Feigning Death
Chapter Seven
They
apparated into the circle and Severus bowed before his former master once
again. He refused to look the Dark Lord in the eye. Instead he kept his head
bowed and awaited the judgment to come stoically. He could feel Lucius beside
him, and was sure that the blond was taking in the sights and was afraid of the
pleasure his friend might be finding in all of this, and shoved away the
memories of the pleasure he too would once have known.
When
commanded to, Severus released his student from his spell reluctantly, but
obediently, loathing himself ever more as each moment passed. He watched
Pritchard carefully and felt alarm as the boy showed no fear and approached the
Dark Lord with an eagerness that Severus was all too familiar with. A voice in
his head screamed, but there was nothing he could do but watch in silence and
horror as the boy listened intently to Voldemort’s honeyed words.
All
his work before that had ended in naught had been painful enough, but now that
he had begun again with this sadistic game of cloak-and-daggers, he felt the
bile rise up as he watched the boy’s eyes light up at the Dark Lord’s promises.
Once more, he was failing. And this was a failure of the worst kind. Not only
had he committed more murders to haunt him to his grave; but now he had also
turned a boy, one of his own students, over to the wizard he despised above all
else. He had created a new follower, one he feared that Voldemort would one day
use as Severus’s own replacement.
He
heard Malfoy stifle a laugh and was surprised at it. Lucius was full of
surprises lately, it seemed. Perhaps he at last understood the truth of what
Voldemort was, but perhaps also, his old friend was merely laughing at him. It
hardly mattered, as the situation was the worst Severus could have dreamed to
be caught in anyhow. Lucius’s loyalties were no longer worrisome to Severus, as
he knew now that Lucius would not betray him, no matter what might come.
Betrayal of one meant betrayal of the other. We’re so bloody stuck together;
we may as well be one.
He
gave in to defeat and allowed fate to take her course as she pleased, for he
had no other option. The boy was lost, and Severus was sure the boy would seal
his doom. It was laughable that one of his own students would be the one to
destroy him. At last, the children will have their revenge. His resolve
began to fray as he watched. He knew he was showing more emotion than was wise,
but he could feel his hope dying and doom closing in. I wonder if Death
really carries a scythe? I always thought it would be more fitting for him to
carry a shovel.
In
silent and scarred defeat, Severus watched as the boy took the offered wand
and, without a word, cast the curse to end his father’s life. Since he was not
properly trained in the implementation of the curse, the man screamed. His
death came slowly and painfully. I wish I could have at least shown him the
proper way to cast it, so that it would have been executed correctly. Swifter. Strange thoughts whirred
through his mind as he saw the devious smile appear on the younger Pritchard’s
face.
When
his father took his last breath, Pritchard turned, beaming like a madman, back
to Voldemort.
The
smile on the Dark Lord’s face widened and Severus felt a chill in the very core
of his being. That grin. He knew that grin and it was the most
terrifying thing he had ever laid eyes upon. “Very good, boy. You have much
potential. Are you prepared to join me, then?”
The
boy nodded, still smiling that cold, deviant smile, “Yes, my Lord. It would be
the greatest honor of my life.” He held the wand out.
Voldemort
took it, and fingered it lovingly for a moment, and then he hissed, “Uncover
your arm, boy.”
The
boy eagerly obeyed. Severus felt his heart shatter, his will nothing but dust,
and he prayed that Malfoy would be able to speak for him if it should be
necessary. If not, it would be the end of the Snape line here and now.
The
Mark burned black into the boy’s arm and a cheer arose from the loyal Death
Eaters all around them. Severus closed his eyes and wished with all his power
for the end. For the blessed dismissal.
When
he was done with the boy, Lord Voldemort turned to Lucius and Severus. Severus
bowed to the ground and awaited the Dark Lord’s words in agony.
“You
have done very well, indeed. Your loyalty is truly a marvel. Both of you. Your
lives are spared. You may go.” He paused and Lucius rose, pulling his
dark-haired friend up with him. As they walked out of the circle, Voldemort
spoke once more, “And Snape, if you ever betray me again, you will wish that
the gods themselves had cursed you instead of me.”
Severus
felt the ice and the venom in the words and nodded. He could do nothing else.
He felt assured that he would not live to see the end of this war. He clung
thankfully to the strength Malfoy so willingly offered him and did not question
it.
He
collapsed as soon as they apparated before the Manor.