Deligo Sanguis

Chapter Nine

I’d Rather Die

ONE

Severus was pacing. He’d been pacing for the past twenty minutes and showed no signs of stopping. The Dark Lord had called him thirty minutes before and left him alone in the Riddle House lounge, at which time he’d proceeded to pace across the spacious room. Twenty minutes later, he was no closer to figuring out what the megalomaniac wanted than when he’d arrived.

Severus had been sitting in his quarters at Hogwarts, grading the Gryffindor/Slytherin fourth year potions essays when his Mark had begun burning painfully. It was the middle of the night, and Harry had already left from his ‘detention’ so Severus had been quite alone when he was called. He’d informed Dumbledore at once, obviously, but now he was worried. He couldn’t imagine what the Dark Lord was planning that he would leave Severus waiting all alone for twenty minutes. He spun around quickly as he heard the door bang open, and watched apprehensively as a large group of Death Eaters filed in, forming a circle around him: a circle with no gaps in it. Severus swallowed hard, for a large lump had suddenly decided to take up residence in his throat.

‘Shit,’ he thought. ‘I’m a dead man.’ It was obvious almost at once that he’d been figured out, though he couldn’t imagine how that had happened. He stared around, hoping that perhaps he’d just missed the gap for him, but circle remained stubbornly completed.

The Death Eaters around him remained silent, but they seemed listless, small shivers traveling around the circle every now and then. After several tense moments, the Dark Lord entered through the still opened doors, closing them behind him with a bang. He moved to stand next to Severus, who went down to his knees with the other Death Eaters.

“Rise,” the Dark Lord said softly. Severus and the rest rose to standing, but Severus kept his head bowed, hoping against hope that he wasn’t about to be killed. He had a reason to remain amongst the living now, he did not intend to abandon the son he’d so recently discovered.

The Dark Lord began walking around the circle silently, pausing on occasion to observe one of them before moving on. At last he spoke. “Can any of you tell me why we have gathered here tonight?” he asked gently, almost affectionately, as though he actually cared about the group gathered around him.

“My Lord,” Goyle said, bowing low.

“Yes, Goyle?” the Dark Lord said. “You have something to say?”

“We have gathered to execute a traitor,” Goyle rasped. His voice had always been very gravely, as far as Severus knew. He wondered now, granted irreverently, how the man’s voice had become that way.

“Yes, Goyle,” the Dark Lord replied. “You have answered right. We have in our midst, a traitor. I shall admit to having been surprised at learning his identity, but I was not surprised that he could accomplish it. It takes a powerful mind to lie to the Dark Lord.” He turned toward Severus. “Severus has always had a very strong mind indeed.”

The circle stirred again, but no one dared to speak. Severus kept his head bowed, trying to find a way out of this particular situation. He had his emergency Portkey in his pocket, but with the Dark Lord watching him so closely; he knew he’d be dead before he could reach it.

The Dark Lord now walked toward Severus, moving slowly as though seducing a long lost lover. “Severus,” he purred. “How could you have believed that I would not discover your deception?”

“I am not that deluded,” Severus replied. “I knew you would find out eventually.”

“And still you went forward. You have always been foolish, Severus.”

“Perhaps.”

“What could be so important to you that you would betray me?”

Severus chose to remain silent. That question, so easy to answer less than a year ago, had suddenly become very loaded. He did not intend to tell the Dark Lord everything he knew. He would rather die than to betray the people who had placed their very lives in his hands.

“Not feeling talkative tonight, Severus?” the Dark Lord asked. “Perhaps I can persuade you. Crucio.” He spoke the spell casually, almost lovingly, but that didn’t stop it from hurting intensely.

Severus’ entire world melted away into a realm of agony. His concerns were nothing compared to the searing pain that was permeating right down to his bone marrow. His nerves were alight with it, his mind screaming at him to make it stop, whatever he had to do, just make it stop!

The pain stopped as abruptly as it had started and Severus heard the screams echoing around the large room before dying away, dimly aware that they were his own. He lay panting on his back, wondering stupidly how he’d ended up laying down. He’d been so certain that he was standing. How had he ended up on the floor?

The Dark Lord crouched next to him, gently pushing his hair out of his eyes. He cocked his head slightly, his terrifying red eyes watching Severus in seeming curiosity. “I understand that curse is rather painful,” he said, still stroking Severus’ hair. “Has it loosened your tongue?”

“Go to Hell,” Severus said through his ragged breaths.

The Dark Lord chuckled. “You’ve always had spirit, Severus,” he said. “It was one of the first things I noticed about you. It’s too bad you were such a waste. Crucio.” Again, it was said in a gentle manner.

Severus lost his awareness of the Dark Lord’s proximity to his person as the pain flared anew in his veins. It felt as though his blood was boiling. It felt as though every bone in his body had disintegrated to dust. It felt as though his nerves had all been spiked with tiny needles. It felt as though it lasted for hours, though when the curse was finally lifted, Severus knew that it couldn’t have been more than a few minutes.

“Tell me, Severus,” the Dark Lord said, running a finger down Severus’ cheek. “Did it never occur to you that I would have someone watching you over the Yule holiday at Hogwarts? Surely you didn’t believe that I would leave you there unchecked?”

Despite his desperate situation, Severus began to chuckle. “It never crossed my mind,” he replied, and incredibly, he was telling the truth. It never had crossed his mind over the holiday and now he felt like a complete moron. Of course the Dark Lord had someone watching him. Even Dumbledore had told Severus as much, but Severus had assumed that with the school so empty over the break that all of the student spies had gone home to their families.

The Dark Lord favored him with a humorless smile. He reached into Severus’ pocket and removed his wand. “That was your fatal mistake. My spy informs me that you were seen leaving the Gryffindor dorms with Harry Potter. My spy says that you seemed very close to the brat, as though you’d become friends. With such closeness to the nuisance, you could have easily lured him away from the protection of the castle. You had every opportunity to bring him to me. I would have rewarded you greatly for bringing my greatest enemy. Instead you chose to protect him, to befriend him and teach him your tricks.”

Severus wondered who could have told. His first thought was Draco Malfoy. That boy had every reason to get Severus out of the way. He wondered why it had taken him so long to draw this conclusion. It seemed so obvious. Harry had told him that Draco was jealous of the time Harry spent with his father. Informing the Dark Lord of his actions at Hogwarts would ensure that he was taken out of the equation. “Congratulations,” he rasped sarcastically.

The Dark Lord frowned and rose from his crouched position. “I see you have forgotten your lessons in respect,” he murmured. “You shall have to remember them.” He walked away, and Severus didn’t need to be told to know what was coming. As soon as the Dark Lord was no longer in the room, the rest of the Death Eaters laid into him, torturing him for hours before he finally lost consciousness.

TWO

Remus watched with concern as Albus paced back and forth in front of his desk. He’d been at Grimauld Place preparing for the Order meeting that evening when the fire had flared and Albus had asked him to come to Hogwarts. Remus had no idea what was going on, but he had an idea that it was bad, if Dumbledore’s pacing was anything to go by.

“Albus, what’s happened?” he asked when it became clear that the headmaster had forgotten he was there.

“Severus was called last night,” Albus said, not even turning to look at Remus. “He still has not returned. I am very worried.”

“Could it be possible that Voldemort’s sent him on a raid?” Remus asked.

Albus shook his head. “It is possible, of course, but I do not believe that is what has happened. He would have found a way to inform me if that is what happened. I believe he may have been discovered.”

Remus gasped, sitting back in his chair in surprise. Snape was the best spy Remus had ever seen. It seemed impossible that he would have been found out. Unfortunately, Albus seemed to think he had and that man’s shrewd ideas usually turned out to be fairly accurate.

Albus stopped his pacing at the window, looking out on the grounds with a pensive look on his face. After a moment, he turned to face Remus, leaning back on the windowsill. “I must ask you to help him, Remus,” he said.

“What can I do?” Remus asked at once. He may not have liked Snape, but he certainly didn’t believe the man deserved to die. No one deserved to die the way Voldemort was sure to kill Snape if he’d really been found out.

“Voldemort always holds his meetings at Riddle House,” Albus said. “If he has discovered Severus’ duplicity, that is where they will be holding him.”

“If they’ve really found him out, how do you know he’s still alive?”

“They will want information from him. He alone is in the unique position of being able to tell Voldemort things about Hogwarts and about Harry Potter that no one else would know. Severus will not give up that information, but Voldemort will torture him until he realizes that Severus is not going to tell him. It could take weeks for that to happen. I cannot leave Severus there to suffer for weeks on end.”

Remus nodded. “Where is Riddle House?” he asked. “Are there wards up that I should know about before I attempt Apparition?”

Albus seemed to deflate with relief. “Riddle House is in a place called Little Hangleton,” he said. “It’s a large manor house that is very run down. In the back there is a cemetery—“

“Is it where…?”

Albus nodded. “The very same,” he said. “Anti-Apparition wards are set up around the house, but not around the cemetery. In order to reach Severus, you will have to Apparate to the cemetery and find a way into the house from there.” They spent a half hour going over what Remus should expect based on the information Snape had given Albus regarding the house. Once Albus felt that Remus was as prepared as he was going to get, Remus left Hogwarts to make a rescue attempt in the very heart of Voldemort’s domain. He was not looking forward to it.

THREE

The smell of pain and death almost overwhelmed Remus as he appeared in the shady cemetery. Riddle House loomed like a giant relic over the cemetery, casting its shadow like a sentinel. Remus shuddered at the scents attacking his nose; the suffering in this place nearly brought him to his knees. He shook his head vigorously and steeled himself to get the job done. It wouldn’t help Snape if Remus couldn’t even get up to the house without becoming overwhelmed. Since it was midday, the house appeared virtually empty. Remus hoped that there weren’t too many Death Eaters there because, though he was a strong wizard in his own right, he didn’t have a lot of experience with dueling and knew that if he were severely outnumbered he wouldn’t make it out.

As he drew closer to the house, he threw the borrowed invisibility cloak over his shoulders, hoping against hope that the wards wouldn’t announce he presence to Voldemort. The last thing he needed was a showdown with the Dark Lord himself. Taking a deep breath, he moved toward the window and peered inside, his muscles relaxing when he saw the empty drawing room…

FOUR

The Dark Lord was crouching next to him, petting his hair again. “Why are you doing this to yourself, Severus?” he asked softly. “If only you’d tell me how to get into that school, I would let you die painlessly. Why don’t you help yourself and earn my mercy?”

Severus moved his hand as much as he could with the pain that was shooting up through his joints. “Come closer,” he rasped.

A look of undisguised anticipation came over the Dark Lord’s snake like features as he bent forward a little bit.

“Closer,” Severus rasped again. “I wish to tell you something.”

The Dark Lord bent low until his ear was directly over Severus’ mouth.

Severus gathered the last of his waning strength and grabbed a hold of the Dark Lord’s robes, pulling himself up until his lips were almost touching the psychopath’s ear. “Eat me, you snake faced piece of shit,” he murmured. “I would rather die than tell you.”

The Dark Lord straightened up slowly, his face contorted with anger, but when he spoke, it was very soft. “You disappoint me, Severus,” he said. “You know I can keep you alive and in pain as long as it is necessary to garner the information I want. You’ve seen me do it to others.”

Severus, for some reason he could not grasp nor understand, began to laugh hysterically. He thought as he laughed that perhaps he was going mad. He knew the Longbottoms hadn’t lasted as long as he had so far before they went mad. “I’ll never tell you anything,” he gasped through his laughing. The laughing was painful due to his several broken ribs, but it felt cleansing as well.

“I will find out what I want to know,” the Dark Lord said as he stood up. “It appears that you need more persuasion. Crucio.”

Severus’ laughing cut off abruptly as the pain spiked through him again. His back arched off the floor momentarily before his whole body curled in on itself in a futile attempt to escape from the pain. His throat was raw and bleeding slightly from all of the screaming he’d taken to doing recently, but he hardly noticed through the pain in the rest of his body. He prayed silently to any deity that would listen for it to just end, one way or another. ‘Forgive me, Harry,’ he thought desperately, for he didn’t know how he would ever survive this suffering.

FIVE

Remus crept down the stairs toward the terrible sounds he was certain only he could hear. He had to stop and grab hold of the stair railing when the scent of extreme pain wafted up toward him. He cursed his condition for making him so sensitive to such things before resuming his trek down the stairs, doing his best to ignore the scents and sounds that were reaching him. Once at the bottom, he saw an opened cell to the left. He moved in that direction, listening to the strained sounds emanating from the cell when he froze at the cold voice that spoke then.

“You are a fool, Severus,” the voice said, and Remus knew without doubt that it was Voldemort speaking. He passed the cell slightly and watched horror stricken as the deathly white wizard held his wand on Severus, who was curled into a tight ball on the floor trying to scream but unable to do so properly. The strained sound Remus had been hearing were Severus’ pained attempts at screaming.

“You could have been great,” Voldemort went on, still holding Severus under what was undoubtedly the Cruciatus Curse. “I would have given you power and glory. Now you will die, but only after giving me the information you have.”

Remus didn’t believe that Severus could even hear what Voldemort was saying. Suddenly Voldemort lifted the curse and stepped back slightly. “Don’t worry, Severus,” he said. “You will die, I promise you that. I only lament that yours is such wasted talent. You could have been there when I ushered the Wizarding world into a new age of glory. You could have been safe at my side, but instead you chose the losing side.” He crouched down next to Severus and pushed his hair away from his sweat and blood coated face. “Do not worry, my pet,” he murmured. “I’ll make sure that your precious colleagues don’t suffer too much. Their deaths won’t be nearly as painful as yours.”

“Get on with it then,” Severus said, his voice sounding gravely. “You’re only delaying the inevitable. I do not intend to tell you anything.”

Voldemort chuckled slightly. “We shall see about that,” he purred. “I have more ways than this of making you talk. In the end, I will have what you know.”

“Go straight to the seventh circle of Hell,” Severus grated.

“Tut, tut,” Voldemort said. He stood up and moved to the end of the cell. “We’ll see if we can’t loosen your tongue.” He cast a Cutting Curse over Severus, who gasped painfully, convulsed for a moment and then fell silent. Voldemort closed the cell with a loud clang, moving away and up the stairs out of sight.

Remus stood silently, waiting, hoping no one would approach before he could get Snape out of there. After about a quarter hour, he moved forward and pulled a knife from his pocket. This knife was exactly like the one Sirius had given Harry. Remus forcibly pushed thoughts of Sirius from his mind and pushed the blade in between the cell door and the bars, wiggling it up and down until he heard the click of the lock coming free. Remus opened the cell just wide enough for him to squeeze inside; thankful that the hinges didn’t squeak as he did so. He moved to kneel next to Snape.

“Severus,” he whispered. “Can you hear me?”

Snape remained motionless on the floor, blood pooling under him slowly.

Remus began searching Snape’s pockets for the Portkey that Dumbledore had said would be there. Dumbledore had told Remus that it was unlikely that the Death Eaters would have searched Snape for such a thing, but if it had indeed been taken Remus was to find a way to get Snape out of the building and Apparate in tandem with him to St. Mungo’s. Remus was hoping it wouldn’t come down to that.

“Where is it?” he muttered, searching through the pockets frantically. Dumbledore hadn’t given him his own Portkey because he said that if they’d found Snape’s, they’d know if another came onto the premises. He didn’t want to risk Remus as well, he’d said. “Aha!” Remus cried quietly as his hand closed over a small ball in Snape’s pocket. He pulled it out slowly, trying not to jostle Snape more than necessary. He grabbed Snape’s hand, placed the ball in it, covered it with his own hand and muttered, “Albus.” The Portkey activated at once; Remus felt the familiar tug behind his navel and the world began to spin out of control. Just as quickly as it started, it stopped and Remus found himself on the floor in Dumbledore’s office.

Dumbledore was up and at his side in a moment. “Is he alive?” he asked, placing his hands on Snape’s shoulder.

“Yes, but just barely,” Remus replied.

“Go to the infirmary and tell Poppy to expect us,” Dumbledore said. “We shall be there presently.”

Remus nodded and ran as fast as he could toward the infirmary.

SIX

Severus felt warm. It seemed that he’d been moved to a bed, which didn’t make sense because the Dark Lord would never put him on a bed. He slowly became aware of a hand holding his and he reflexively squeezed the fingers.

“Father?” a timid voice asked, a chair squeaking as the boy presumably sat forward.

Severus forced his eyes open. He realized first that he was at Hogwarts and that the infirmary was dark. ‘It’s night time then,’ he thought. The next thing he realized was that although he was still in pain, it wasn’t nearly as bad as it had been. He turned his head slowly to find his son sitting next to him, the shadows playing across his face making him look more worried than he was. Severus took a deep breath and squeezed Harry’s hand again. “Safe,” he whispered, trying to make it sound louder but failing spectacularly. “Safe,” he repeated, though he wasn’t talking about himself. He wondered how he’d been saved, but figured it didn’t matter as long as Hogwarts still stood.

“Yes, you’re safe, Father,” Harry replied, and Severus barely registered that Harry hadn’t called him ‘sir’ or ‘Severus’ but ‘Father’. As he fell back into a deep sleep, a small smile graced his features as one last thought found its way into his consciousness… ‘My son knows me…’


SEVEN

Harry realized at once that Severus had fallen back asleep, but at least he’d woken up. He’d taken to thinking of Severus as ‘Father’, trying to get a feel for the word in his mind. He realized that calling him that out loud probably provided a wealth of comfort, so he’d decided that he’d do it from now on, even though he still had trouble accepting Severus as his father. It didn’t matter to him that Severus would realize this as soon as he saw that the spell hadn’t cancelled. What mattered now was that he could help bring the man what comfort he could. After a long time, Harry decided that Severus wasn’t going to wake up again, so he got up and went back to Gryffindor Tower.

“How is he?” Hermione asked as soon as he entered. It was very late so the common room was empty aside from her and Ron. They both watched him with concerned expressions, making him thankful that he’d told them the truth about his heritage.

“He woke up for a second,” he said, sitting down next to her and leaning his head on her shoulder. He wanted to see Draco. He wanted to hold him and kiss him. He didn’t let on about what he wanted. He closed his eyes when he felt Hermione’s arm go around his shoulders.

“He’s really brave,” Hermione said.

Harry nodded silently.

“He’s strong too,” Hermione went on. “He’ll be okay.”

“Have they told you what happened?” Ron asked.

Harry shook his head. He knew his father had been discovered as a spy, but he didn’t know the extent of the torture he’d been put under. He wanted to weep, but his eyes remained dry.

“Have they told you anything at all?” Hermione asked.

Harry shook his head again, still not opening his eyes. The truth was, he had been told a few things, such as the fact that they suspected Draco might have been the one to feed information about Severus to Voldemort. This was part of the reason that Harry wanted to weep. Another part was that he didn’t believe it and he hated that others did. He certainly didn’t want to tell Ron and Hermione this; they already had enough reason to hate Draco.

“Are you okay, Harry?” Hermione asked.

“I just wish it would stop,” Harry whispered. “Why do the gods hate me so much?”

Hermione squeezed his shoulders. “The gods don’t hate you, Harry,” she said gently. “I can’t say why these things happen to you, but I’m sure that’s not it.”

Harry shrugged a bit. He was beyond caring. He just wanted his life to be normal. He was more than convinced that was impossible, but that didn’t stop him from wanting it. He prayed silently that Severus would be okay, and still the snarky git he was before he’d been discovered. He prayed he would still have his father in the end.