Refuge Has Its Price

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CHAPTER 8: IT TAKES ONE TO KNOW ONE


Severus stood stock-still, locked in deep thought, in the hallway from where Lucius had Apparated away on his assigned task only moments before.

Severus had known, since the night of the Dark Lord's victory, that Luna Lovegood was fated to become the Master's Consort. He hadn't spared the time before this to ponder just how the girl herself might react to her new lot in life. To be quite honest, with so much political turmoil to smooth over, and the Dark Lord's keeping him close by his side throughout it all, Severus hadn't thought of the girl at all.

Was there anything that he could possibly do to prevent this travesty? That question and a hundred possible alternatives raced through Severus' mind. He just as quickly discarded each possibility that popped up as literally impossible to carry out.

No. There was no way of helping it. Poor little fey child. Sometimes pawns, and even queens, must be sacrificed to win the game.

Severus closed his jet-black eyes for a moment, and regretfully sighed.

This would simply have to be one more black sin to stain his already ink-dark soul . . . to provide a living virgin sacrifice to this demon that was the Dark Lord.

Almost instinctively, his footsteps turned and followed the steep stone staircase down to the dungeons. Down towards the comfort, and familiarity, of what had been his 'home' for nearly twenty years of his life.

Severus didn't know where else to go.

The quicker the girl could be brought to his private rooms, the more time he'd have to attempt to help her as much as he dared.

He was already mentally going over his inventory. He had several potions and salves hidden away in his private stores that he wanted to get for the young witch.

He already had on hand several unguents and pain potions with which to make her maiden's plight more bearable both during, and after, the ordeal she'd surely be enduring this night. The rest he could set to brewing as the future Lady Voldemort healed, bathed, and attempted to mentally prepare herself in privacy.

Severus had witnessed the Dark Lord 'performing' many times during Death Eater revels. Contrary to what was widely alleged, not all wizards' were created 'equal', at least physically. Voldemort's 'equipment' was more than equal to the average wizard's. He also used his cock to punish, instead of to pleasure.

Severus wouldn't allow himself even to begin to imagine the terrors awaiting the poor little virgin on her wedding night. All he could offer her were things to soothe and heal.

If that was all the mercy that he could give the young witch, so be it.

At least it was something.

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Gregory Goyle sharply jabbed the tip of his wand between Luna's shoulder blades trying to hurry her along, even though both of the girls were already obeying everything that he ordered.

Gregory Goyle couldn't swim. He hated knowing that only the vaulted stone roof of these corridors, and a bit of muddy lake bottom, was all that kept a watery death from descending in a deluge upon him from above.

He attempted to disguise his fears, stemming from how deep they actually were under the Black Lake, but failed miserably.

Like all bullies, Gregory Goyle hid his own fears beneath the mask of cruelty and brutality toward others.

They'd only come up one or two levels within the dungeons when he suddenly turned them towards a vaguely more familiar corridor to their left.

Luna hugged Ginny more tightly about her waist as she pulled the docile girl even more quickly along; it seemed as if their destination was to be the Head of Slytherin House's office.

Surely things were now looking up for them, and Luna finally allowed a faint hum of some unknown, slightly off-key, tune to slip from her lips. Ginny shivered in her arms, and Luna gave her a comforting squeeze.

Goyle stopped before the closed door, pushed the two girls aside, and knocked.

The dark door slowly creaked open by itself, as it always did for any Slytherin who knocked. Goyle indicated for them to enter with a bossy nod of his thick head and final imperative jab of his wand pointing their way.

Luna pulled an unresisting Ginny even tighter against her side, and the pair tentatively stepped inside.

When the heavy ebony door again creaked and slowly shut behind them, Neville Longbottom leapt up from the bench where he'd been sitting.

"Luna! Ginny! You're alive!" he exclaimed as he exuberantly embraced them both.

Neville sobered as soon as he'd observed Ginny's lack of response and void expression. It reminded him of the blankness of his parents whenever he'd visited them in St. Mungo's with his Gran.

He silently led the girls over to share his bench, and gently helped Ginny to sit down.

With Ginny taken care of, Luna chose instead to wander around the office to curiously peer into the various jars and containers of pickled rare, ugly, creatures that made up Professor Snape's private little museum of intimidating horrors.

Thus it was, that only Luna Lovegood observed the hidden door at the very back of the office open to admit the dark Potions Master himself.

Neville simply assumed that he'd 'popped' in from thin air, as Snape approached them carrying a tray of steaming mugs of some kind of potion, or poison.

The young Gryffindor wasn't exactly sure what they contained. But either seemed to be just as likely, when served up by his own Boggart made living flesh.

Severus set the tray down on his mahogany desk and ordered them to "drink up".

Luna Lovegood arched a blonde quizzical eyebrow at him, Ginny Weasley just sat there zombie-like, and Neville Longbottom crossed his arms defiantly across his broad chest as he firmly shook his dark head in the negative.

The Potions Master gave an exasperated sigh, picked up one of the cups, and drank a long swallow from its' steaming depths. He sat the cup back down, and calmly took a seat behind his desk, impatiently crossing his arms across his broad chest.

After a full five minutes had passed, the Professor cocked an amused eyebrow up at his audience and said, "Obviously if I had intended to poison the lot of you, I wouldn't consume the potion myself or I'd be dead by now."

"What is it then?" suspiciously asked Neville.

Well, well! Apparently, the boy had finally discovered his own set of Gryffindor balls.

Perhaps there was still a reason to hope.

Severus gave a wry grin, and allowed his honest amusement to glimmer briefly across his normally sardonic visage. It amazed the young wizard and the one cognizant young witch watching him.


"It's simply a nutrition potion. I've only just learned that none of the prisoners has been given any food, water, or medical treatment. It's been three days now; to immediately eat any quantity of real food will have rather 'explosive' consequences on your malnourished bodies, Mister Longbottom," Professor Snape replied in his 'teaching voice'. "I had thought to spare all of you the physical indignities you would otherwise experience."

"By consuming this potion, your depleted cells will be replenished, properly balanced, and better able to heal. That is what we'll be moving on to next . . . if you'll simply follow my orders instead of relying upon your foolish assumptions." Severus paused to give a bored perusal to his manicure.

His nails had never been cleaner or smoother; Lucius' house elf really did a fine job of it.

Perhaps he'd allow his personal house elf, Gristle, to learn the technique for his continued benefit. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched as Luna hesitantly reached for one of the cups.

Neville's hand stopped her in mid-reach. He manfully took up the cup in her stead, and drank it down in three long choking swallows.

"Bloody hell! That's nasty!” he exclaimed and repeatedly wiped at his lips, as if to take away the bitter flavor.

After only mere seconds, Neville's color was much improved; he felt stronger, and was no longer hungry. He smiled at Luna, then nodded in acknowledgement of its safety.

Luna took up a cup for herself, and daintily sipped at it, although her nose crinkled up at the potion's horrid smell and flavor. "Thank you for the potion, sir," Luna politely said as she replaced the now mostly empty cup on the tray.

She paused, and then gently chided, "Sir? Is there any reason that it should taste and smell so horrible? You are a brilliant Potions Master, after all. Can the taste be improved upon without compromising the effectiveness? If so, think of all the hungry and now orphaned young children that it could keep alive."

It was the longest, most consecutively coherent statement that either Severus Snape or Neville Longbottom had ever heard spill out of Loony Lovegood's mouth at one time, ever.

Neville looked to be pleased as punch at her implied insult to the Professor.

Severus felt his nostrils quiver in his indignation that this mere slip of a chit, one that he'd actually pitied earlier, should even dare to criticize one of his better inventions.

It'd been on the market for years now and had done quite well for him financially, thank you very much, despite its truly awful flavor.

In fact, if not for his nutrition potion, several long-term-care patients at St. Mungo's, Longbottom's parents among them, would have long since starved themselves to death.

"I'm sorry sir. I didn't mean to seem rude or ungrateful," Luna softly said with downcast eyes.

Severus gave a brusque nod of acknowledgment at the girl's apology, and turned his gaze towards Ginny as he forgave Luna with a simple change of subject.


"How has Miss Weasley been these past few days? Has she shown any signs of awareness at all?" he asked Luna, his deep baritone warming with concern for the only surviving member of the Weasley clan.

At least he assumed her to be the only surviving member, as neither George nor Bill Weasley's bodies had ever been found.

Maybe they'd somehow managed to escape during all the confusion of the final battle and the great surrender; Severus had no way of knowing.

Lately it had seemed too much to hope for, that somehow the Light still had a few warriors left alive. It was far more likely that they'd simply ended up as werewolf food.


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Those horrible creatures had been sent out among the scavengers ordered with the cleaning up and removal of the dead from the battlefield.

The werewolves had eaten and eaten, regurgitated whole chunks of flesh, clearly recognizable as human, and then greedily consumed it again; like dogs, they'd turned to their own vomit.

It had even sickened Lord Voldemort himself.

The Dark Lord had personally 'Avada'd a score of the obscenely evil creatures when he'd seen the nauseating display with his own eyes. He had then sent out every one of his junior Death Eaters to retrieve and record the bodies instead.

He'd ordered a proper burial for all of the fallen dead, Death Eater and enemy alike.

Every deceased person's pertinent information was duly recorded in the Vital Statistics department within the Ministry. Their respective graves were all given simple markers, at Ministry expense, so that their grieving families had a physical location to come to mourn their lost loved ones.

Voldemort actually did have a huge amount of respect and care for all things magical, even the magical dead. Besides, the properly buried dead usually didn't walk or haunt the living.

It was always good to 'nip that causality in the bud', so to speak, and it gave his youngest Death Eaters an outlet to usefully burn off some of the adrenalin still pumping them up from the battle.

By the time that they'd finished digging so many holes, even with the aid of magic, they'd be far too exhausted to be concerned about their tired dicks at all, much less the dipping of them into any captured pussy.

Voldemort was pleased with his inventiveness, both for usefully occupying his troops, as well as for the 'good press' that such a generous action by him would generate. This could only be perceived by the Wizarding World at large as one more good reason to willingly accept the Dark Lord's control.

Severus had been too physically fatigued, and still weak from Nagini's attack, to ponder it through just then. However, he made a quick mental note to put the memory of these odd actions of the Dark Lord's into his Pensive.

He'd take them out and view them privately, later, with a much clearer head.

Something seemed different about the Dark Lord since Potter's death, if only he could just put his finger on it. Maybe it was just the Master's relief, stemming from his victory, which seemed to alter his personality. Perhaps, it was simply the Dark Lord's form of rejoicing at finally having everything he'd always wanted in his life.

Perhaps it was only a trick of his hopeful imagination.

Hopeful thoughts were such extremely rare creatures in Severus Snape's life, after all.

Maybe . . . just maybe . . . it was something else entirely. Could it possibly be . . . something . . . miraculous?

No. That was more than Severus dared allow himself to even begin to believe in. Things are the way they are. He mustn't attempt to read more into things than were really there to see.

No. It had to be just wishful thinking, that's all.

Besides, miracles were as extraordinarily rare a breed of creatures as Crumple-Horned Snorkacks within Severus Snape's hard life. Moreover, he didn't believe in either one.


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"No sir," Luna's soft sing-song voice brought him back to his surroundings with a sudden jerk. "She's been just the same since her mother's death. She even sleeps with her eyes open, I think. It seems as if she's retreated so deeply into herself, that she simply can't find her way back out."

Severus nodded his understanding, and focused all of his thoughts inward on various obscure and arcane potions and spells used to treat mental illnesses.

Off hand, he couldn't think of anything in his extensive repertoire of knowledge to combat this particular problem, the total loss of the love and security of her family.

If only it were as simple as a lost love. There were at least twelve potions for that; however, she would never be able to remember the person's existence anymore.

That is exactly why Severus Snape had never availed himself of that particular form of sweet oblivion.

He'd been unwilling to give up the only truly happy, innocent, memories from his abused childhood; his memories of Lily Evans.

Even with an inherited mental instability, two simple (but the darkest of the dark arts) draughts could fix that right up, although it always cost the brewer their own sanity in return.

Just look at Bellatrix. She'd not only been quite beautiful, but also brilliantly intelligent, and extremely talented in Potions herself, once upon a time.

Bellatrix Black Lestrange truly idolized her family, but she'd never had any children through no fault of her own. The Wizarding World in general had thought her unable.

Bella loved her sister and her newborn nephew with all of her heart. She doted on the infant as if he were her own. Draco had been diagnosed as a hopelessly autistic schizophrenic child at age three.

Bella had brewed a dark healing potion and fed it to the child over the course of an entire lunar cycle, losing a bit more of herself each night.

Draco had never shown any further signs of the Black family madness because of his aunt's sacrifice.

He'd eventually matured to become a bright and gifted young wizard, solely thanks to her, and Bella had never once complained of the personal cost to herself. Now the boy was dead.

That was the only real problem with using dark magic. There was always a terrible price to be paid all around.

Far better simply to be patient, give Miss Weasley good basic supportive care, and hope that, in time, the girl healed on her own.

He nodded his dark head again, this time in silent agreement with himself.

When his black eyes met Luna Lovegood's soft dove-grey gaze, she smiled and nodded herself . . . just as if she'd been following his every thought to its' conclusion right along with him.

It was quite unnerving to Professor Severus Snape, Master of Occlumency, to say the least. She'd done it so gently, that he'd never even felt her attempting to touch his mind.

Perhaps the chit would be able to survive the Dark Lord after all.

Luna smiled serenely, blushed, and slowly nodded her pale-haired head. Her gentle eyes held the wisdom of the ages within them as she calmly met his ebony stare.

A flair of soul-deep recognition resounded within the dark wizard.

This child held Eildarvitch blood within her; of that fact he had no doubt. The bloodline always called to the others who also held it. Severus had inherited his own Eildarvitch blood from his mother, Eileen Prince. It ran strongly throughout the Prince line.

His Eildarvitch blood was the very reason why he was so gifted in Occlumency and Legilimency himself. It was also the reason that he could effortlessly perform wandless magic.

The Eildar's had had their powers before wands had ever been invented to channel magic through, from the dawn of time, when men had still worn skins and hunted their food with stones, clubs, and spears. They were the very first of humanity to harness the powers of magic, and learn the gift of herbs; both for healing, and for bringing death.

As the Muggles always said, "It takes one to know one." How he had never before 'picked up' on that fact about this child was an absolute mystery to the Potions Master, although it was probably because he'd mostly ignored little Loony Lovegood whenever it had been possible.

Most people did, except for those who mocked or abused her for their own amusement and feelings of superiority.

Harry Potter had been her very first real friend; the very first one really to "see" Luna for her talents and gentle spirit. They were both marked by tragedy, and were both different from their classmates, through no fault of their own; outsiders looking in, so to speak.

They'd struck up a friendship of sorts, but unbeknownst to Harry, she'd fallen in love with him.



Unlike Ginny Weasley (who had fallen in 'crush' with the Boy-Who-Lived, and the idea of being in love with the hero who'd so valiantly rescued her from the Chamber of Secrets), Luna had truly fallen for 'just Harry', and not just the hero that everyone else expected him to be.

She'd never let it be known by even a single word or gesture. He'd had another destiny apart from her, but her heart simply wouldn't listen to her head at the time.

Now Harry's body lay at rest beside his mother and father in the simple, but rundown, cemetery in Godric's Hollow.

Voldemort himself had given the orders concerning the disposition of Harry's mortal remains, to the utter amazement of all of his supporters.

To Luna, it was merely one more reason to begin to think well of the Dark Lord. She was a Ravenclaw, after all, and had full-knowledge that history was written by the victors, not the defeated.

Perhaps what everyone had been saying about He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named all along had not been entirely accurate.

Perhaps they'd exaggerated and concentrated only on all of his evil deeds, and had omitted the good things about him, even if there was only a single redeeming factor still left in the man.

Perhaps she was only blowing smoke up her own arse to keep her fear at bay. She'd clearly seen exactly what was worrying the dark Potions Master before her concerning her fate.

And it had truly frightened her.


End of Chapter 8


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A/N: Just a brief note of thanks to the lovely DG from admin, for all of her patient help in teaching me how to post on AFF. She went above and beyond the "call of duty" in helping a complete stranger. If not for her, you wouldn't be reading this story right now. Thank you very much, my dear. signed: Victoria Prince, the author of this story

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