, the boy,
all of them, were running out of time. He needed to act. He needed to
act now. He simply had to somehow get Potter out of that trance of
horror, needed Voldemort to let go of the Gryffindor for at least a
moment. There had to be a way to get through to the boy, to let him
know he was not alone, to rekindle something like hope, to remind him
that they were all still depending on him. That they still needed him...

Another knock sliced through the shivering silence that had fallen since
the Dark Lord\'s last words, cast in the same rhythmical pattern as all the
other knocks before. But this one did not come from the trap door to the
tunnel. This time, someone asked to be let in at the maior tor to the
Shack, and the request was heavy with urgency, clipped in a strange
breathless way. Severus could literally taste the alarm that sound carried
into the room, could feel immediately how each nerve of his tense body
began to shiver with reflexive strain. Like crackling whispers of wildfire,
the message crept through his body with unbelievable speed and
reached his mind before the last knock had finished ringing through the
air.

Something in Voldemort\'s plan had gone wrong. Terribly wrong.

The Slytherin struggled for control to restrain himself from inhaling on a
triumphant hiss as he saw his own premonitions reflecting on his former
master\'s face. With a murderous look in those red eyes, the Dark Lord
slowly turned from the dis-wanded boy in front of him and fixed on the
closed entrancr a r a few moments as if to suck the message waiting
on its other side through the wood by the mere force of his burning, acid
stare, before he took several strides towards the door which complied
with the short, but forceful wave of Voldemort\'s hand that still held the
Phoenix\'s feather, and opened with a tormentingly squeaking sound.

Severus\'s skin began to bristle with the familiar first hints of too
much physical proximity as two Death Eaters entered with the cool
night air, one of them immediately falling to his knees be hie his master,
pressing his brow to the hem of Voldemort\'s robes, all the time panting
frantically, but apart from that leteletely silent. Not giving Severus the
slightest clue about which of his \'colleagues\' he was watching prostrating
himself at the Dark Lord\'s feet. Whereas the slightly whining sound of the
other\'s voice revealed his identity at once.

\'Forgive the intrusion, my Lord, but MacNair just arrived with most
important information...\'

\'I see as much, Wormtail.\' Voldemort\'s voice, crisp with coldness and
scarcely hidden threat silenced the other man at once. \'Now would you
kindly refrain from stating the obvious so MacNair can actually deliver
what he has to tell.\'

With several small bows and mumbled excuses, Wormtail withdrew to a
position near the door, while Voldemort turned his eyes back to the
crouching figure on the floor that now began to hastily report in a low,
soundless voice. And though being tpy hpy he was, he definitely should
have listened carefully to MacNair\'s monologue, Severus hardly noticed
when the words \'disaster\' and \'St. Mungo\'s\' made it through to him from the
other Death Eater\'s wild whisper.

His entire attention was engaged elsewhere.

It was as if Potter had woken from some kind of enchanted sleep. The
boy\'s wildly blinking eyes had regained some life of their own again,
and from the initial confusion that dawned on the young Gryffindor\'s face to
be replaced by gradually growing awareness only shortly after, Severus
could tell that Potter had managed to shake off the mental claws his mind
had been caught in only moments ago. Or rather that Voldemort had
actually left the boy alone, for the time being. Regarding how Potter had
done during their Occlumency lessons, the probability that the boy had
managed to push the Dark Lord out of his mind by his own unaided effort
was less not not existent...

The spy’s next thought and the daring idea it implied hit him with a force
that almost made him gasp.

A quick glance towards the door told him that Voldemort was still busy
getting even the tiniest bit of information out of MacNair. Yes, this *was*
his chance, all he needed was the Dark Lord\'s attention focused on
someone completely different, and the fact that his former master was
most obviously in an extremely foul mood right now only served his own
intentions. With rage and fury fogging the Dark Lord\'s perception,
distracting him for a few more moments, he had a chance. He only had
to take action now.

And very slowly, very carefully, Severus gradually moved into Harry
Potter\'s visual field.

The growing closeness to the boy already began to affect him. Each
cautious step towards the Gryffindor was punished by waves of panic
that rolled over him in crushing surges, and still Potter showed not the
slightest sign of having noticed another Death Eater approaching him.
Already feeling blood trickling down from where his teeth were burying
themselves deeply ints los lower lip, Severus cursed the Gryffindor\'s
stubbornness in all the tongues he knew. It was simply impossible that
Potter was still oblivious to his presence, and if that brat would not look
up this very moment...

But he did. Just when Severus was sure he was unable to take one step
closer to the boy, those green eyes finally lifted to meet his masked glance
with a fierce, open stare that was gleaming with contempt.

The Slytherin reacted immediately. If Potter gave their little interaction
away by just one wrong movement that would give rise to Wormtail\'s
attention, by only one word that might cause Voldemort\'s suspicion, they\'d
both be irrevocably lost. They\'d all be. So without losing any tim all all,
Severus let all of his Legimency slam full-force against the Gryffindor\'s
mind as soon as they had made eye contact. Silently praying to all the
forces out there to let the boy realize. To make him understand and
recognize who it was penetrating his thoughts.

To make him recognize him in time.

Some part of the spy\'s consciousness noticed the traces that Voldemort\'s
mental onslaught had left inside the boy\'s head, open slashes that felt like
raw, moist h woh wounds under the demanding touch of his groping thoughts,
and for a very short moment, Severus wished he did not have to add to the
horribly painful experience this must have been by attacking Potter\'s mind
himself. Still, the sheer necessity of this desperate action made the spy
forget about any kind of protectiveness that might sabotage his
determination. Pursuing the risky plan that had formed inside his head only
moments ago, Severus continued probing the boy\'s thoughts, desperately
hoping Potter would recall this situation and remember their Occlumency
lessons, as well as the familiar structures of the mind currently intruding into
his.

The Slytherin sensed the sudden understanding within the boy\'s spirit
before he saw it dawn in the eyes in front of him. A questioning
thought emerged from somewhere in the boy’s consciousness, but
Severus felt how Potter perceptibly relaxed, could sense how
realization began to dominate the other’s mind. A little surprised at the
relief that rippled through the Gryffindor\'s aura, Severus didn\'t allow
himself the slightest satisfaction, but prepared himself to go on with what
he knew was their only chance to get through this night alive. A very
distant, but still attentive part of his consciousness perceived how at the
other end of the room, Voldemort had begun one of his dreaded
monologues about being disappointed with his Death Eaters’
performance. The spy knew that very soon, the Dark Lord would vent his
anger on the still kneeling messenger in a much more painful way than
this verbal one was, a fact that would buy them a little more time, time
he intended to make full use of.

Not loosening his grip on the y Gry Gryffindor\'s mind for even a second,
Severus began the complicated task of communicating his plan. He
was a much more skilled and powerful Occlumens than a Legimens,
and the fact that he could not use his wand here without drawing
Wormtail\'s, or worse, Voldemort\'s, attention didn\'t make things easier.
Grateful that Potter had obviously grasped the crucial meaning of this,
not fighting his professor\'s mental intrusion at all and keeping perfectly
still as he was, the Slytherin sent his strategy along the bridge between
their minds, encoded in images, sounds and emotions. He was very
aware that Potter, after years of sharing visions with Voldemort, had
much more experience receiving messages like that than he himself
had sending them, but this was something he was actually counting on.
And when he felt the complete bewilderment that had crept through the
Gryffindor\'s mind only moments ago change into startled, outright
refusal, Severus realized that the boy had understood.

It was true that he was asking much. He knew how frightening the whole
plan must seem to Potter right now, and the positively terrified look in
the boy\'s eyes that usually were shining with so much defiant confidence
told the spy loud and clear what the Gryffindor thought about the role
the Slytherin had assigned to him in this deadly game. Still, the spy
couldn’t believe that Potter actually seemed to think he had a right to
*choose* here. Unable to hold back the hot anger that suddenly boiled
up inside of him, Severus felt every single muscle of his body tense with
the attempt to not let his fury show. How dared this arrogant brat refuse
to take his place in these events? There were so many people in this
war risking their lives, overcoming barriers that seemed to be
insurmountable, and doing what had to be done despite shivering to the
bones when only thinking about what was demanded of them! And here
was the Boy Who Lived, the savior of the wizarding world, *refusing* to
take responsibility, to take his place in the only plan that would help them
out…

Knowing there was no time for the luxury of either giving in to his fury or
trying to *convince* the boy, Severus forced himself to relax. With one
quick glance at the door, he assured himself that Voldemort was still taking
his wrath out on MacNair, before he concentrated all of his attention on
the task at hand and on the mind again in his hands. If Potter was not able
to realize by himself that he had to overcome his childish fears for the sake
of all of them, he needed to take more drastic measures.

He’d most certainly have no qualms whatsoever about doing so!

The first images the Slytherin sent the boy\'s way showed nothing more
than a burning Diagon Alley and a destroyed Leaky Cauldron, but
when he continued with Hogsmeade in bright flames, Severus could
already feel Potter\'s weak attempt to escape those dark visions of
a possible near future should they fail tonight. Still he received
nothing but the Gryffindor\'s mentally declining his plan, maybe even
a little wilder than before, and so the spy saw no other choice but
pushing Potter further into the consequences of his refusal. Evoking
the next images was painful, but not difficult at all, for they were part
of his own nightmares for years: Hogwarts, partly destroyed, its
corridors, classrooms and halls scattered with the dead bodies of
colleagues and students alike. He was mentally dragging the young
Gryffindor through the castle, let him stumble over bodies, anonymous
ones at first, but the shock that erupted within the boy as Severus made
him run right into the massive corpse of Hagrid told the spy that he
would have to exploit the strong and powerful emotional bonds Potter
had established during his time at Hogwarts if he wanted to get
somewhere. Without the slightest hesitation, Severus hurled the boy
into the Headmaster\'s office, let him touch the blood-stained feathers of
a lifeless Fawkes, made him turn over the mangled corpse of Albus
Dumbledore so he had to take a look into the empty eyes behind broken
spectacles. Trembling inwardly with the horror and sorrow those visions
gave rise to within himself, the Slytherin was perfectly aware of the small
plea for him to stop that quivered through the boy\'s mind, but Severus
had no intention whatsoever of letting him off the hook, not before he had
Potter’s full, genuine consent to what had to be done. And if the boy
needed the full scale of terror to finally *see*, the spy felt more than
happy to present it to him right here and right now.

He could feel Potter\'s mental resistance grow as he confronted him with
Visions of the Gryffindor common room, where the Fat Lady’s portrait
over the entrance hole hung completely destroyed, allowing the boy
enough of a glance inside to get an idea about what was awaiting him.
Easily overcoming Potter\'s frantic attempts to struggle against the mind
that was pushing him forward, Severus flung the boy through the entrance
and into every Gryffindor\'s lair. Ignoring the profound sorrow and despair
he could feel flooding the other\'s mind, the spy directed Potter\'s gaze
over the forms of his housemates\' dead bodies, let him recognize
Longbottom and Finnegan, and finally forced the boy\'s sight over to the
cold, dark fireplace, where he let him make out a glimpse of red hair
right beside bushy curls among the motionless, lifeless corpses...

Potter\'s silent scream ripped through their mental connection, echoed
in both of their minds with powerful resonance, pulling them both out
of the visions of sheerest horror they had just shared. Only by
summoning all of his strength and skill did Severus succeed in
maintaining his hold on the boy\'s mind that was still vibrating with pain,
terror and fear - but as well with brightest, purest rage. And even
though the Slytherin knew that a great part of that fury was directed
at himself right now, he was also well aware of this burning anger
being the basis for what Potter still needed to accomplish tonight.

And suddenly, Severus couldn\'t help but perceive the complete lack of
the former firm refusal the boy had met his strategy with only seconds
ago. Feeling the powerful force of hope conquering his entire being,
Severus re-focused on the Gryffindor\'s green eyes that were glittering
with tears and concentrated once more on the mind within the grasp of
his own.

The wild relief that welled up inside him when he made out Potter\'s
agreement to his plan amid the chaos of the boy\'s emotions almost made
Severus lose their mental connection, but their mutual consent seemed to
have created its own bond. The spy felt how determination and will-power
were exchanged along the bridge between their minds, how resolution
multiplied, how strength and power built where before there had only been
despair, how they both prepared for and came to terms with what they
had to do. And when he knew with absurd certainty that both of them were
ready, all he did was send out a single word to the waiting spirit of his ally.

*Now*

In the back of his head, Severus registered the first screams of MacNair
under a Cruciatus, but the greater part of his consciousness focused on
forcing himself to lower his own mental defences and draw back a little
from Potter\'s mind at the same time to make things easier for the boy.
Silencing the small whispers of doubt that were reminding him that Potter
had done this only once, telling him how stupid he was to expect the boy
to manage a second time on command and not on raw, spontaneous
reaction, the Slytherin lowered his head and simply waited.

He felt it immediately when it finally happened. Just as he had felt it only
once before, during their Occlumency-lessons, when the Slytherin had
realized how his grip on Potter\'s mind had been broken, how the boy had
struggled free from the foreign force in his head - and how he had made
use of the still existing bridge between them to enter Severus\'s head
himself. Just as he did now.

The Slytherin sensed the boy\'s initial confusion and disorientation, knew
that this was perfectly normal for one who was not used to spending his
time inside other peoples\' minds. But Potter would have to do much more
than simply be present in his head...Mentally drawing a deep breath,
knowing perfectly well how aware the boy would be of that, Severus
closed his eyes and performed his last duty in this macabre game,
banishing all of his pride, which screamed loudly in protest. Kissing the
most sacred aspect of his being good-bye, the Slytherin deliberately,
voluntarily submitted to the consciousness that had taken hold of him,
handing all of his mind, all of his thoughts and secrets, all of his emotions
and all of his body over to the Boy Who Lived.

Neither of them would have enough time to adapt to this completely new
situation that they found themselves in. They\'d also never know what
exactly triggered it, but they were suddenly facing a wildly screaming
Peter Pettigrew, waving a shivering finger in their direction, yelling
warnings at Voldemort who was still looming over a whimpering MacNair.
Still struggling to regain control of themselves, they had to watch the
Dark Lord turn towards them, see how the horrible head inclined a little
in a questioning gesture, how their former master took a slow step
towards them, asking something, but nothing could have been less
important now that they were caught in their own frantic efforts to get a
hold of the only wand at their disposal. Watching Voldemort drawing
even nearer, hearing him repeating whatever it was he had said before,
they finally felt their shivering fingers closing around the warm surface
of a slim piece of wood. Joining in a mutual scream of relief, they felt
how their arm gradually lifted, saw Voldemort\'s eyes narrow to
gleaming slits, heard Wormtail\'s scream of warning. Sudden
understanding blazed from the red stare that had caught hold of their
own eyes now, and they could see the spark of genuine fear that
glittered in the Dark Lord\'s gaze, could hear the howl of desperate fury
that rang through the Shack as Voldemort raised his own wand, and
they knew he would be too late. Filling the entire room with the powerful
sound of their own roaring voice, conjuring their own magic before he
could so much as react, they sent the green stream of light from the tip
of their wand directly towards the center of his chest.


---------------------------------------------------------------------


Pain beyond description reached for him as soon as he saw the Killing
Curse drive into his former master\'s body. The three marks on his
chest seemed to have caught fire, a snare of searing acid was cutting
into his heart and head, and his thorax was exploding cau caustic
flames over and over again. Completely paralyzed with an agony that
threatened to drive him out of his mind, Severus sank to his knees, his
mouth open with a soundless scream that would have torn down the
Shrieking Shack had it not been silent.

Somewhere in the heat of the torture that raged inside him, he knew he
would not be able to last much longer. He wasn\'t sure whether he would
die or simply lose his mind, but he needed to let go, he couldn\'t hold on
anymore, his body and soul were breaking, and the simple attempt to
keep them from doing so was driving him mad with pain. He would have to
give in soon, but not before he had finished this. There was still one thing
left to do, and with all the strength he could muster, the spy forced his
collapsing mind to focus one more time, to concentrate on this final task, to
give one additional, final evidence of its Slytherin determination.

So before the world went black around him, Severus Snape pushed the
Boy Who Lived out of his head, with one last excruciating cry ringing aloud
through the Shack after all.



Author\'s note:
Stealing time for writign gets more difficult with every day - but the deadline for the
handing-in of my thesis is drawing nearer. hreehree weeks, this monster will have to
be delivered, and after that, all my energies will be focused on finishing this baby
here as soon as possible!

@Verigo:
Glad to have you with the story! And I hope you liked how things developed in
the latest chapter...I promise as well that Severus and Remus *will* experience
something nice together soon that lasts longer than 2 seconds...;o) Thanks for
reviewing!

@uris:
I\'m not evil - well, at lenot not consciously so...*bigpuppyeyes*. It\'s real life that
takes its toll! Thanks for your comment anyway - and for your patience, of course!

@west dean:
Wow! That\'s been some kind of compliment *blushes*!! Thanx!!!
I\'m wondering about those dead bodies, though...;o)