Saving your life

With one last look at Hermione, Severus Apparated away to see the Dark Lord, leaving her behind with her parents and hoping she would be safe. He wondered what would happen to him, and was surprised to realize the main reason why he even cared was because he wanted to see her again. He wasn’t sure how it had happened, or even when, but his feelings for her were deeper than anything he had ever known before, and all he could think about lately was that little witch. No one had ever cared about him as much as she did, no one had treated him, looked at him or trusted him like she did, and for once in his life he could see a glimpse of a possibility, of another life for him. He only hoped he would live long enough to see it happen.

He Apparated a few yards away from the seemingly abandoned factory that hid the Dark Lord’s headquarters, and took a moment to get ready before going in. Looking around to make sure no one else was there he waved his wand at himself, slashing his robes and skin open on several places before moving on to his face, splitting his lip and bruising his cheek. He wasn’t sure yet of exactly what he would say or do, but he knew it would have to be believable if he wanted it to work.

Faking a slight limp, he slowly moved to the main entrance, the Dark Mark on his forearm granting him entry without lowering the wards.

He instantly sensed something was off, but still he walked inside, his eyes searching every room as he walked, never once seeing or hearing anyone until he reached the very last room.

Wormtail started shaking and cowered against the wall when he heard Severus’ footsteps, and relaxed only slightly when he saw who it was. The wizard looked much paler than usual, and Severus could see a dried trail of tears down his cheeks and dried blood covering one side of his head. When he moved, Severus noticed the silver hand Voldemort had given the wizard was gone, the sleeve covered in blood as it fell from the wound in his arm, forming a quickly growing puddle where he sat.

“Severus, where have you been?” Wormtail spat angrily, although the effect was lost due to his quivering voice. “The Dark Lord has been waiting for you for hours.”

“That is none of your business,” Severus replied coldly, standing tall and throwing him a hateful look. “What’s happened here? Where is everyone?”

“They’ve run away, while they still could. The Dark Lord is not happy; he killed five Death Eaters for standing in his way while he was walking back to his quarters. He wants to see you, Severus, and I have the feeling you will share their luck.”

“Not all of us are disposable, Wormtail, you should have learnt that by now,” he said, although he knew the wizard was probably right. “Is he in his quarters?” he asked, and Wormtail nodded, cringing in pain at the sudden movement.

With one last, disdainful look at the wizard, Severus turned around, heading out of the room, but before he reached the door a high pitched, pleading voice stopped him.

“Where are you going?”

“The Dark Lord wants to see me, you said it yourself.”

“But won’t…won’t you heal me first?”

“Why would I do that?” he asked, not even turning around.

“Severus, please, at least stop the bleeding; I cannot use my wand to do it myself.”

“If the Dark Lord did that to you, then you probably deserve it,” he replied coldly.

“He will kill you,” Wormtail yelled after him as he finally left the room and walked down the hallway, “and I will be here to celebrate when it happens.”

Once more, Severus knew he was probably right; men like Wormtail, if he could be called a man, had a knack for survival. But then again, so did he.

As he moved closer to the Dark Lord’s quarters he could feel the anger in the very air around him, the magic dense even outside, and he took a moment to steel himself, to close his mind before reaching for the door knob.

The door opened before he had even touched it, and he hesitantly stepped inside. One look in Voldemort’s direction was enough to tell him his situation was much worse than he had thought.

Bracing himself for what was to come, Severus turned to close the door behind him, but before he could do it a silent curse hit him on the back, throwing him painfully hard against the door frame.

“Where have you been?” Voldemort’s voice thundered behind him as he scrambled to turn around and get up again. “My instructions were clear and simple. You were to go to the place I indicated, see if an object still remained where it should and then return,” he raged, a small flick of his wand throwing Severus across the room and against the opposite wall as soon as he had managed to stand. “It was a simple task, Severus,” Voldemort continued, pacing the room in front of him as Severus tried to ignore the pain and stand once more. He could feel the magic in the air around him, thicker as the minutes passed. “Still, it took you hours to return. What happened?” he asked, turning to him.

“I encountered unexpected company, Master,” Severus said, trying to remain calm even as he saw Voldemort’s features contort with rage.

“The object,” Voldemort hissed, his voice now so low and dangerous it sent shivers down Severus’ spine. “Was it still there?”

“No, Master. Someone had…”

“No!” Voldemort raged before Severus could finish, another wave of his hand lifting him up in the air, higher and higher until his back hit the ceiling, “Crucio!” Voldemort yelled next, making Severus arch in pain, high up in the air. He could feel the blood boiling in his veins, his limbs twisting painfully as he lost control of his body.

His head felt as if it was about to explode, his own screams of pain deafening him, a trail of blood falling from his nose and mouth to the floor beneath him.

“Master, please,” he managed to croak just as he was about to black out and Voldemort lifted the curse, lowering his hand and letting Severus’ body fall back down, the loud sound of bones breaking renting the sudden silence of the room as he hit the floor.

“I want to know what happened,” Voldemort said, his voice now eerily calm.

It took Severus a few moments to regain control of his body, his legs still shaking badly and his vision blurred. He was still weak from the curse that had almost killed him only hours before, and he wasn’t sure how much more his body would take.

“I went there like you sent me, Master,” he said, without even attempting to get up. He had no idea how many bones the fall had broken, but he could tell they were more than just a few. “I followed the trail of magic, like you had instructed, and found the place, but as soon as I entered I realized something was wrong,” he explained slowly, wanting to have enough time to recover before being cursed again.

“What?” Voldemort said, urging him to continue. Severus coughed a few times, tasting the blood in his mouth and wondered how serious the internal damage was.

“The Inferi that were there, Master,” he said, another fit of cough stopping him from continuing. With an exasperated sigh Voldemort waved his hand at him, and Severus felt part of the pain go away.

“Speak,” Voldemort hissed, the threat clear in his tone.

“They had been bound, some even slain. It looked like what Rabastan had described before you sent me on the mission.”

“Was there anyone else there?”

“No, Master.”

“And the object?” Voldemort asked, and Severus shook his head.

“Whatever it was, it had been removed.”

Voldemort stepped closer to him, a flick of his hand forcing Severus to his feet, the magic the only thing preventing him from collapsing on the floor again.

“Tell me exactly what you saw,” Voldemort hissed, his eyes flashing red his gaze locked with Severus’.

“The room was dark when I entered, but I instantly noticed the figures lying on the floor. I used a few spells to see if there was anyone alive in there, but there wasn’t; only then did I realize all the figures were Inferi,” he lied. “When I lit the room I saw part of the stone wall was missing, and the niche where you said I would find the object was empty. I assumed…”

“This is useless,” Voldemort hissed, reaching forwards and yanking Severus closer to him by the neck of his robes. “Do you see that?” he hissed, forcibly turning Severus around, so he was facing the other side of the room; three bodies he hadn’t noticed before were lying there. There was blood everywhere, and he noticed some limbs lying a few feet from the bodies.

“Yes, my Lord,” he replied, keeping his voice firm. He couldn’t show weakness.

“They were sent on missions much like yours; seemingly simple tasks set to supposedly worthy Death Eaters. They were sent to different places, to make sure certain objects remained in place. Their news was similar to yours, Severus, and you can see what happened to them,” Voldemort hissed by his ear, moving closer to the bodies so that Severus could have a better look. “Now, you have been a faithful Death Eater for years, and have served me well; I would hate for you to share their fate. Tell me something useful, or you will leave me no other choice,” he threatened, finally letting go of Severus, who fell to the floor once more.

“There was not much I could do there, since they were already gone, but…”

“But you clearly could do something; it is obvious from the wounds you had when you entered here that you did more than see the object was missing and leave. What happened?”

“It was evident from the state the Inferi were in that whoever had taken the object had left shortly before I arrived, so I followed them. They had performed powerful magic against the Inferi, and I managed to track it. They had left through the woods and…”

“Crucio!” Voldemort suddenly yelled, catching Severus unaware. His pained screams broke the silence again as he arched off the floor. He was too weak, his body too hurt to take any more, and after a few moments he welcomed unconsciousness.

The sudden peace barely lasted a few seconds.

The pain returned with a vengeance when Voldemort awoke him again. The spell he had used to lessen Severus’ pain had been broken by the Cruciatus Curse, and now he was even finding it hard to breathe.

“Do not test my patience, Severus,” Voldemort hissed, towering over him. “Tell me what happened. I don’t want the details, only the main facts.”

“I am sorry, Master,” Severus said, his voice hoarse from screaming. “It took me a few hours, but I finally managed to find them.”

“Who?”

“The Order. Only a few of them, those in the higher ranks. That is probably the reason why I wasn’t informed; for whatever reason, they kept it a well guarded secret.”

“Did they see you?”

“No. I was masked.”

“How did they know where to find it?” he hissed, his voice even lower than before as the air around them crackled.

“They saw me before I could find out, that is why I was wounded when I arrived. They attacked me.”

“And still they didn’t find out who you were?”

“No, Master. I stunned three and cursed another one, but they were too many, and I couldn’t fight them all.”

“How did you escape?”

“I had created a Portkey before following them, just in case. I activated it as soon as it was clear I couldn’t defeat them.”

“If you found them; if you followed them and even got close enough to hear them speak, why couldn’t you retrieve the object I sent you after?”

“I don’t know what that object was, but I heard them speaking about it. It was sent to Potter as soon as they retrieved it, and I gathered from what they said that it had already been destroyed,” he said, his eyes fixed on Voldemort, expecting him to attack again. He wasn’t mistaken.

Not bothering with the Cruciatus again, Voldemort waved his hand in Severus’ direction, and he found himself lifted from the floor and thrown against the wall. He could see the rage in Voldemort’s eyes as he walked closer to him.

“I do not accept failure,” he hissed, with another wave of his wand, and Severus screamed again, feeling his skin burn, although there was no fire. “I expected better from you,” he continued, and the burning stopped, replaced by deep cuts across his chest and arms. He could feel the blood pouring from the wounds and didn’t want to look down at the floor, knowing he would only see red.

“I’m sorry, Master,” he managed to groan before Voldemort’s cold hand wrapped around his neck, chocking him.

“Sorry is not enough,” he hissed, tightening his hold on him.

“Master, please,” Severus said, with the little air he had left in his lungs. “I know… I know who…”

“What?” Voldemort hissed, curious enough to loosen his hold slightly, allowing him to take a small breath.

“I know who…” He started coughing again before he managed to finish, his entire body shaking from the force of it.

“Speak!” Voldemort yelled angrily, his eyes flashing crimson as he flicked his fingers, another long, deep slash cutting across Severus’ chest.

“I know who the spy is,” he said, his head light from all the blood loss and the lack of air.

A hint of curiosity crossed Voldemort’s angered expression, and he lowered his hand again and stepped back, watching Severus collapse on the floor face down.

“Who?” he asked, his voice resounding all through the room.

Gathering all the strength he had left Severus moved his hands to either side of his chest and pushed himself up slightly, tilting his head up so he could see Voldemort in the eyes. He knew it was the only way he would survive, and he had to be believable. Taking a deep breath that caused another fit of cough he licked his dried lips and closed his mind tightly from any unwanted exploration. Hoping his voice would sound firm enough he licked his lips once more and spoke.

“Draco Malfoy.”