Chapter Fifty — Unravelled

"They're gone."

There was a noticeable pause before Dumbledore responded to Lupin's reply.

"Willingly?"

The werewolf scratched at the crease beside his nose and shifted in the chair. The aged wood creaked in protest. "It's hard for me to say. The den showed definite signs of chaotic departure, but whether that was through haste in vacating or as a result of unexpected intrusion is up for debate. Blood was spilt, and as recently as within the last twenty-four hours, but that could be nothing more than from fractious exchanges between lyc-males forced to share space. It's not uncommon for fights to break out amongst den members."

The Headmaster nodded at that, a pensive cast to his features. The study had the hushed air of a room late in the evening. The silky slither of phoenix feathers whispered gently above a light drizzle that pattered against the window panes, the bird busying himself with his night-time preening. A fire under the mantle hissed and spat occasionally and threw a flickering light that warmed and polished all the metal in the room to a rich glittering. It also reflected in the Headmaster's half-moon glasses, hiding his eyes intermittently.

"The MLE is..." Lupin hesitated, searching for a milder explanation than that which first came to mind. "... not overly interested in the cause, or even the result. Kingsley feels that they will regard it as nothing more than the usual itinerancy that lycanthropes manifest. Case closed, apparently. In some ways, this could work in our favour. I can get into the den again and have a closer look without worrying about an Auror popping up out of nowhere." He stretched his legs out in from of him, crossing one ankle over the other and slouched down a little into his seat. "If I could have Chara, she might be able to find what I can't."

"Severus?"

Snape exhaled heavily and peered at Lupin from out of the corner of his eye. He'd noticed the way the werewolf had changed his posture before proposing that particular course of action. It could be read two ways: Lupin was trying to disguise how important it was for him to use Parr's abilities in determining the cause of the den's vacation by adopting a nonchalant air, or he was subtly shifting to a more subservient, less threatening pose in the hopes that it would allow Snape to feel superior and hence less likely to be intractable. Perhaps it was a combination of both. More likely Lupin was unaware of doing it. It was a lycanthropic type of behaviour.

"I understand her health is poor, but the task would not be physically taxing," Dumbledore pointed out.

"And if an Auror, or worse, were to 'pop up' as you so put it, Lupin, how would you extricate Miss Parr from the situation?" Snape inquired rather frostily. "As it is, her idiosyncratic nausea from Apparating would be a significant detriment to her recovery."

Lupin squinted shrewdly at Snape from behind the strands of his grey fringe. "Would that be the only cause of concern, Severus?" Judging from that prickly question, Lupin's posture shift had been unconscious. "I am more than capable of extricating myself and others from awkward situations."

Snape sneered at him. "My experience is that you are unable to do so unassisted, Lupin."

"Unless there is significant medical concern, I would like Chara to accompany Remus to the den," Dumbledore interjected before the two men sitting opposite him could settle too firmly into bickering. "As soon as possible, if you have no objections, Severus."

Snape huffed pointedly and stared over Dumbledore's head.

"Remus, you mentioned a few days ago that you felt that this den may have been under the influence of Macnair. Is it possible that he has shifted them to where his other drug-dependent lycanthropes are?"

Lupin shrugged slightly. "It would make sense. If the werewolves are getting twitchy, he'd want them somewhere he could control their behaviour as rigidly as possible. I don't think he'd be wise to mix the groups together. There are enough fights within a den without mixing up members from other dens amongst each other. However, if they're addicted enough, he could keep them incoherent enough to overcome any inter-den animosity."

"Severus?"

Snape considered the notion carefully. "His supply of narcotics is not drying up, yet. Macnair would prefer direct control of those he's tied to him. He would corral them together in the one spot ordinarily, but I wonder if his recent loss of the lyc-females would cause him to hesitate repeating that tendency."

"There was superficial evidence of drug use at the den," Lupin interjected. "But whether it was drugs from Macnair or generic street drugs I didn't have time to determine. General drug use amongst lycanthropes is not unusual." The man dropped his eyes to the carpet and hunched his shoulders a touch.

"Perhaps Severus should go with you, then."

"What?" The two men sitting across from the Headmaster spoke the word at precisely the same moment.

"Ah, Albus, I'm not sure that's really a good idea," Lupin elaborated, sitting up with some alacrity.

"Indeed not," Snape agreed. "The situation would be precarious enough should anyone come across Lupin and Miss Parr there. My presence is not only unnecessary but potentially hazardous."

"I do recall that Remus is not the only one capable of extricating themselves out of difficult situations, Severus," the Headmaster pointed out mildly, pulling gently at his earlobe as if lost in thought. "I would like confirmation as to whether the members of this den were drug-dependent on Macnair or not, and since you would be able to ascertain that, I would appreciate your assistance in this matter." His gaze sharpened on Snape's face. "Additionally, you will be there to determine whether or not your patient is being taxed beyond her current capabilities."

"Headmaster, I cannot stress greatly enough how dangerous such an idea is," Snape pressed, back ramrod straight and brow furrowed.

"You concern is noted," Dumbledore responded gently, if rather distantly. "As soon as Chara is ready, I would like the three of you to make a thorough search of the abandoned den. Has there been any progress in discovering who removed the lyc-females from under Macnair's nose?"

Snape ground his teeth in silent frustration at being overridden by the old wizard. How typical of the man to accept only what advice concurred with his own opinions and objectives.

"I suspect that there may be one or two lycs in Clapham that know," Lupin began, seemingly oblivious to the intense waves of cold frustration emanating from the man beside him. "No-one's talking, but it's a gut feeling I have. I'll keep digging, though"

Dumbledore looked expectantly at Snape who glowered for a few moments before replying.

"That I have been unable to unearth any clue on the matter tells me one thing: someone knows and that same person or persons remain silent for good reason," he responded with obvious reluctance. "It is not unusual to get a whisper from the perpetrator in evidence of self-congratulation and posturing amongst the greater criminal community. If anything, several parties are often keen to claim false responsibility if they feel it increases their standing in some way. The silence is deafening."

Dumbledore laced his fingers together and leant forward over his desk slightly. "What does it tell you?"

"Either the perpetrator is very skilled, or very dangerous. Possibly both. That others have not put up their hands says they either don't know what's happened, which in my opinion is unlikely, or they're not brave or stupid enough to claim the deed."

"Is it a fear that Macnair will take the acceptance of responsibility as legitimate?"

Again, Snape considered the Headmaster's question carefully.

"Perhaps."

Dumbledore saw the doubt on Snape's face.

"But..."

"I have been informed of a... significant reluctance to even discuss the matter. I would interpret this as the influence of an adversary more deadly than Macnair."

That raised the Headmaster's eyebrows a fraction. "A more direct interaction may yield additional information," he mentioned, souring Snape's disposition even further at being instructed in his own area of expertise. "It certainly strengthens my opinion that you should accompany Remus and Chara to the den."

So much for not digging in uncertain ground, Snape thought to himself bitterly. Dumbledore treated him like an automaton he expected to be obedient and willing, with no initiative unless he determined it necessary. It didn't bother Lupin, but then the werewolf was singularly devoid of extensive independent thought.

"Have you progressed in convincing any lycanthropes to assisting our cause, Remus?" the Headmaster continued.

Lupin sighed. "I think perhaps some are not dismissive of the idea, but many of their decisions are as the result of fear. Fear of being kicked out of their hiding places by their den-mates, fear of being persecuted even further while under the protection of magical society, fear of being tricked. There are so many considerations that it makes them very hard to convince. That they have no central governance is another hurdle. The mind of an individual lycanthrope is changeable by necessity. Their situation is precarious enough as it is. We'd be asking them to take a lot on faith, and to be honest, that's a lot to ask of a pariah."

"Then we will have to be especially convincing," Dumbledore resolved.

"Lupin, I would speak with you."

The werewolf paused on the stairway, turning to look back up at Snape, a taint of surprise on his features.

"Right now?"

"If you can stand to be away from the bottle for five minutes, yes, now." He swept past Lupin swiftly with his nose in the air.

"Carping on about my alcoholism is becoming rather old hat, Severus. Perhaps you should move onto my financial privation."

"That is a condition I was once familiar with, hence I do not find it hilarious," Snape reminded him, reaching the bottom of the winding stone staircase that led from the Headmaster's study. Lupin's hasty footsteps echoed behind him.

"How encouraging that my own drug use causes mirth in a medical practitioner," the werewolf muttered in a wry tone.

Snape gave him a particularly crass epithet in reply.

"Charming," Lupin concluded. "Was that what you wanted to talk to me about?"

Snape held up his hand and forestalled him, peering around the corner in the corridor. The faint, hollow sound of children's voices bounced down the stone passageway. He turned on his heel and headed in the opposite direction. "This way, I think."

"Moving away from potential mischief-makers, Severus? A bit unlike you," Lupin pointed out lightly.

"One would have thought that you would realise the egregiousness of being discovered on school property, Lupin, but once more I find myself having to pare back the level of intelligence I think you manifest."

The werewolf was forced to trot slightly in order to keep pace with him.

"What precisely is your end goal?"

"For what?"

Snape tutted. "You know full well the type of treatment a lycanthrope faces from members of magical society, yet you work towards their subjugation into that same society. I would like to know why."

"Subjugation is an unfair accusation, don't you think?" Lupin murmured. "Lycanthropes have as much right to protection and equality as magicfolk."

Snape snorted his disbelief at Lupin's apparent naivety. "You know there's not the slightest chance of that becoming a reality. Your efforts, scant though they are, are being wasted. Surely your time spent in History of Magic was not given over entirely to scrawling Black's name with hearts around it in your notebook?" He turned a corner abruptly, forcing Lupin to backtrack.

"It is the lesser of many evils, Severus," the werewolf explained, choosing to ignore Snape's verbal stab at his sexuality, forehead furrowed in concern at the true topic of conversation.

"Then you need to analyse the data more critically," Snape told him curtly. "I wonder if you have mired yourself in this in the mistaken belief that since you remain in magical society, however precariously, that it is the best option for all lycanthropes."

"And despite being devoid of the condition yourself, you feel that is not the case." Lupin spoke it as a statement rather than a question.

"Be very careful which pit you choose to drop them into." Snape flowed down a wide flight of stairs like black water. "Be more careful of where your actions consign seevy."

"What I do for seevy society is none of your business, Severus."

Snape turned rapidly part way down the stairs and fixed Lupin with a penetrating stare. "Is that so?"

The werewolf blinked rapidly at the sudden confrontation, halting his own progress down the stone staircase lest he collide with Snape.

"I dislike being told to jump when and where at the behest of others. I appreciate even less being led about by the nose and being told to be satisfied with being kept in the dark, so it would be wise to cease telling me what is and what isn't my business." Not giving Lupin a chance to reply, he whirled back around and continued to the lower floor. "If you intend to avail yourself of my experience at that abandoned filth-hole, I require information. That is what I wish to speak to you about."

The air temperature dropped even further than its already frigid winter chill as they descended into the dungeons. That wasn't the only thing that caused Lupin to shiver. Snape was prickly to deal with at the best of times, and now he was giving every indication that he was in a serious snit. If Dumbledore's directive to have him accompany Lupin and Parr to the abandoned den was to have any useful result, some rather careful compromise of Lupin's part would most likely be in order. Snape never did anything for free. The manner and substance of payment, however, was often deliberately ambiguous.

The door to the Potions lab was held open imperiously. It took rather a great deal of personal control to refrain from scuttling past Snape like a reprimanded student. Lupin stuck his hands in his pockets and strolled past the man and into the classroom, a mild expression on his face that attempted to counteract the harsh, acid disapproval twisting the lines of the dark-haired wizard's countenance. He failed dismally in avoiding the jump caused by the resounding bang of the heavy wooden door as it was slammed shut.

"What members of Miss Parr's family remain alive?"

Lupin turned and stared at Snape, who stood with his body pressed back against the door as if to physically prevent Lupin from escaping. It said much that Snape would bring him here, to his territory, before demanding something of him.

"What does that have to do with anything?"

Snape sneered at him. "I need to know who else might 'pop up' whilst we're grubbing about amongst the fleas," he enunciated with a dangerous softness. "If I am to do someone else's dirty work, I intend to be fully informed before submitting to it."

"No, it just wouldn't be right for you to do something purely for the greater good, would it?" Lupin shot back, irritated.

"Don't go there," Snape warned, his eyes burning two black holes right through Lupin's skull. "You will answer my questions or I will make the collaboration so unpleasant that you will willingly curse the Headmaster's name for proposing it. I need to know who has an interest in tracking down Miss Parr, for whatever reason, so that I can prepare adequately for any unwelcome intrusions. You speak often of your rather defunct role as a guardian of a person more than capable of defending themselves and making their own decisions, yet you withhold information that would allow me to avoid harm to be inflicted upon that same person."

"An interesting way to look at it," Lupin replied harshly, all trace of his usual good-nature absent. "And perhaps not a little disingenuous."

"Do you doubt the Headmaster's trust in me, Lupin?"

A deliberately thorny question.

"I trust Albus Dumbledore," the werewolf replied after a deliberate pause.

"In that case I will ask again: what members of Miss Parr's family remain alive?"

Lupin hissed quietly and rubbed his eyes briefly. "Other than a sister, no members of her immediate family remain alive."

Interesting that Lupin chose not to verbalise the connection between Parr's Handler and her sister...keeping whatever information he could away from Snape's grasping question.

"How did they die?"

The werewolf stayed silent, plainly unwilling to answer.

"Lupin, if there is a party out there that seeks to eradicate the Parr family, I need to know," Snape pointed out, peering down his nose at him.

"It is... supposed that certain members under... Greyback's control were responsible for murdering Chara's mother and aunt." The werewolf's gaze slid away from Snape, skittering over various objects in the room for no other reason than to avoid that keen-edged look being directed at him.

"That is all of her immediate family? Mother and aunt?"

Lupin sighed heavily. "Yes. There is no father to speak of, and no other aunts or uncles, and no grandparents. A small family unit." He said the last with a faint tinge of sadness.

"How much does Poppy know about the symbiotic relationship between Miss Parr and her Handler?"

Lupin's eyes darted back to Snape's face. "Some, but not all, and I fail to see why you need to know that."

"There is a potential for inadequate treatment of Miss Parr's condition if you withhold such information; therefore, once again, jeopardising the health of your supposed ward. Why are details being hidden from a medical practitioner?"

"At Chara's request, believe it or not. I do not presume to speak for her in such matters."

Snape's lip curled. "Really? I find that unlikely based on my observations. What do you expect to achieve with your lycanthropic dependent?"

A peculiar expression passed across Lupin's face that Snape had trouble interpreting.

"That is definitely not your concern," the werewolf replied, with some degree of nervousness that Snape was able to discern.

"You stole a lyc-female from a den in what I can only describe as a stupid, yet typical, act on your part. Knowing full-well a female-lyc's value to the male members of her kind, you not only place her life in danger, but yours as well and by extension that of Miss Parr's. I do not wish to deal with the descent of a troop of half-crazed male-lycs on our location screaming for your blood. I may just give it to them."

"I just want to keep her safe. Is that too much to ask?" The man sounded tired, defeated, at a loss as to what was the right course of action to follow, his shoulders dropping in what could only be fatigue. "You know what it'd be like for a lyc-female, and a young one at that. Was it so wrong of me to take her from that kind of torturous life?"

"Your intention is not what I question, Lupin. You make too many enemies in your blundering, no matter how noble the objective behind it. What does Miss Parr receive in exchange for her services?"

"That is not my business, Severus! If you want to know that, you have to ask her, and all I can say is 'good luck'!" He'd managed to push Lupin rather rapidly into an ill humour which would have uncertain results: the man would either clam up or become so agitated he'd let information slip.

"It is my opinion that Miss Parr hides not only from those who threatened her life initially, but from those of her own kind."

From the way Lupin's expression changed from hostile to guarded, Snape's supposition was close to the truth.

"I cannot imagine that seevy would be very forgiving to any that threatened their autonomy."

Once again, the werewolf did not respond, mouth compressed tightly and a wary glint in his eyes.

"A potential battle on many fronts," Snape concluded. "Aurors, Death-eaters, lycanthropes and seevy. And you wonder why I am reluctant to stick my head in the fire." His hand tightened on the heavy metal door handle, the now unhindered exit telling Lupin very pointedly his presence was no longer required.

Now.

That was all it said. He stared at the small scrap of paper in his hand. For the fourth time he turned the paper over, despite the fact that previous inspections had revealed no other words, no other symbols.

Folter waited patiently beside his bed, her hands clasped together. Always patient.

Who had sent the note was not in question. He'd seen her handwriting too often not to recognise it, but why would she choose this hour? He guessed it not long past midnight, the evening's light rain having strengthened into a relentless downpour that steadily turned the school grounds into a marsh, wearing the stone down in a dissolution that would take centuries.

Snape had not been sleeping; merely going through the sham of night-time rest. There was too much on his mind and at first, he'd thought that was what had prevented slumber. However, with the delivery of this somewhat cryptic, monosyllabic note, he wondered if perhaps it had been expectancy; a premonition of sorts.

Before his bare foot had even touched the stone floor, Folter was already gathering his clothing. He stared at her choices.

"Folter was told that older clothing would be more appropriate," the house-elf explained, looking up at him through her small eyelashes.

"Then you are blessed with more information than I," Snape mentioned dryly. "Is there, perhaps, anything else you would care to enlighten me with?"

The house-elf sensed the annoyance hidden under his tone. "Folter does not presume to know," she replied, bowing her head.

However, walking from the protection of the castle into the rain that sluiced down from the black sky, Snape wondered if that were true. Making his way carefully along slippery, muddied pathways to the bare oak tree near the school gates, he realised that it had never occurred to him to ask the house-elf what she knew of seevy. An error on his part that he would need to rectify eventually.

The throaty rumble of thunder rolled down from the high hills, making the sodden air vibrate. He nearly ended up face first on the sodden earth several times, mentally cursing the inability to use a Lumos to light his way. He could not risk anyone seeing him.

There had been no indication that Parr would be at the oak tree. After all, in the two meetings they'd had out of doors, both locations had differed. Perhaps she had found a third. It would have been wise. In such a situation, she couldn't be too careful.

And yet, his feet had set him in this direction before he'd given it much thought. Even the lack of her figure at the tree did not dissuade him from the notion that this was indeed where he should be. He stood amongst the glistening roots, ignoring the rain that pattered against his face, slid along his jaw and down his neck, circumventing the rather meagre protection of the oiled cloth of his hooded cloak.

She was amused about something. That he knew meant she was nearby, and that she meant him to know.

"Are you a bird?" he asked aloud, his voiced raised just enough for it to be heard over the wet drumming on the rain on the ground.

"I'm a person who doesn't like getting their feet wet if they can avoid it," came the answer from above.

"Then your decision to do this right now seems rather contradictory," he noted, squinting up at her amongst the branches. The rain obscured his vision just enough that he failed to anticipate her rather rapid descent. The dirty cascade of water kicked up from her impact with the ground splashed all the way up his front.

"Ideal conditions are not always to be found, Dual. In fact, I have rarely found it so."

The darkness prevented him from seeing her face; her form nothing more than silhouette in front of him.

"Remus tells me you've been nosey." She spoke the words lightly, but there was a thrum of disapproval in the tone she used.

"What Lupin would call nosiness, I consider to be prudence."

That elicited a bark of laughter. "Got to the know the ins and outs of a cat's bum, don't you!"

"A colourful metaphor," he denounced, sneering faintly.

"Then I'll be plain, shall I? I would like to know why you're using Lupin as a source of information." Her voice was now utterly devoid of geniality, the sharpness setting him on edge.

"As opposed to?"

"Me."

That made him blink.

"It obviously never occurred to you to go to the source instead of browbeating others. Or perhaps you just enjoy putting Lupin in an awkward situation?"

"On the contrary, Miss Parr, the option of asking you was not unknown to me."

"So you just wanted to be sneaky about it."

The roll of thunder sounded again. Snape thought he heard an echoing rumble from the shadow in front of him. He should have known better. Lupin's mouth flapped more than a gossiping old witch.

"I concluded that the likelihood of getting the truth from you was small, to say nothing of the physical abuse I'd likely suffer for even daring to ask."

Parr tutted. "Sometimes your ignorance is amusing. Right now it is exasperating and, quite frankly, insulting. If you have questions about me, then you ask me. Whether I choose to answer them is another matter, but I will not have you jeopardising my position by careless questions asked of others!"

"And what position is that, Miss Parr?"

He felt, rather than saw, her bristle at that.

"A precarious one, Dual. One wrong step will see me dead. Or worse: will reveal the deceit of my death to others."

"Why do you hide from your own kind? Of any, they would be the most sympathetic to your plight."

The gasp that came from her virtually screamed her exasperation and disbelief. "Now your ignorance is astounding!"

"Then educate me and stop leaving me in the dark!"

Two paces and she was threateningly close, the lines of her face just perceivable enough to confirm the outrage she manifested.

"Are you blackmailing me, Dual? If I don't tell you, you'll give me away? Is that it?!"

"Nothing so reprehensible."

"Is that so?"

The sky flickered with blue-white veins of light, throwing Parr's face into a freeze-frame of rage. It was more frightening than if he had been able to see her face clearly for more than that fraction of a second. Whereas he could push Lupin fairly safely into bad temper, Snape realised that to do the same with Parr was... impolitic. Foolish.

"And why would I doubt your intentions, Dual? Could it be because you have been in such a position before where one relied on your silence to retain their livelihood and acceptance of others and you chose to spit on that rather than keep your mouth shut?"

"And how was I to determine Lupin's intentions, Striker? As a student, he put the rest of the school at risk with his presence. Dangerous enough as an adolescent lycanthrope, but as an adult? Who knows what kind of damage he could have inflicted on innocent lives! All it would take was one mistake, one slip, and I considered that a risk that should not have been taken and I stand by that decision."

"This situation is no different."

Thunder boomed, the ground shaking in response.

"I disagree. Lupin offered me nothing in return for my silence."

"Mercenary!" Parr spat. "Is there nothing you'll do without selfish intention?"

"You are not the only one who does what they must to survive. You once said you were a tool, nothing more. That is what I am also. All I can hope is to stay alive long enough to do what I must. An aim we share, so I find your accusation hypocritical and your moral high ground the sham for what it is!"

A bone-shaking snarl erupted from her mouth but Snape was far too angry to be cowed by it.

"All very well to claim that silence will shield you," Snape continued, "but you endanger others by involving them in a situation they do not fully understand. Your obfuscation is far more self-serving than the selfishness you accuse me of!"

Parr was furious, so much so that he thought for a moment she would strike him. She wheeled away from him, a throat-tearing growl the final warning. Her outline paced back and forth, an animal pushed so close to violence that it was nearly insensible.

"Arrogant bastard! You know nothing of what I've had to do, of what I've been put through because I do not come first. I have put the noose around my own neck crawling to magical society for help! You ask why I don't go to my own kind?! Just think about that!" she roared in his face, her voice thickened in hatred. "They would fight each other for the right to cut my throat! I threaten everything our society fought for in our escape from slavery. They would tear me limb from limb for daring to return us to that for just one life!" Her clenched fists lifted to her head. "It would be easier for all if I were dead, but I must do what I have sworn to do. What more could you possibly demand of me than that?"

"Trust."

There was no humour in her laughter at the response to her rhetorical question.

"Trust is what got me here, Dual, so you'll excuse me if I shy away from it."

"Why would I sell you out?"

She threw up her hands. "Who knows? You're an opaque son of a bitch! "

"You could know."

"By taking the knowledge from you?" The outrage was back. "I don't do that!"

"You've been pushed to actions I'm sure you would have sworn you never would. Why baulk at Legilimency?"

"I don't do that!" Parr shrieked at him.

"Do you murder?"

That shocked her as resoundingly as if Snape had hit her.

"What happened to your Screen?"

She didn't move, but the fury, the shame, boiled off her and bit into his flesh.

"That is not to be spoken of, Dual." She sounded small, curled in on herself. Terrified.

"Did you kill him?"

"No!"

"Liar!"

"Do not speak of it!" Her anger returned, brutal, desperate. She shied on the spot, but whether it was to restrain herself from slugging him or backing away in humiliation, he couldn't tell.

"Now you see why I resort to asking others," he told her.

The cry that ripped from her was mournful, terrifying in its bared remorse and paralysing in its wrath.

"He asked me! What was I to do?! He asked me! Begged me to do it. He stood in front of me and begged! What was I to do? Tell me! Since you're the fucking judge of ethics here, you tell me what I was supposed to do!"

They stared at each other in the driving rain, the echo of her voice ringing in his ears that told him of her guilt, her disgust and the madness that her actions pushed her to. A self-loathing that would burn her for the rest of her life.

"And you stand there and ask me to trust you," Parr hissed through clenched teeth, her breath steaming out of mouth and nose. "How could you possibly trust me now that you know I killed one of those closest to me? What of our agreement now, Dual? See what your insatiable curiosity has gotten you!"

"There is a difference," Snape countered. "I have begged you to keep me alive."

That response genuinely surprised her, disabling the intensity of her ire just long enough for reason to return. She stood in that half-crouch, gasping air in and out in exhausted gulps, her mind tracking back and forth over his words.

A flash and rumble in the distance, ominous, filling the relentless march of seconds that ticked by.

"That you have," she admitted at last, voice harsh and raw. "And you will regret it, I am sure. Take the knife out."

"What?"

A hissing growl warned him. "Take the knife out!" Her finger pointed to the ground in front of her.

Snape reached his hand awkwardly around and under his clothing, grasping for the silver handle, the metal almost painfully hot in his chilled hand. He pulled it from the sheath running down his spine and dropped it into the mud where it lay, spattered in dirt and rain, his body's warmth eaten away from it almost immediately.

With a clang, Parr's knives followed, one by one. Snape stared at the pile, realising with a growing dread that she could have pureed him with the blades on her. Did she always carry so many? His aggravation of her had been worse than foolish; it had been insane.

"Any metal on you must be gone," she snapped as her work blade sunk forcefully into the earth, point down.

He gaped at her. "Why?"

"It's time to unpick the knot, Dual."

"Now?!" Snape couldn't keep the panic from his voice.

"You think I called you here just to bellow at you?" she retorted acidly. "Oh, you'll wish you'd not pissed me off, Dual!"

A heartbeat before he unravelled, he felt her grip on his mind and realised it was too late to back away.

Down became up, left slid right, inside bled out. He fell.

It was worse than Apparating, far worse than Floo or Portkey. The mean, brutal cousin of Cruciatus and the terrifying matriarch of pure, undiluted terror. For a moment, he stared right in Death's pitiless eyes and beseeched her help, before he knew that even she could not stop this drowning.

The descent into oblivion went on forever as his body twisted in the mud, the pain so overwhelming it locked the howl so deep inside that it tore his consciousness to shreds, into a bloody, anarchic decimation. Curled fingers tore at the ground in a futile attempt to gain purchase, in desperation of ending this eternal drop into hell.

A lancet of immovable steel impaled him, its insertion into his being a ruthless, savage invasion, his mind slithering down it and slicing itself to ribbons as it clutched onto this one final chance to exist.

"Don't die on me, Dual," a voice whispered to him, into him. "That would make me very cross indeed."