Year Eight: Cut Loose the Fire

When the world stopped spinning and Snape's feet found solid ground, he knew his battle was only half over. But there would be no rest yet. There were still services to be rendered and groveling to be done. Pressing forward at least kept him from mulling over the events that he had just witnessed.

A searing pain suddenly caught his attention, and Snape reached over his shoulder to feel the split in his cloak and jacket that went through to the torn flesh beneath.

"Bloody, fucking hippogriff," Snape snarled to himself as he also inspected his shredded and bleeding forearm.

A whimper at his feet distracted his self consumed search. Draco Malfoy sat on his knees, panting and whining like a frightened animal.

"I can't believe you did it," he blathered. "I can't believe it. And I failed! Oh, God, I failed."

"Get a hold of yourself," Snape snapped at him impatiently as he looked about for other Death Eaters returning from Hogwarts. "We have to report to the Dark Lord and take whatever praise or punishment there is to be had. Best get it over with."

"I don't want to do this anymore," the boy continued to whine in tears.

"Not an option, Malfoy." Snape grabbed Draco by the scruff of the collar and hauled him to his feet.

"I can hide, I can run away," the boy rambled hysterically. "Take me some place he can't find me!"

"There is no such place," Snape spat as he shook Draco violently to help establish reason back into his traumatized brain. "And if you were to flee and find safety for yourself, that would just leave your mother to accept the Dark Lord's vengeance on your behalf. Do you really wish to be an orphan as well as a coward?"

The threat of retaliation on his last family member seemed to do the trick. Draco's pale eyes slowed their frightened scanning, and his body calmed its hyperactive twitching. He seemed to sink down into himself despondently. Pulling himself free of Snape's grasp, he straightened his robes the best he could and wiped the perspiration from his forehead.

"Alright," he said in an empty, hollow voice. "Let's go."

Inside the old orphanage, the usually silent building seemed alive with activity. Already celebrations had broke out. The Death Eaters who had returned ahead of Snape were quick to spread the news of the success of the battle. But the only person who could truly pronounce the night a victory was yet to be addressed.

Ignoring the loud conversations and offers of liquor, Snape and Draco moved on to the room occupied by the Dark Lord in the dark recesses of the building. Before they even set foot on the threshold, the door silently swung inward and a smooth voice beckoned them to enter.

It took a firm shove from Snape to move Draco into the room. Another reminder that his place was on his knees was issued once they were at the feet of their master.

"The task has been completed, my lord," Snape spoke with his nose pressed to the dank, dusty floorboards.

"I know," came the dangerously silky words of the dark wizard. "Everyone seems quite pleased with themselves."

Snape and Draco remained silent, wondering what consequences their master would invoke upon them.

"The one person who has been the biggest obstacle in my success since my youth is now gone," he finally spoke.

Again he fell silent, and the bowing pair were forced to listen to nothing but their own nervous breaths while they awaited his words.

"Have we displeased you, my lord?" Snape dared from his submissive crouch. "All of our orders were accomplished. Potter was left unharmed."

The silence continued to hang about them, but the Dark Lord finally moved from his chair and came to stand in front of them. Snape could see the bare, dirty feet with their long, talon-like toenails without raising his head.

"My expectations have not been exceeded." His reply was void of emotion. "Young Malfoy was predictably inadequate in his endeavors, and my faithful servant, Snape, was predictably over-exuberant in his zeal to prove himself worthy of my favor. However, the job is done; for that Lord Voldemort cannot express disappointment. But the manner in which it was executed and the time in which it took to happen is all very unsatisfying."

The feet moved on, and Snape couldn't help but feel a held breath escape his body, though he knew the reprimand was far from over. Beside him, he could feel Draco's body quiver under his robes.

"I will say I am slightly impressed that Young Malfoy even made it out of Hogwarts alive," the Dark Lord spoke more strongly. "I suppose I should give credit where credit is due. But our war is far from over. This battle has been conquered, but the fight has only begun. Right now Dumbledore's legions are weak and confused without their leader. It will take them a while to reorganize their ranks and create a new plan of defense. But we won't have much time to celebrate our victories. We must continue to strike and strike hard until they are all beaten down and our path is unobstructed. Soon will be the time for Lord Voldemort to finally have Harry Potter at my mercy. Now go and tend to your injuries, and leave me to enjoy this sparse moment of vindication," he concluded going back to his chair by the empty fireplace.

Snape and Draco backed from the room, and when the door had closed before them, they exchanged looks of relieved surprise. The Dark Lord was taking the news of their success much less enthusiastically than even they had anticipated. Wild rejoicing or bitter scorn had been expected. Perhaps even both delivered at once.

'Could it be that somewhere in that corpse-like body beats a withered heart that aches slightly to know that the man responsible for who he is has finally left this world to thwart him no more?' Snape wondered silently.

By the time the pair had made their way back to the main floor, they were intercepted by a nearly hysterical Narcissa Malfoy with her sister trailing behind with unexcited interest.

"Draco!" she shouted, her voice sounded piercing even amongst all the celebratory noise.

She flung herself at her son and grasped him as though he might try to get away. But the boy allowed himself to be hugged and sobbed upon with no words of admonishment nor attempts to escape.

"Mother, I'm alright," he murmured as he attempted to return soothing assurance.

Snape hated to be witness to such extreme displays of emotion and started to move away and perhaps finally tend to the lacerations that were beginning to ache down to his bones. But he hadn't moved a step when Narcissa seized him after letting go of Draco.

"You did it," she said with grateful passion. "You kept your word. My son is safe." Her lovely, pale eyes looked up at him with damp adoration, and he feared she might attempt to smother him with the same affections as she had Draco.

"Of course I did," he replied. "It was not only your Vow I was bound to, but also service to my master and his grand plans."

"But I am still so grateful," she continued. "You took such a dangerous chance taking the Vow. If Lucius could know of all that you've done, he'd have no way to even begin to repay his gratitude."

She gripped his arm too forcefully and caused him to flinch from the pain. Narcissa then noticed the blood beneath her fingers.

"Oh, you're hurt, Severus! Let me heal you," she insisted, taking her wand from her robe.

"No, you spend your time with Draco." Bellatrix Lestrange finally stepped from behind her sister and took hold of Snape's uninjured arm and began pulling him away. "I'll take care of our hero." There was a dark, lascivious sparkle to her eyes as she raked them over him in a hungry fashion.

"I can take care of my own wounds, Bellatrix," Snape said, though he didn't struggle against her firm hand as she continued to lead him down a darkened hall to a quiet, empty room.

"I can do a better job," she stated in a husky drawl, "at reaching places that you cannot."

Inside what had once been one of many dormitory style rooms, Bellatrix flicked her wand and brought a soothing, warm light to the peeling, dirty walls. The gentle shadows fell against the angular lines of her face, making her appear as beautiful as she had in the days before she had known Azkaban. Snape knew it was an illusion made from gentle light and clever charms.

Bellatrix began pulling Snape's cloak from his shoulders and examining the slash across his back.

"Slashing hex?" she asked curiously.

"Hippogriff."

She laughed boldly and came around to begin unbuttoning his jacket.

"I can undress myself," he said coolly, though he found himself not pushing her hands away.

"Of course you can." She smiled rakishly. "But are my hands so foul that you cannot bear to have them even heal your flesh?"

She continued her task, and Snape found his eyes going to the long, sleek black hair that lay over her strong shoulders. It looked so much like Davindra's.

'No! That's over and done. You'll think of it no more,' he chastised himself.

His coat removed and in a heap on the floor, Bellatrix's hands next began pulling the thin, once white shirt from his trousers and over his head.

He knew what she was doing, but he felt numb to it. Numb and ambivalent. If she fucked him or killed him, he cared not and would do little to stop either.

Her cool hands on his chest made him shiver. For a moment she stared into his fathomless, black eyes and seemed to lean in as though to kiss him. But she stopped and seductively pulled away and began an examination of the long gash to his forearm.

A mellow, low rush of words bubbled from her lips as she drew her wand over the wound. After just two passes, a scar wasn't even visible.

"Perhaps you missed your calling as a healer, Bellatrix," Snape quipped with less vigor than he hoped. 'Would Davindra go on to be a healer as she had always wanted? Stop it!'

She gave a hearty chuckle as she vanished the blood stains and moved on to this back, her fingers trailing up and down his body in an almost ticklish fashion.

"I never had the patience for book learning, as you did," she replied. "I wanted to get out and do and feel and experience everything. So we are both clever and talented in our own ways."

Snape could feel her breath against his back as she again spoke the counter curse that knitted his flesh back as whole. The pain had finally gone, but an empty, exhaustive ache still coursed through his body, which had nothing to do with physical injuries.

Bellatrix again came around to stand in front of him, her body pressed against his, her hands trailing down his chest in a whisper-like touch.

"What was it like?" she asked breathlessly, her eyes burning into him intensely. "What was it like to take down Albus Dumbledore? How does it feel to know that you have the gratitude and admiration of our dark master?"

The sound of his name brought a new sensation of queasiness to Snape's gut.

"I'm not surprised to find that death turns you on," he said dryly.

She smiled wickedly. "Not death, power. The ultimate aphrodisiac. Better than any potion or curse."

Her hand continued its downward descent until it came to rest between his legs. Firmly she cupped his flaccid penis with rhythmic squeezes. Attempting to keep the look of distaste from his face, Snape held her gaze and forced his mind to empty of the disturbing issues that writhed about inside.

"Not interested in me?" she asked in regard to the softness she still felt. "I would think you would enjoy such a reward, especially after all the years of verbal foreplay we engaged in. Can you honestly say that you do not desire me even now?"

Snape gave a wry smirk. "You demand a lot from a man. I single-handedly take down the most powerful wizard of the age, and you expect instant sexual fervor."

Bellatrix rubbed her body against him. She radiated a suffocating heat that made him uncomfortably warm. He gripped her arms in an attempt to keep her from smothering him.

"If it were me, I would feel so alive and ecstatic after such an accomplishment I would need to find something to do with all the energy," she said with a smile, her hand not giving up on its tasks.

"Well, forgive me if I'm not a ball of energy right now," he replied. "I don't quite have your morbid fascination to invigorate me."

"Oh, is this Severus Snape suffering from remorse?" she chided.

"This is me suffering from fatigue," Snape quickly corrected.

"I can assure you I work better than a Pepper-up Potion or a Calming Daft." Her lips brushed his ear. "Let me give you what you have earned and deserve."

Snape found himself backed against the wall and her hand inside his trousers, her nails scraping against his sensitive flesh as she roughly fondled him. Her lips and free hand moved down his bare chest until she was kneeling in front of him, taking him into her mouth.

'I have got to find a way to get through this,' Snape told himself. 'Think of anything! Think of anyone, even HER, if you have to. Just perform and get it over with.'

If he stared down at the smooth black hair and squinted his eyes just a bit, it could be Davindra. Though the mouth was harsher and quicker but exceptionally skillful. If he focused, he could take himself away from the bare, filthy room and the harsh woman before him to the quiet comfort of his Hogwarts chambers and the intoxicating memories of a sweet, innocent touch that could make him burn with need and desire.

He felt the coiled tension build in his groin and thought it would soon be over. But Bellatrix stopped and rose from her knees to quickly begin disrobing. Before Snape could ask what she was doing, she had pushed him onto a nearby bed that issued a cloud of ancient dust and nearly gave way under their weight.

Immediately, Bellatrix climbed onto his recumbent body. Her once firm, voluptuous form had withered away to look slack and wasted during her time in prison. But the feel of her heat engulfing him shut off his mental critique. He gasped loudly and she followed with a throaty groan.

Snape gripped her hips and allowed his mind to accept the pleasure his body felt, closing his eyes to block out the vision of her bucking and grinding on top of him. Each and every thrust dove him deeper into her body until he began to believed he would be consumed by her and the lust they enacted. Again he reached his peak, and this time she allowed him to come. If the circumstances had been different, Snape would have considered it an especially satisfying shag. But directly after he felt the last spasm course through his body, his thoughts reminded him of the reality in which he was existing.

Bellatrix took another minute to complete her own orgasm. By the look on her face, she was no more focused on the man beneath her than he had been on her. Snape wondered who had been the object of her fantasy. Perhaps the Dark Lord himself. Mercifully it was over, and she sat still, her head rolling forward and her cascade of dark hair brushing against his chest.

'That hair. So much like hers.' Snape couldn't stop himself from stroking the silky strands between his fingers. His reverie was broken when Bellatrix flung her head up and the hair revealed the true face underneath.

"I feel much better," she sighed. "How about you?"

"No worse," he murmured.

That earned him a narrowed look of scorn as Bellatrix rose from his body and began gathering her clothes.

"I would like to know when you would have had better," she commented in the cutting tone Snape was more familiar with hearing from her.

"I'm sure you would, but it would actually be none of your business," he replied as he reached for his wand to cast a cleansing charm.

The haughty witch fastened the rest of her clothing while giving him a lethal glare.

"Your gratitude is overwhelming," she hissed sarcastically. "Let me assure you that pity fucks are not my normal forte."

"I'm sure," Snape said casually as he attempted to repair his torn and bloody shirt. "But if you ever find yourself in the need of one again, I'm sure I could be persuaded to assist." He allowed a cold, little smile to touch his lips as he gave her a look of contempt and mocking.

Bellatrix's lip curled in furious disgust. "Not if you were the last wizard on the planet."

The door flew open, and she started to charge through it when Snape again spoke.

"Oh, Bellatrix, thank you for the healing."

He kept the contemptuous smirk on his face until she had delivered her last deadly look and her quick, snapping footsteps disappeared down the hall.

Only then did Snape allow himself to fall back onto the sagging mattress and his mind to completely collapse in a crashing, swirling, black chaos into which he sunk like a stone until exhaustion finally quieted his body and brain.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Snape woke sometime the next day with disappointment that he had not expired in his sleep. It appeared to be an annoyingly bright and warm day, judging by the intense sunlight that filtered through the dirty and broken windows of the old orphanage. His first movements inspired achy, stiff pains in every part of his body. Sitting up took a great deal of time, and when Snape's feet were finally on the floor, he found he had to rest his head in his hands to stop the room from spinning.

After finding the rest of his clothes, he dressed and emerged from the room to a mostly quiet building with only a few Death Eaters passing through. Snape made his way once again to the Dark Lord's door and patiently awaited entrance. Soon his presence was sensed and he was beckoned to enter.

"Ah, Severus," the master spoke from a spot near an open window. "I see you have recovered from last night's celebration."

Snape stayed down on the floor until he was commanded to rise. "What is my lord's bidding?" Snape asked as he brushed dust from his sleeves. "How may I serve you now that Dumbledore is no longer an issue?"

"The list is too long to even begin reciting," he replied with a dramatic sweep of his claw-like hand. "But Harry Potter and the Order will remain our primary focus until they meet the same end as our beloved Headmaster."

The dark wizard seemed in higher spirits than the night before, and Snape felt thankful.

"I think we can assume that your days as a double spy for the Order are now over." There was a slightly mean smirk on the serpent-like wizard's face. "So you will have to be given a new assignment."

"Of course, my lord."

"First, you will be working with the others to pinpoint where the Order's hideouts are. I expect you to be very forthright with all you know." There was a sharp, hard glance given with those words. "But also you will be assisting in one of my greatest creations that will assure Lord Voldemort's immortality." He finished with an evil smile.

"And what may I be doing specifically for you, my lord?" Snape asked, trying to hide his intense curiosity.

"A bit of patience, my eager soldier," he replied with a slight chuckle. "All in good time. The Vessel is not quite ready for my use, nor I for it. But soon."

"There were rumors about a new weapon, my lord," Snape interrupted hopefully. His curiosity about this "Vessel" got the best of him. "May I beg some bit of information about what the Vessel is or how it works so I may better assist you?"

His query was met with an annoyed squint, and Snape braced himself for any form of admonishment.

"Soon," the Dark Lord spoke more firmly. "In the mean time, you are to go to Payne Hollow. We must keep you hidden until the manhunt dies down a bit. It appears that you were seen, and there will no doubt be a hefty price on your head."

"I am sorry, my lord," Snape said remorsefully. "There was no one on the Tower besides Draco, myself, the Death Eaters, and Dumbledore. I was certain."

"But that doesn't mean that you weren't seen," the Dark Lord hissed angrily. "Now go."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Payne Hollow was a dismal place even before it became a deserted village of dilapidated buildings and crumbling stone walls situated only a few miles from jagged cliffs looming over raging ocean waters. The old manor was more drafty and damp than even Spinner's End. But unlike Snape's home, it was once a worthy residence of some refinement. Water stained oak paneling and mildewed velvet tapestry harkened back to a time when people of leisure earned their money off the backs of the peasants who slaved away their lives in the shipping yards.

After a few weeks, Snape stopped noticing the biting northern wind that swept through the place even though the heat of summer had settled over most all of England. Perpetual winter lashed at Payne Hollow. It seemed that time altogether had forgotten that rough, cursed bit of land. Cold was something Snape grew accustomed to. It was deep inside him as well as all around. Empty, barren, and frigid were the qualities of his being now that he had taken Dumbledore's life, fled Hogwarts, and begun his appointment as a full time Death Eater.

Every day he wondered if anyone at the Order knew the truth. Had the phoenix delivered the message? Had Dippet dispatched him? Would anyone even believe it anyway?

Snape was left to command a small troop of rabble-rousers who did little more than nightly raids and plundering. The only accomplishment came from annoying the Order and confusing the Muggles. Mostly it was to keep Snape busy and out of the way. He felt useless and exiled. For weeks he sat amongst the ruins of the manor, never called on by his master, and sending out reports that all sounded the same. "Attack on latest target successful. No survivors. No captives. No new information attained."

What little news Snape learned of the outside world was only derived from the Death Eaters who served under him. They at least got to travel about the country freely, hearing of everything that happened. Though the Ministry now fully supported the resistance against the Dark Lord, it operated from a position of inefficient chaos. The new, more forceful leadership that had taken over for Fudge and his disciples last year appeared no more effective in fighting against the rising menace. The wizarding population screamed for more action and protection while the Ministry only tossed out propaganda that insisted everything was well in hand.

Harry Potter and the Order had gone to ground to fight in a stealthy, secretive manner that often left the Dark Lord howling in embarrassed fury, though the official word was just as rose-colored for followers of the nefarious leader as anything the Ministry of Magic could produce. Everyone was lead to believe that their own side was far ahead when in reality, there was a neck and neck battle being waged nearly every hour of every day.

On a rare morning when the sun dared to creep over the damp, wind battered grounds of Payne Hollow, a visitor came to call. Snape stood looking over maps of suspected Order strongholds when the closest thing he had to a house-elf interrupted him. Guntly was a Death Eater flunky who was too incompetent to promote and too insignificant to bother disposing of. He reminded Snape far too much of Wormtail without the explicit rat-like physicality.

"Begging your pardon, sir," Guntly's annoying voice broke into Snape's thoughts. "You have a visitor."

Figuring it was another dark soldier with another useless report, Snape muttered for him to be sent in without bothering to raise his eyes from the map beneath him.

Guntly didn't move to follow the order. But Snape could detect his nervous shuffling about.

"Well?" he prompted irritably.

"It's a young lady, sir. I tried to get rid of her. I don't know how she found us or got past all the concealment charms. But she says she knows you're here and won't leave until she either sees you or is killed." Guntly's round eyes bugged out at Snape with nervous hope that he wouldn't be slain for being the messenger.

Snape's first thought was, 'Well, kill her then,' when it finally dawned on him which young lady would bother tracking him to the desolation of northern England and announce that she'd seek death before she gave up her venture. Amazement, dread, fury, and another emotion that verged on pitiful hope converged upon him.

"Fine," he said with no flicker of concern or recognition. "Send her in."

He had only seconds to steel his composure for facing her. Then she walked in. Proud and strong. The most beautiful thing he could have ever been rewarded with seeing. Davindra was dressed in full witches robes of deep, dark colors of burgundy, black, and green. Her sleek, obsidian hair hung lose about her shoulders. Familiar, pale jade eyes peered from a refined alabaster face. She stopped not far into the room to stare at him with blank serenity.

"Well, well, Miss Collins," Snape said in a smooth voice he reserved for his most vexing students. "You're as tenacious as a niffler. I really must stop underestimating you."

"And I you," she replied with no break in her placid expression.

"How did you find me?" he asked as he moved from the safety of the far side of the table to stand in the open floor space.

"Is that important?"

"Quite. For if the Dark Lord realized that my refuge had been compromised, he would be greatly displeased. So I need to know how you managed to track me to an unplottable, concealed location in the middle of nowhere."

"You shouldn't be surprised," Davindra said with the barest hint of a smile. "You're the one who bound us."

A few moments silence reined as Snape mentally kicked himself for forgetting that he had fled with their connection still in tact. It would be he who would suffer if the Dark Lord ever knew.

"How long have you known?" he asked, matching her calm.

"Since not long after you gave me the amulet."

He nodded slightly and strode to stand directly in front of her. Their eyes stayed locked on one another as Snape reached his hand down into the scooped neckline of her robe, his fingers aching to savor the flesh he rushed past. Instead he quickly grabbed the beryl green amulet, snapping the delicate silver chain with a quick jerk. A faint wisp of breath hitched in Davindra's throat when the frail links gave way under the pressure. With hardly a glance to the crystal, he pocketed it.

"That was careless of me," he spoke. "I won't make the same mistake again."

Snape turned and again put the width of the room between them. "So, to what honor do I owe such effort and energy? For even with the assistance of the binding amulet, your task was not a simple one. You can't have gone to the trouble of finding me just to give an update on your Imperius Curse research."

"Hardly. They closed Hogwarts after Dumbledore's funeral. No one has decided what to do about the N.E.W.T. students or exams."

"How disappointing for you," Snape interjected with sarcastic disinterest. "So why are you here?"

She didn't respond, and Snape intensified his bleak, cold stare to coax an answer.

"So I could tell you to your face that I know you're a liar," she finally stated with resounding certainty.

A mirthless chuckle escaped him. "Really now? And what, pray tell, brought you to this stunning realization?" Snape sat himself in an uncomfortable and rickety chair to hear her citation.

"Oh, I'm not talking about your dual role as spy and traitor," she said with more animation. "This has to do with your parting words to me."

"And what about their meaning confused you?" Snape asked with a condescending sneer as he hooked his arm around the back of the chair languidly. "For I thought I was quite clear in my delivery."

"It was a very good performance! Quite convincing," Davindra said with enthusiasm as she began a slow walk closer toward him. "I even believed it for a while. I had the fat lip and bruised face as proof for many days afterward. But then, after I stopped crying and feeling sorry for myself, I started thinking."

"Always a dangerous endeavor where you are concerned," Snape muttered as he watched her approach, then circle his chair.

A soft snort of laughter sounded from somewhere behind him where she stood looking out a thick-paned window. "Ah, but this time it did me a world of good. Because I started seeing how none of it made sense. The things they say you did and the plans you orchestrated just did not coincide to the man I have known for seven years."

Quickly she turned to lean over his shoulder to add, "And before you insist that you spent all that time carefully constructing your lie to me, remember how well and how intimately I have known you, Severus."

Snape examined his fingernails with bored concentration. "Once again you are confusing sex with love. I never said I loved you, Miss Collins. I never invited you into any of my confidences. You were of use to me. You were a service I indulged in. If you've come looking for an apology for striking you, then I can construct one. Otherwise you've come a long way for no reason."

"You did all of that for their benefit," Davindra said, coming around to finally face him in an uncomfortably close, dominant stance. "You actually did it to protect me. You couldn't very well let anyone know that you were leaving behind someone of any importance to you. As it was, I got a fair amount of questioning from McGonagall. I simply told her I had tried to stop you from leaving. She was too busy planning the funeral and the school closing to investigate further."

So she did know him. Far better than he even knew himself. He had felt confident that his actions, the cruel words, and the murder, would have forever turned her from him and convinced her it had all been a meaningless affair and him unworthy of her affections.

Snape rose from his seat to stand toe to toe with her. His pitiless black eyes burrowed into her.

"You're very clever still, Miss Collins," he spoke smoothly, his eyes unable to keep from descending to her lips. "However, you are also still prone to romantic fantasies that have no bearing in reality. Though as discerning as your little visit is, I cannot say that you have ceased to be a vision to behold."

Snape stroked a long section of her hair that fell in front of her shoulder and ended above her breast. He could feel a tremble move through her body at his touch, and her eyes immediately melted from icy spheres to molten pools.

"The nights here are very cold, boring, and lonely," he continued in a low, silky voice. "It would be a shame for you to have made this trip for nothing."

The tips of his fingers lightly stroked the warm, soft flesh of her collar bone and chest. Both of their breaths quickened when he traced across the gentle slope of her breast.

At that moment Snape would have given his wand to have her. To say that the nights were cold and lonely was an tragic underestimation. They were inhuman exercises in bitter anguish that froze the blood in his veins and nearly drove him past the edges of sanity. To have her once more, to feel her warmth and affection, to satiate his need just once more, would surely get him past the empty, bitter feelings of hopelessness that haunted him continually in that desolate God forsaken place.

She was about to melt against him. Snape felt her breath brush his cheek and had moved in to taste her lips. Poised with such an open expression of surrender to him, he was certain she would grant his wish. But before the breach was closed and they could delve into each other, Davindra suddenly lunged forward with a gasp as though she had been stabbed in the back.

Snape grabbed her arms to steady her. For a fraction of moment, she stayed draped upon him, her hand clutching the small of her back.

"What's wrong?" he demanded. "What happened? Are you hurt?"

Just as quickly, Davindra stood on her own again and moved away from him. Her face was suddenly much paler and her voice shaky.

"I have to go," she said and turned to leave.

"What just happened, Davindra?" he demanded, reaching for her arm to stop her.

Looking straight into his eyes, she spoke firmly. "I have to go, Severus. Grandmother is waiting for me."

"She knows you're here?" he asked with some surprise.

"Yes."

"So I take it you two have patched things up," he announced with a bitter edge as he released her arm.

Davindra looked at him for a moment before she answered. "Let's just say we've come to an understanding." There was veiled apprehension and sadness in her eyes that called out for recognition.

But she turned away before Snape could cast himself into her mind and made her way to the door, the strange spasm that had so viciously attacked her long over and forgotten.

"Davindra," Snape spoke. "Don't ever come here again." 'For I could never allow you to leave if you did.'

She shook her head. "No, I won't. But this is not our last, Severus. You'll see me again."

With a wistful smile she exited the room, and her footsteps died away in the empty bowels of the manor.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

That night Snape sat in the room he had taken as his sleeping chambers and listened to the wind howl against the windows. The room was dark except for a lone candle that cast deep, distorted shadows about the walls and corners. He didn't move for hours. One might have thought he had died where he sat and never closed his eyes for how still his body was.

Death would have been preferable to Snape. Instead he sat endlessly reliving those few minutes with Davindra over and over. Each word was examined. Every move she made was scrutinized. The precious seconds of physical contact were an ocean he submerged himself in with hopes of never surfacing. The empty silence that surrounded him was painful in its weight. The loneliness was unbearable. Yet if anyone had dared interrupt his mental reminiscing, he would have hexed them into dust. If he couldn't have her, he wanted to at least wallow in her memory undisturbed.

He knew he should be loathing himself for allowing a brief encounter to completely crumple his resolve to no longer be associated with her. It was just the stress of being so isolated, he reasoned. And thankfully, there was no one to witness his relapse or judge his weaknesses but him.

So, Snape allowed himself this mind flight to an alternate universe where she would walk through his door, perhaps wearing the night shirt she had given him for Christmas, as she had done a few times before. Her smile would be warm and her eyes like magnetic beacons drawing him in. Long, thin legs would elegantly and silently carry her to him where she would curl herself into his lap, and cupping his face, drink in his lips with her hungry mouth and bring him to life.

He could see her. He could feel her. She might actually be there for all he knew. Reality or not, he didn't wish to disturb the blissful image. He simply let it play out before him until a shallow satisfaction ebbed into a dreamless sleep.

The next day he woke to yet another meaningless, mindless day. But as he started the daily drudgery of dressing, his Dark Mark burned with a fury. It had been long enough since he had been summoned that the sudden pain took him by surprise.

Snape couldn't tell which emotion was more prevalent -- fear at being called to face his master or excitement at the prospect of leaving Payne Hollow, even for only a day. Moments later he had Apparated at the old orphanage and made his way inside.

Almost immediately he was confronted by a smirking Bellatrix Lestrange who crept up against him with a cat-like scrape of her body.

"Bellatrix," Snape greeted smoothly. "The entirety of the wizarding world died out already? I hadn't heard."

She gave a lusty laugh. "Not quite. Where have you been hiding yourself, Severus?"

"Nowhere special," he said. "But under the Dark Lord's orders, I have remained quite busy, of course."

"Of course," she echoed. "Well, whatever you are doing, you must be doing it right, for the Dark Lord has been waiting for you in the old sanctuary with a surprise. It must be something quite interesting." Her eyes flashed with mocking. "I wonder what it could be?"

Again she laughed but turned to walk down the hall and disappear out of sight. Snape sneered at her retreating form and continued on to the large empty room that was once a gathering and dining hall for the orphans.

Snape let himself in to the old room, sidestepping debris from the crumbling roof overhead. The high windows let in a vast amount of light, which illuminated the flurry of dust particles dancing in the air as the dark wizard did a slow pace about the room. Mostly, Snape had seen his master at night or in the shelter of a dark room. He hadn't known that the man would ever do anything but shun the bright light of morning.

Snape quickly knelt down and addressed him.

"Rise, Severus," the Dark Lord commanded enthusiastically. "It's a most glorious day for revelations, is it not? I know your exile has been a difficult one, but Lord Voldemort is now prepared to reward your patience with something most exciting."

"I am deeply grateful and eagerly await your command," Snape replied as he watched the wizard pace in giant, slow circles.

"As you know, Harry Potter has been continuing Dumbledore's quest to destroy my precious Horcruxes." There was now a bitter tone to his voice. "Unfortunately he has been successful in obliterating over half of them. So I have had to resurrect an old plan that I had nearly forgotten about until after my return, when an old friend reminded me of the great power which lay at my disposal."

A slight rustle to his right made Snape turn to see Madame Collins emerging from the dim shadows to smile at him triumphantly.

"Madame." Snape addressed the smug looking witch with a snarl of contempt. "I am not at all surprised to find you lurking about the corners of this enterprise. You have my full attention, my lord," he returned to the master before them both. "I have a feeling this will answer a lot of mysteries I've spent years attempting to understand."

"Indeed it will," Demelza interjected with a widened grin.

"If the Horcruxes had remained intact and I was able to unite them, I would have been a mere wizard. No more, no less human than the rest of the world," the Dark Lord continued. "What I really need is a way to ensure immortality that no wizard can match. I had devised a way to do that some time ago, though I had not completely tested the plan. I did, however, prepare for its execution in case it was needed. And now it seems the need has arisen."

"This is the Vessel you speak of?" Snape asked.

"It is indeed the Vessel," he replied with a reptilian smile. "The blood of my heir and its mother combined in a powerful potion that will give me ultimate strength. Harry Potter's meager sacrificial protection could not hope to match my own."

"An heir," Snape commented thoughtfully. "A most interesting strategy, my lord. And what lucky woman will have the honor and blessing of birthing the child of our most powerful master?"

The Dark Lord raised his wand and commanded a small door at the other end of the room to open. Well hidden in shadows, Snape could only see that a form stood on the other side, which began a slow emergence into the light. Even after the figure stepped into a bright pool of sun, Snape's mind still didn't wish to recognize what he saw before him and what it could mean.

Davindra stood with customary straight, calm composure. But unqualified misery radiated from her as she stared at Snape with what he assumed was a silent apology. He returned nothing but blank scrutiny.

"I hear you two are well acquainted," the Dark Lord said as he walked around Davindra, eyeing her closely.

"Quite, my lord," Snape answered in a casual tone that completely hid the effects of the shock and horror that burned in his chest like a hot poker. "Davindra Collins was one of my more talented students. She is, I'm sure, an excellent choice for you."

"She was promised to Lord Voldemort at birth," the dark wizard went on as he continued to examine the girl before him. "Madame Collins was generous enough to offer her when she heard I was researching such magic. I have not seen her in many years, but I have heard of her great promise as a witch and also of her clever charm and pleasing appearance. She is quite lovely, is she not, Severus?"

Snape narrowed his gaze back at Madame Collins with a silent threat clearly visible in the black depths of his eyes.

"Of course, my lord," he answered.

"And I hear I have you to thank for her education and protection," the Dark Lord continued.

Snape bowed his head slightly in reception of the compliment. "Had I known what I was truly guarding, I would have placed even greater value and enjoyment in my task."

"Your enjoyment is hardly in question. Good thing I don't need a virgin's blood." There was mocking, accusation, and contempt in the flippant comment.

Again, an eviscerating look was tossed to Madame Collins who smiled in what could only be construed as amusement over Snape's embarrassing position.

"My lord, if I had known any of the details of Miss Collins's fate or of Madame Collins's plans, I can assure you I would have acted differently. As it were, I simply believed I was being paid and later blackmailed to tutor and watch over a bright, albeit capricious and conniving, young lady. Despite anything Madame Collins may have reported, if anyone was taken advantage of in this matter, it was I."

"You dare to feign insult and abuse?" the Dark Lord hissed.

Snape lowered his eyes and prepared for any number of curses to be leveled at him. "Forgive me, my lord. But in regards to Madame Collins's actions, I have indeed felt used and deceived."

He took a quick glance at Davindra to see that she still stood as if rooted in her spot, but her eyes now rested on the ground, and a shameful flush tinted her cheeks.

"Your petty bickering is of no consequence now," interrupted the dark wizard brutally, spitting his words like venom. "What's done is done. We will move ahead with the plans, and there will be no more philandering nor secrets between the four of us."

The Dark Lord moved back to Davindra and began a slow stroking of her hair. She stiffened slightly at his touch but did not move further. The repetitive movement seemed to sooth the agitated wizard, and Snape felt jealousy for the luxury of indulging in such a sedative at that time. He was forced to simply relive the familiar memory in his mind for any shred of comfort.

"Madame Collins assures me that she is working quite diligently on the potions," their master continued. "However, we have hardly a month to prepare, and I have not seen even one simple fertility potion. Severus, you will take over the preparations. Madame Collins will turn over her notes and supplies to you forthwith."

"What? My lord," Madame Collins finally joined in. "I am nearly done with all of my preparations. For Severus to come in now would only set us back and confuse things! The fertility potions are not needed until the month before the coupling. I've told you that taking it for too long prior reverses its effects."

"Silence!" the Dark Lord shouted, making his wand visible as a threat. "You will do as your master commands."

Madame Collins glared violently at Snape, her chest rapidly rising and falling with furious breaths. It was his turn to smile with amusement.

"The coupling takes place on the new moon," he continued. "If my instructions have been followed and all goes as planned, in nine months I will have my heir, and the life sacrifice can be made to create the final potion."

"Life sacrifice?" Madame Collins again spoke. "Don't you mean blood sacrifice, my lord?"

The dark wizard looked to the old witch and gave a nasty smile. "It is indeed a blood sacrifice, but I will need all of the blood. So in the end, it becomes a life sacrifice. And a most noble one, might I comment."

Snape felt his own chest tighten and the blood in his veins turn to ice water. But he said nothing.

"Their lives?" The witch's voice had risen to nearly shake the crumbling rafters overhead. "You are planning on killing my granddaughter and great-grandchild? You never told me this! If I had known..."

"You would have what?" the Dark Lord's voice boomed over her. "You would have denied your master his immortality? You would have gone back on your promise?"

Snape could see the panic and horror in Madame Collins's eyes. He looked to Davindra and saw equal fear.

"I would have done all I could for you, my lord. But not at the life of my children. There must be another way," she insisted. "Severus and I together hold more knowledge of potions than any wizard library in existence. We, together, can find another way. Something that will not require so much blood, perhaps."

She had moved closer to Snape as if to signify unity between them. But as much as Snape would do anything to save Davindra's life, he didn't wish to be brought down with the same curse that Madame Collins was fated to suffer if she continued her argument. As it was, he moved away from her minutely. Though his own mind began to think of ways to change Davindra's fate.

"Insolence!" shouted the Dark Lord as he encroached on Madame Collins. "Insubordination, insurrection, mutiny. It is all around me. You wish me to disregard meticulous planning and diligence because you misunderstood my words eighteen years ago? The success of Lord Voldemort should be thwarted for the sentimentalities of a faithless, deceitful witch?"

"There has to be another way," she insisted with both fear and obstinance.

"Crucio!" the Dark Lord commanded angrily.

The old woman withered to the ground in convulsions of agony. He let her stay under the curse for many long seconds.

Davindra gasped and attempted to rush forward. "No! Please..."

Snapped grabbed her arms and pulled her against him to stop her progress. "Don't," he whispered into her ear. "You'll only make it worse."

They were both forced to watch the Dark Lord inflicted the torture curse on Madame Collins in muted horror.

Finally he released the spell, but the witch hardly moved. Her heavy, labored breathing was the only thing indicating survival.

Davindra struggled to be free and run to the aid of her grandmother, but Snape held her firmly against him. It was wrong to take any pleasure in physical contact at such an inappropriate time, but being able to have his hands on her and exert some control over her made the situation much more bearable to Snape.

"You eagerly made your promise eighteen years ago," the dark wizard snarled over Madame Collins's crumpled body. "You didn't even think to question the details of my plan. You were too busy looking for ways to ride my coat tail for success. Now you try to demand change? After the extravagant wealth of connections Lord Voldemort has afforded you? You are a foolish, greedy, ungrateful witch."

Weakly, Madame Collins raised her head from the floor. Her face was an ashen gray, the whites of her eyes completely blood-filled. Even Snape was shocked at the damage she had incurred.

"You can't take away the only thing that matters to me." Her voice was nothing but a feeble rasp. "I did this all for her. I thought you wanted her."

Snape felt Davindra sag at the words. He tightened his grip and let her body rest against him.

The Dark Lord barked a bitter laugh. "You thought I wanted a wife and child? How pathetically quaint and stupid. I have enough wretched, mewling pests clutching at my robes, demanding attention as it is. What I need is blood." He straightened up and walked gracefully around the room again. "Now, you can cooperate and continue to share in the prosperity of Lord Voldemort's reign or you can be disposed of and we will carry on without you. It matters little to me when I have Severus who surpasses your talent and demands no special favors."

Madame Collins replied nothing but sank into nearly silent weeping.

The dark wizard came to Snape and extracted Davindra from his grip, as though suddenly realizing that his possession was in danger of being absconded.

"Please escort Madame Collins out, Severus, and see if you cannot put some reason into her. And if not, then take care that she troubles us no more." The Dark Lord's red eyes glided between Snape and the crumpled woman on the floor threateningly.

Snape knew immediately what he meant, and he also knew he had no choice but to obey.

"Yes, my lord."

"Davindra and I will spend some time getting to know one another," he continued in a more cheerful tone as he guided her away from Snape. "Come back tomorrow to discuss the plans for the potion and coupling."

She looked back at Snape with intense pleading and fear in her eyes. 'Don't leave me,' he knew she was silently screaming.

"I'll return first thing tomorrow," Snape answered to both the Dark Lord and her.

Reaching down, he attempted to haul Madame Collins upright, but found her to be almost completely dead weight. It took a great amount of strength to get her on her feet and lead her from the room.

No one appeared to them again before they escaped into the open, overgrown courtyard of the old orphanage. The sun was now being swallowed up by churning, dark storm clouds. Distant thunder echoed around them.

"No, wait," Madame Collins croaked. "I have to rest."

Thinking there was really no time for such luxuries, Snape begrudgingly found an old fallen tree that provided enough of a seat for the wilting woman. Though he did have to admit that dumping the uncooperative weight he had been carrying was a relief.

Snape looked around nervously in hopes of not being approached by other Death Eaters.

"You have to do something, Severus. You have to stop him," Madame Collins spoke between wheezing breaths.

Snape turned to give her a flat look. "I believe I am no longer obliged to do your bidding."

"You can't stand there and tell me that you are willing to watch her die," she replied desperately.

"It was not my foolishness that got her to this end," Snape shot back.

"I know, it was mine! And I would accept the consequences dutifully if they were only mine to suffer. But she's an innocent in all of this!"

"You should have thought of that long ago."

"I know I was foolish, Severus. I loathe myself more completely than you ever could imagine. And he was right. I was greedy and impulsive. I saw a way to elevate my own standing and secure a place of importance for the one off-spring who I believed could actually be someone." Madame Collins then broke into a fit of coughing that spewed flecks of blood into her hand and down her chin.

"Why didn't you tell me?" he asked, stepping closer. "In the beginning, why didn't you inform me of the plan?"

Madame Collins raised her once mesmerizing, now damaged eyes to him. "I wasn't sure what side you were on. I know I said it didn't matter, but in truth I was trying my damnedest to discover where your loyalties really lay. And I was never honestly sure until after I heard about Dumbledore. Even when Lucius Malfoy came to me to devise a plan to test you, I just could never be sure."

"Lucky for Lucius Azkaban protects him," Snape snarled to no one in particular. He then crossed his arms and glared down at her. "And if you are so sure of my loyalty now, why are you asking me to betray my master? I could kill you without so much as a warning for such treason."

The old woman gave a pitiful laugh that quickly deteriorated into a hacking, retching sound. "Severus," she managed in a weak, hoarse voice, "you'd be doing me a favor if you drew your wand on me at this point. But I ask you because I know that she means something to you. She always has. You're standing there right now trying to think of a way out of this."

Snape snorted a sound of contempt.

"It's true. That girl would happily give her own life for yours if the situation were reversed. And you love her for it. Deep inside your devotion to her eclipses anything you feel for the Dark Lord."

"There is nothing inside!" Snape turned and yelled at her, surprised at his own quick rage. "And I will not sacrifice myself for you, her, or anyone else."

Madame Collins seemed to be fading instead of gaining strength from her rest. She listed to one side and seemed hardly able to raise her head.

"Back at my home are all the notes for the potions. You will find a way to make this process fail and keep Davindra alive," she said with as much authority as her voice allowed. "I needn't threaten or bribe you, Severus. Your heart will allow you no other choice."

Before he could refute the charge, the sound of snapping twigs took his attention and he turned away to catch the sight of a squirrel dashing across the ground to get to another tree. Thunder sounded again, but closer. Fat, cold drops of rain began a relentless assault.

Taking in a sigh of relief, Snape then turned back to Madame Collins to tell her that they had to move on or suffer being soaked to the skin. His words froze on his tongue when he saw that her lifeless body had slumped to the ground.