Fury

A/N: Thanks to Luna305 for the beta on this, and to Anastasia and Indigofeathers for sending some very necessary assistance. ;)

"Not a warning," he gasped. "Now." In one smooth movement, he was masked and gone.

Tayet screamed.

-------------------------

In far less time than he expected, Severus appeared before Voldemort. Pettigrew was cringing nearby.

Severus knew instantly where he was and his heart pounded once, hard, but he stood silent, unmoving, until Voldemort acknowledged him

"Severus."

"My Lord," Severus said, a perfection of outward calm.

"Something is happening here... I sense a shift, a change."

Again, his heart. He said nothing

"She is here. She is nearby. I can feel it."

And again.

"Yes... something is happening. Quite close by." Voldemort turned his eyes on Severus. "Do you not feel it, Severus?"

Severus inclined his head.

"There is a silence here that cannot completely mask the sound behind it. Hidden, yes, masterfully hidden - but perhaps not hidden quite well enough."

Severus's eyes were hard, and behind them, he was exerting every nerve to keep his wand hand from tensing.

Voldemort inhaled deeply, opening his mouth to scent the air. "I taste fury, Severus. Fury. Delicious." One pale hand reached out to Severus' arm.

Occlumens. Only long habit smoothed the surface of Severus' mind. He pushed only his very real curiosity to the fore.

The hand paused mid-air. Fingers curled, beckoning.

Severus stepped closer, and a mist began to curl around his feet, rising, trailing off in long, coiling tendrils toward the silver sliver of moon.

"Find her, Severus. Find her, and bring her before me. She is nearby."

Severus inclined his head once more.

The mist rose.

"You know whereof I speak? Do you feel it, Severus?"

"I do," he replied, eyes signifying nothing.

Voldemort's eyes glowed in the darkness. "Do you not ache to enfold this fury, to bend it, to crush it to you, to burst its new ripeness on your tongue, savoring every last sensation as it dies?"

Severus inclined his head, not trusting himself to speak.

"Chaos," Voldemort's voice rasped horribly. "A new force of chaos, growing, yes, somewhere close, so close..."

The mist swirled around Severus' waist. Pettigrew's hands were trembling, twitching.

Voldemort's stirred the mist with his fingers. Shaped, the mist licked at them in a deepening eddy. "They can sense it, Severus, and I can sense their hunger."

Severus willed himself not to tense.

"They seek a feast. I will not take their leavings. She must be brought to me, whole."

Severus spoke carefully. "I wish to understand you, my Lord."

Pettigrew's eyes widened, darting from Voldemort to Severus and back.

"A dangerous ambition, Snape."

"I would not fail you in this, or in anything."

Voldemort closed his eyes and swept his fingers through the mist. "Something grows... a new insult... female... unprecedented..." Voldemort's tone was sibilant, unreadable. He opened his eyes and looked at Severus, burning. "Identify her. Find her. Bring her to me."

Severus' eyes turned to Pettigrew. "Assistance could prove... useful..." A note of cold balance in his voice, his own authority and power, but calibrated; no challenge to the Dark Lord.

Voldemort's mouth opened. On the face he had worn long ago, it might have been a smile. "Of course. Wormtail will provide you every service."

With calculated negligence, Severus extended a gloved hand and rolled up his left sleeve. Wormtail did the same, slowly, fear showing clearly in his eyes.

Voldemort spun his face around and leaned toward Wormtail, hissing.

Wormtail flinched, but moved closer.

Voldemort's wand touched Severus's Dark Mark, then Wormtail's, then Severus's. "Until I release you, Wormtail, you respond to his summons and obey his orders as though from my tongue."

"Yes, M-master. Thank you, Master."

Severus's eyes were icy fire as he rolled his sleeve back down.

The mist swirled into the vacuum left by Voldemort's departure.

"Await my call at Spinner's End, Wormtail," Severus ordered.

"B-but... the Ministry... "

Severus silenced him with a look. "Spinner's End."

He waited, cloaked, masked, in the mist, until Wormtail had Disapparated.

-----------------------

Despite Hermione's attempts to calm her, the phoenix was still screaming. Tayet popped out of the kitchen, and then back in, and then out, and then in. Each time she appeared, she screamed again.

"Tayet, what? What?" Hermione asked, half panicked and half annoyed.

Tayet popped out again, and Hermione shoved the kitchen door open. "Stay put! Wherever you are, just stay put!"

Phineas Nigellus and Mrs. Black had their hands over their ears, but they nodded toward the front parlor. They winced as Tayet let forth a particularly piercing shriek.

Hermione ran to the parlor.

Tayet was perched on the back of a low Victorian sofa and was glaring out of the window. She looked at Hermione scathingly and then returned to her vigil.

Hermione kneeled on the sofa and looked out.

She gasped. There, in the park, she saw Voldemort, eyes glowing; Severus in his Death Eater robes; and a hunched, cringing figure whose hand was glinting in the dim moonlight.

She flattened herself on the sofa, dragging Tayet down onto her stomach, eyes wide, heart pounding in her ears.

Tayet let out an irritated "Squeep!" and poked her heart.

"Are you a witch or not?" - a voice from a distant memory. Right. Hermione gripped her wand and peered over the back of the sofa.

A darker figure against the night. A faint glow of moonlight caught the mist swirling around Severus' boots as he took a step closer to Voldemort, pale ghostly wisps curling upward, twining around his legs, curling and reforming.

Hermione inhaled sharply as Voldemort's hand extended toward Severus' arm. No, she thought firmly, as if she could obliterate Voldemort with thought alone. Tayet whirred her agreement, and the low rumble emanating from deep in her throat sounded distinctly like a growl, a growl that was echoed by Hermione.

Woman and phoenix watched as the mist rose higher, as Voldemort trailed his fingers through it, as he - laughed? - and as Severus proudly extended his arm, rolling up his sleeve.

A trick of the mist in the moonlight illuminated his skin, the Dark Mark all the blacker for the contrast.

Tayet, Hermione thought, without taking her eyes off of the silent power play unfolding before her. Some movement told her Tayet had heard her, and she continued, I'm going to kill him.

A whirring agreement.

Voldemort's wand extended toward Severus' Mark. Woman and phoenix held their breath. Was this the call to the rest of Voldemort's followers? Was this the signal that would begin an attack?

Hermione eased herself off the sofa, wand at the ready, hand reaching for the mirror in her pocket. As soon as Voldemort's wand left Severus' forearm, she touched it.

It was so cold it burned.

Not now. The thought came through with a crystalline edge, but with a hint of... satisfaction? No. Something darker. Her stomach fluttered with anticipation.

Voldemort reached to touch Severus' mark again, and she let go of the mirror.

But when Voldemort and then Pettigrew finally disappeared, she brushed one finger lightly over it.

Mist glowing pale fire, swirling around him, Severus turned, proud, intent, and, across the distance, looked directly into her eyes.

She felt his hand over her heart, trailing downward...

Tayet warbled richly and disappeared.

Now? she breathed in his mind.

His thought curled around her mind. Now.

He started for the house and Disapparated mid-stride; his voice still echoed around her mind and he was before her, his gloved hands on her hips, his eyes intense behind the mask he still wore as he bent and claimed her lips with his own.

Mine, she thought, her voice wrapping his mind in a fury of possession as she ripped off his mask. He groaned and pulled her sharply against him. Her mental laughter registered low in his spine and his hands were behind her, grasping, drawing her to him, under her, lifting her.

Her arms around him, clawing his shoulders from behind, the long, liquid sound of silk tearing as she clenched his shoulders, the muscles in his back extending as he carried her, wrapped around him, across the room to the wall opposite the window.

The wall hard, unyielding at her back, his presence, warm, dark, alive, insistent, in front of her, she raked her fingers into his hair and forced his head back just far enough to see his eyes.

Breathing hard, his hands between her back and the wall, pressing her, holding her, her only balance his weight, the wall at her back, his strength, pinning her.

Hard leather pushing her hair aside, cupping her jaw, so hard, cool, smooth, not skin, "In these robes... Wrong... " , his thoughts railing at the finite limitations of reason...

Hands tightening in his hair, "Do you care?"

"Yes." His breathing ragged.

Tighter, pulling – her eyes demanding, a flicker in his. "Will that stop you?" she breathed – he heard the challenge lurking in the depths below the question.

Eyes hard, a dark flame, searching, seeking – "Never."

And his lips were on hers and his hands flat against the wall, moving, his cloak billowing behind them.

Buttons – open – gone –

"The cloak stays, Severus."

A wicked smile. "My orders are to find you." - lips, tongue, teeth, neck, collarbone, shoulder, biting, hard, harder –

"And so you have."

Pinning her firmly to the wall with one hip, a change of angle, sweeping her hair aside, one gloved hand on her shoulder, up her arm, pressure, arm against the wall, hand running upwards underneath her arm, higher, closing over her own, holding her tightly.

Her breath shallower, eyes a deepening dance of anger, determination, something deeper. Growing... Her cheek pressed into his other hand, hard, dark, not alive... her neck bare, smooth, breathing, vulnerable...

"I sense a shift, a change," he whispered, his mental voice a rush of wind over water.

It rippled her mind. "Hmmm..."

"He told me he can feel the chaos growing..." A strong, subtle movement against her.

His teeth on her collarbone, biting, gently, her free hand, fingernails into his skin, urgent... he moved again, intently, and again, slow, again, purposeful, again, calibrated, his power, his own –

And he –

And –

And –

Then –

- and as he watched, eyes wide, black, amazed, enthralled - she closed her eyes - inhaled, sharp - biting her lower lip, to keep from -

More... he wanted... "He told me that there is a silence here that cannot completely mask the sound behind it. Hidden, yes, beautifully hidden – " he drew the words out in her mind, his movements more intense, deepening, " - but perhaps not hidden quite well enough," and he growled her name into her ear, "Hermione." He chuckled, and drew his hand deliberately back down her arm...

She dropped her hand to his collar, roughly pushing it aside and scratching his neck as he moved again, her fist closing in reflex.

Low, so low, in her mind, his voice everywhere, filling her, "I taste fury, Hermione."

And she moaned.

"A fury I ache to enfold, to enflame, to release into the night, savoring every sensation as it flies, as it destroys - "

He stopped moving, for one aching, agonizing, no movement, poised –

She clutched him as if she might die.

Her breathless mind screamed "Now!" and he –

"Fly, Hermione."

He held her, watching as she –

Then, with impossible tenderness, he brushed a stray hair off of her forehead and gathered her gently in his arms.