A Song for Severus ~ (Not Update, but Edit)

Chapter 6 ~ A Disturbing Discussion

In a small stone room sparsely lit by torches, several Death Eaters sat deep in discussion. Peter Pettigrew, Jonathan Wilkes, Elizabeth Yaxley, Devon Rosier and Fenrir Greyback, who, although in his human form, was snarling.

“I see no reason for it,” the werewolf said, the torchlight making his eyes glint unnaturally, “We are fine as we are.”

Fenrir was fiercely independent and had hated being under Voldemort’s thumb when the despot was alive. He was adamantly against what the others were suggesting.

“We need to be unified,” Elizabeth said, looking around at her comrades, “We are wasting our energies and accomplishing nothing the way we are now. Voldemort’s dream cannot be allowed to die. A new Lord would bring us together. We would mean something again. The tenets of Pureblood superiority will once again become respected by the wizarding world. ”

“Where would we find someone as strong and cruel as Voldemort?” Jonathan asked.

“We wouldn’t have to find him, we would have to create him,” Elizabeth replied, her eyes shining, “Tom Riddle was not always so powerful. It was the elixir that gave him his power. The chosen leader could take the elixir. I am sure Severus Snape still knows the formula.”

“Taking the elixir can be fatal,” Peter Pettigrew said with a shudder. He remembered how painful it had been for Voldemort to continuously take the elixir. His first transformation nearly killed him.

“Whoever wants the position of the new Dark Lord would have to be willing to face the possibility of death in order to assume the throne,” Devon said, thinking he would like a chance to assume power.

“This is madness…we don’t need another Dark Lord controlling us. I am enjoying the random slaughter,” Fenrir growled.

“It serves no purpose other than allowing us to relive a dead past. The revels are meaningless. No one is even aware we are still active. We act like frightened children, hiding the bodies of the dead. No one fears us any longer. We need to come together…we need to take our rightful place in the wizarding world. They won’t expect it. They’ve grown lax and lazy since Voldemort’s death,” Elizabeth hissed.

“How would a leader be chosen? It would be chaos with everyone clamoring to be picked,” Devon said.

“Duels. To the death, with the two strongest wizards facing off, the purpose being to overcome, rather than kill. That way, if the winner dies from the elixir, we will have another suitable choice to assume the throne. Anyone interested in assuming power would have to be willing to die for the opportunity,” Elizabeth said.

“I still don’t like it,” Fenrir said.

“What if YOU were the next Dark Lord, Fenrir…you’d like it then, wouldn’t you?” Elizabeth shot at him.

The werewolf looked shocked, then thoughtful. Yes…he would like to be the leader of the Death Eaters. The elixir would enhance him beyond his werewolf form. He could do what he liked…create an army of werewolves out of the ranks if he wished. No one could deny him or it would be considered treason, punishable by death. And oh, what deaths he would inflict…victims beaten, tortured then torn apart by werewolves on the night of the full moon. Fenrir’s tongue lolled out at the thought. Since he was in human form, the effect was quite disturbing.

“Yes, I would like it,” he breathed. As a werewolf, he was physically tougher than a totally human wizard. Most likely he would be able to survive the elixir.

“I think we should put it to a vote with the rest of our ranks,” Peter said.

“No. No, this isn’t a damn democracy. We will simply spread the word that we are looking for a new Dark Lord and let those interested approach us. Those who have the Mark will have no choice but to accept him after he is transformed. He will have control of the Summons,” Devon replied.

“What makes you so sure ‘he’ won’t be a ‘she?’” Elizabeth asked Devon, who looked at her with narrowed eyes.

“You mean to face death for the chance, Elizabeth?” he asked her. Elizabeth was quite deadly.

“Possibly. I will have to consider it. I will definitely lose my good looks,” the witch said, tossing her blonde hair, “But in exchange for the power…I might be willing. As the Dark Lady, I will still have my choice of lovers.”

The other Death Eaters fought back a shudder. If her transformation was anything like Voldemort’s, any unfortunate Death Eater she chose would most likely need a powerful sex spell to perform. Voldemort had been ghastly. A female would be a thousand times worse.

Fenrir looked at Elizabeth with narrowed eyes. Competition. He growled low in the back of his throat. Elizabeth heard it, and looked at him…her own blue eyes narrowed.

“You’d have to face me,” Fenrir snarled.

“And that means what, Fenrir? You are like any other wizard when the moon isn’t full. I could kill you,” Elizabeth replied, her hand moving toward her pocket, ready to draw her wand.

Fenrir actually showed his teeth at her.

“I doubt that witch,” he hissed.

“Well, we just might have to see about that,” Elizabeth replied coolly.

“Enough of this. If you both wish to go for the throne, then you will submit your names like everyone else, “ Jonathan said, frowning at the both of them.

Both Elizabeth and Fenrir fell silent, but continued to glare at each other.

”What about Bellatrix?” Peter said, running his hand over his almost bald head nervously. “She claims the Dark Lord is going to return. Maybe she’s found a way to resurrect him. If she’s telling the truth, things could go badly for us.”

“Bellatrix is insane. Voldemort is gone. Fuck her,” Devon said. “She’s hardly around anyway.”

”That’s what worries me,” Peter responded, “What is she doing?”

”Who the fuck cares? Bella is just one Death Eater. Personally, I’m glad the sick bitch doesn’t come around often. She’s completely off her crown,” Devon said, “And Peter, you fucking worry about everything. You’re a coward and always have been one. Gryffindor my ass.”

Peter wished he had kept the silver hand the Dark Lord rewarded him with for resurrecting him in Harry's fourth year. He would have transformed it into a sharp sword and run Devon through before he knew what hit him. But his hand had been restored to flesh by Voldemort, because he had used it to kill several Death Eaters he had altercations with, and the despot no longer trusted him.

When Voldemort took the elixir, he was vulnerable for several minutes. Peter could kill him then, since he was the one who administered the elixir. The Dark Lord wasn’t taking any chances. Not that Peter would ever have had the courage to do such a thing.

“So are we agreed? The search for the new Dark Lord has begun?” Devon asked his companions. One by one, they said “aye” with Peter hesitating the longest before agreeing.

“Fine. The first thing we must do is contact Severus Snape. We need his abilities,” Devon said.

Peter thought he might be able to brew the elixir, he had watched Severus prepare it so many times, but he said nothing. He didn’t want the responsibility, and besides…he wasn’t so great at brewing.

Let Severus recreate the Devil.

*****************************************

Severus was sitting in Hermione’s living room, reading over a hypothesis she had written concerning the true workings of the Cruciatus curse, how it affected the body and possible ways to nullify it magically. She would be presenting it to her Charms Professor at the end of term. She had been working on it since the beginning of her third year of university.

There were a number of cadavers at the university, the unclaimed bodies of unfortunates who had died from the sustained application of the curse during Voldemort's reign, and Hermione spent a lot of time examining them. One of the wonderful things about the magical world was that a corpse could be put under stasis and next to no decomposition would occur, no matter how many years had passed. Since muggle medicine nor autopsies were not practiced or performed in the wizarding world, Hermione had done her own study of these techniques in preparation for her paper.

The witches and wizards in the mortuary had simply been curious when Hermione came down to the bowels of the university, with a book in hand, to do research. She created a sloped, metal table with a hole in one end and a bucket beneath it.

“Put the cadaver here,” she instructed.

The naked body of a man of approximately thirty years of age was placed on the table, his feet near the hole. His face was horribly contorted, and his body colored the deep crimson/black that all who died of the curse evidenced.

When Hermione reached into her pocket, the staff expected her to draw her wand. But she drew a small white mask, a pair of latex gloves and a little rolled bag. She set the bag on the table, unrolled it and revealed a number of wickedly sharp instruments. She then reached into her other pocket and pulled out another rolled bag. This one contained several capped test tubes, tweezers, a dish and a small bottle of alcohol. She poured a bit of alcohol into the dish.

“What in the world are you going to do with those?” one horrified staff member asked her.

”Examine the body,” Hermione replied coolly, putting on the mask and pulling on the gloves. She opened the book and leafed through it, opening it to a well-worn page. Then she looked up at the witches and wizards standing around her.

“I suggest you either get masks or move a distance away,” she said, “I’m going to remove the stasis spell on this body and only have a little time before accelerated decomposition starts setting in. It’s going to stink and I don’t think it will be particularly healthy to breathe in.”

”You’re going to remove the stasis spell?” a wizard said incredulously. Most examinations were done by magic with the spell in place. Then the cadaver could be reused.

“That’s what I said, isn’t it?” Hermione replied, sounding a bit exasperated. She didn’t have time for stupid questions. There was research afoot.

“But…but…” the wizard stammered.

“Listen, I requisitioned this cadaver for my use…and I’m going to use it. Now either cover up or move away,” Hermione said, pulling out her wand and removing the stasis spell. Quickly she picked up a sharp scalpel, swished it in the alcohol and taking a look at the book, placed it at on the right shoulder and carved a deep incision down to the breast bone, the staff around her gasping and falling back as black blood oozed from the cut. Hermione quickly cut down the left shoulder, that incision also meeting at the breast bone. Then she made a long cut all the way down to the pubic bone.

She heard the sound of retching behind her and grumbles of “mutilation” as she used the scalpel to carefully peel back the skin, muscle and soft tissue, then pulled the chest flap over the cadaver’s face, revealing the ribcage and neck muscles. Then she really went to work, cutting both sides of the ribcage, separating it from the tissue behind it and with some effort, pulling it from the body.

Fluids drained down the metal table, through the hole and into the bucket. The staff at university had never seen such a terrible sight as Hermione removing organs, flesh and whatever else she deemed important, placing samples in the test tubes and putting stasis spells on them. The scent of decomposition was growing stronger, the flesh and organs of the cadaver becoming dark and slimy. By the time Hermione finished her examination, she was alone. Everyone had fled. She did her best to put everything back inside the cadaver, and using her wand, sealed up the flesh. It was a bit lumpy. She replaced the stasis spell on the remains, which looked horrible. They wouldn’t be using this wizard again.

Hermione scourgified the table, the fluids and left the cadaver there for the staff. She had what she needed…for now.

Hermione had been brought before the Dean concerning her treatment of the body, but explained why she did what she did and why she had to use muggle methods for this examination since magic couldn’t tell her what she needed to know. After an hour, the Dean let her go without any repercussions. He had looked at Hermione’s records for any inconsistencies in her behavior or classes and found she had the best marks in the school as well as at Hogwarts. She was a brilliant witch…and despite the unsavoriness of her methods, she might be on to something. He wasn’t about to curtail her.

Now Severus read over her draft, his eyebrow arching from time to time as he read her hypothesis that the application of the Cruciatus curse caused the cells of the body to begin consuming themselves, and if the spell was held on an individual too long, the body would become unable to continue functioning because of the destruction of blood vessels and arteries that carried the blood. The organs were damaged as well, but it was the loss of circulation that killed the individual. The blackening of the body was from the blood that had no place to go, so spilled over and filled whatever space was available.

Hermione believed that if the collapse of the circulatory system could be arrested, then a person could withstand a long term application of the curse with less pain, though there would be some damage to the organs. It wasn’t a solution to the curse, but a start.

Severus put down the paper and looked at Hermione, who was watching him anxiously.

“You need to suggest ways how to protect the circulatory system, and the process you would follow to do so. I think it is safe to assume some muggle techniques would be necessary. You need to add those techniques in detail to flesh it out. The theory is quite interesting…but more is needed to make a good paper into an outstanding one. As it is, you leave the reader curious. Curiosity is not enough. You need to make the reader believe what you are suggesting is actually doable,” Severus said to the witch, who nodded.

“Mind you, this paper will not be looked on kindly…in fact, properly done, it will shake up quite a few wizened elders who believe muggle practices are barbaric. I assure you hundreds of rebuttals will be written to refute what you’ve compiled here. You have to make it ironclad to be taken seriously. Some won’t even be able to get through your…autopsy is it?” Severus asked her.

“Yes,” Hermione replied, “An autopsy.”

Severus looked at his witch. Hermione had actually cut open a body and took it apart as it decomposed. She probably would have made an excellent Death Eater. He shuddered a little at the thought of it.

“You have a strong constitution,” he said to her, standing up, walking over to the couch and handing Hermione the papers. “Not many wizards or witches could stomach carving up a dead body.”

”It was important I do it. I couldn’t have learned anything otherwise,” Hermione said, straightening the draft a bit self-consciously.

“You never cease to amaze me with how far you’re willing to go in search of knowledge,” the wizard said, sitting down next to Hermione “You never go half-measure…in anything. With you, Hermione…it is all or nothing.”

That was one of the aspects Severus appreciated about Hermione. Her drive. Once her mind was set on an objective, there was no stopping her. On occasion he’d have to force her to stop studying to eat, or bathe, she would be so caught up. Just wait until she graduated and was free to pursue her own ends. She would be a boon to wizarding society. She only had two years of university left. Severus hoped this business with Bella and the Death Eaters would be over by then, and his relationship with Hermione could advance. He wanted to marry the witch before some other wizard snapped her up.

Although he had not yet told her, Severus loved Hermione and could not imagine her out of his life, now that she had brought a new dimension to it. Her brilliance, her passion, her ability to touch his soul dark soul with her light was something he did not want to move beyond his grasp. Hermione made him feel normal and deserving of happiness, something he never felt before becoming involved with her. She was also a very independent witch who challenged him as much as she attracted him both intellectually and emotionally. This kept their relationship fresh and a bit volatile.

Hermione had no problem letting the Potions Master know when he overstepped her boundaries. For example, Severus was extremely jealous and hated when any wizard took up any of her time. This jealousy even applied to Harry and Ron, who he believed had designs on her and were using their friendships to wriggle their way closer to her.

“Severus, I am not breaking off my friendship with Harry and Ron just because they have penises,” she told the scowling wizard, “And I’m not going to have you lurking about in the shadows when I interact with other wizards. You’re just going to have to handle this, Severus…and if you can’t…we’re going to have to go our separate ways.”

Not wanting to lose Hermione, Severus learned to repress his jealousy and hold his tongue, a very big concession for the wizard. But he soon found out relationships were all about concessions.

Since their relationship was a secret, Severus couldn’t even confront a wizard he thought was making a move on Hermione. That was the worst part…she appeared single and unattached when she wasn’t. It was a source of constant aggravation to the Potions Master and many nights he expressed his claim on and need for her in a very ardent and physical manner that left her breathless…and walking funny.

For the most part however, they were compatible. Yet, as compatible as they were, Severus knew she was unhappy with him…with his secretiveness and his disappearances. In the beginning, when the absences were short, Hermione accepted that the Potions Master had a duty to do. She knew it concerned the remaining Death Eaters, but that was all she knew. She had no idea what they were up to, and like the rest of the wizarding world, considered them impotent and little threat now that Voldemort was gone.

Severus couldn’t tell her any different.

His black eyes washed over Hermione as he sat next to her, then he slipped an arm around her shoulder.

“You know witch, that reading that paper has had quite an effect on me,” he said to her in his silkiest voice.

“Oh really? And why is that?” Hermione asked him playfully. She knew what he was working up to.

“You know intelligence turns me on. Reading that paper had the same effect on me as reading good erotica,” he purred, nuzzling her hair with his nose.

Hermione laughed, moving away from him a bit. Severus tightened his hold on her shoulder.

“What do you say witch, to my giving you a full body massage while you recite that…that “periodic table” to me,” he suggested, his dark eyes starting to glitter.

“Full body?” Hermione asked him as he began to rub her shoulders gently.

“Full,” he breathed, “Inside and out.”

Hermione felt her body relax under his talented hands.

“That sounds good,” Hermione sighed.

“It will be,” Severus promised.

Giving Hermione’s shoulders a final squeeze, he stood up and offered the witch his hand. They were just about to walk down the hallway to Hermione’s bedroom when a tap sounded on the window.

Both Severus and Hermione looked toward the noise. There on the sill stood an owl with a letter attached to its leg.

Severus scowled at the interruption as Hermione walked over to the window and pulled it up. The owl stuck out its leg and she removed the letter. It flew away, not even hanging about for a treat.

That was how Devon Rosier trained her.

Hermione turned the letter over in her hands.

“It’s from Rosier Jewelers,” Hermione said to Severus, “Addressed to you.”

Hermione handed Severus the letter. He opened it and scanned the contents, Hermione looking at him curiously.

“Mr. Rosier wants to have lunch with me. He was my contemporary at Hogwarts. Probably wants to sell me a bit of jewelry,” Severus said lightly. But he was concerned. He knew this had something to do with the Death Eaters. He only hoped his meeting wouldn’t be the beginning of another long disappearance.

“I didn’t know you knew Devon Rosier. His jewelry is quite nice,” Hermione said, her brow furrowed. There was something more to this. “When does he want to meet you?”

Severus looked at her.

“In half an hour,” he replied.

Hermione scowled. Severus was notorious for requiring at least two days notice before he would accept any invitation.

“And you’re going to go?” she asked him pointedly.

Severus sighed inwardly.

“Yes. Just to see what he wants,” the wizard said, his heart dropping at the look Hermione gave him.

“When will you be back?” she asked, crossing her arms over her chest.

Severus really didn’t know.

“It shouldn’t take long,” he said lamely, hoping it wouldn’t. He hoped this was a real lunch date and not a descent back into the insanity. He had just gotten back. Hermione might not let this one go if he didn’t return.

“I’ve heard that one before,” Hermione said shrewishly, “Just go Severus. So much for the periodic table.”

Severus wanted to say he was sorry, but he knew Hermione wouldn’t believe him. He kissed her hand.

“I’ll be back,” he said, wrapping his robes around himself and disapparating with a crack of thunder.

Hermione looked at the empty space the Potions Master had just occupied.

“Yes, you’ll be back,” she said softly, “But when, Severus? When?”

The witch picked up her draft with a sigh and headed for her bedroom.

Alone.

***********************************
A/N: Annnnnd, the plot thickens. Good gods…could you imagine Fenrir as the new Dark Lord? Jeez. Bella is going to have bugbears over this. I have no idea how Severus is going to react to the news that they want to create a new Dark Lord. Well, we’ll find out what happens. It’s pretty easy to see why Hermione is pissed about this. Severus has no good excuses at all, and she automatically seems to believe he’s lying to her. Thanks for reading.