Feigning Death:
The fire was blazing in the hearth and his glass was full, but
Severus’s mind was far from relaxed. Thoughts whirred through his head as he
stared into the flames, knowing what he must do; trying with all the power he
possessed to prepare himself.
Damn you, Lucius. Brother, friend,
royal pain-in-the-arse. Why do I blindly follow your lead? I hate you, I truly
do. Bloody bastard. Why couldn’t you just bugger off when you had the chance?
Oh, yes. Because you have a taste for the dramatic. That bloody vow! Why
did I ever let you utter those words?
Severus shook his head bitterly. Such
thoughts were quite useless, and no matter what he told himself, he had been
very glad indeed when his oldest friend had stood up and saved him. It had
given him fresh hope, despite its source.
The only problem was the guilt he now faced in knowing what the
next step was to save them both. He utterly despised the idea of handing over
the boy and his family to the Dark Lord, but he also knew he had little choice
in the matter. Instead, he could carve a memory on his heart that would haunt
him forever. And pray that the boy’s loss would not be in vain. He swore to
himself, that if he lived through it, he would find a way to thank the
Pritchard family properly and somehow, he would pay penance for their deaths.
When at last the time they had agreed upon came, Severus returned
once more to his wardrobe and settled into the black robes that marked him as
Voldemort’s follower. He slipped the horrid mask into place and slid his wand
into the old familiar fold of fabric that had cradled it for years.
With a heavy sigh, he left his chambers and made his way to the
gates secluded deep in the Forbidden Forest once more. As soon as he was clear of
the spells on the castle and its grounds, he disapparated.
“Hello, Severus,” Lucius stood before him, mask and black robes
immaculate, as always.
Severus paused, wondering what was running through the other
man’s mind at that moment, but resigned himself to the knowledge that the
answer to such a question was something he would never know. “Lucius,” he
nodded to his old friend.
Lucius nodded as well, and together they made their way towards
the plain muggle home before them.
Severus felt his pace quicken. He felt the blood rushing through
his veins. He despised this rush, this excitement, but could not deny its
truth. There was a dark part of him that desired to kill, borne of the many
years of brutal and harsh training by both Lord Voldemort and Severus’s own
father.
But there was also an ache in his heart, and the same menacing
voice that had always chased him, telling him that what he was about to do was
wrong. He could not silence it, but he had been taught to ignore it.
Unfortunately, after all his years with Dumbledore, the voice had
grown louder, more insistent. And it now had the familiar sound of the old man
Severus had come to respect far too much for his own comfort. It was as though
Albus himself were standing behind Severus, whispering his disapproval. It
nagged at him, and it infuriated him that he had become so weak as to allow
someone to become that close and important to him.
He continued into the house, allowing the killer’s instinct to
take possession of him. He knew that he would not finish if he did not release
the inner demons. He hated the fact, but he heard Lucius’ words echoing in his
mind, "It does no good dwell on that which cannot be changed. Our past
has shaped our future, Severus. We have
no control over what happens as long as Voldemort reigns, and though you may no
longer wish to follow him, you cannot be rid of him."
His right hand twitched in an involuntary motion towards his left
forearm. He forced himself to stop and continue inside, on the heels of the
elder Malfoy. If his mask had not been firmly in place, the sneer on his lips
would have been quite apparent.
In the parlor, they found the woman who was surely Pritchard’s
mother, cooing to a toddler in her lap, and another small child sitting in
front of a muggle television. The woman looked up, and gasped. Terror was
apparent in her face, and she was rigid as stone. Her lips parted as though to
scream, but Lucius did not allow it.
“Avada Kedavra!” A flash of eerie green light, and mother
and the child in her lap were both dead.
Severus acted without thought. He shielded the other child from
Lucius’s actions and offered a comforting hand. The child took it willingly. He
led the small child from the room, and the girl was so entranced by this tall,
dark man before her that she did not notice the dead bodies of her family as
she was led gingerly around them.
“What is your name?” he whispered. His voice was silky smooth,
and filled with death. It was a voice he only used when on a kill.
The girl answered obediently, “Amelia.”
“That’s a very pretty name. Tell me, Amelia, how many brothers
and sisters do you have?”
“Two. Graham is my big brother. He goes to a very special
school. And Tommy is my little brother. He’s just two. He doesn’t go to
school yet. Graham says that I—”
Severus put a finger to
her lips to silence her. “Tell me, Amelia, where is your brother Graham?”
“He’s upstairs. In his room. Studying. He’s always
studying. He likes his school very much. He’s so—”
He shook his head and she stopped. “And where is your father?”
“The kitchen.”
“Thank you, Amelia.” He cradled the small child gently, and she
eagerly nestled close to him. She unquestioningly believed in her safety.
Severus pulled a small phial from his robes, “Here, Amelia, drink this. It will
help you sleep.”
She drank with happy obedience. She instantly fell still in his
arms. Still as only a small child cannot be. Dead.
He set her gently on the floor and brushed her eyes closed with
his hand. He folded her small hands innocently across her chest and stood.
Lucius was behind him in the doorway, and Severus knew that the
other man was looking at him in a way he did not wish to see, “The boy is
upstairs and the father is in the kitchen. There is no one else.”
Lucius nodded. “I’ll take the boy.”
“No, I will. He is my student and therefore my
responsibility. Get the father. Do with him as you wish. I would recommend,
however, that you save him for the Lord.” He brushed coldly past his partner
and moved soundlessly up the stairs.
He found the boy’s room
quickly. He was pouring over his potions text, of all things. Severus
hesitated, but only for a moment. He removed his mask and stepped inside the
room.
The boy turned and was about to speak, probably expecting his
sister, and froze in recognition. No terror, only surprise. “Professor! What
are you doing here?”
“Come quickly, Pritchard. I have something I need you to do.
There is no time to be wasted.”
The boy stood, not questioning his Head of House farther, “Yes,
of course. Let me get my wand.”
“No!” Severus said, perhaps a bit too strongly. “It won’t be
necessary. Just come as you are.” He had regained his composure and swooped out
of the room, the boy following loyally behind.
When Severus emerged from the stairwell, Lucius was waiting, with
the boy’s father standing there, a blank expression on his face.
“Get him out of here! I don’t want the boy to see him like that!”
he hissed.
Lucius paused and gave Severus a look that was hidden behind his
mask. Then he nodded and led the muggle out the door.
The boy came down the stairs and followed his teacher to the
door. When they passed the parlor, the boy saw his mother and brother lying on
the ground. He stopped, terror and shock now apparent on his face. Severus
cringed, but knew what he had to do.
“Imperio!” The boy looked at Severus, glossy-eyed,
awaiting his command. “Follow me. Do not look.”
When he met Lucius outside, he nodded. Together, they
disapparated to the meeting place.