Invitations and Obligations, Part 2: May 1978

Invitations and Obligations (Part 2): May 1978

Severus

Entering his home on Spinner's End, Severus dropped his parcels next to the sofa, shrugged off his robes and headed for the cabinet containing his store of spirits. Without much thought, he reached for the already opened bottle of Firewhisky and poured himself two fingers... no, three. It had been a bugger of a day. Malfoy was expecting the delivery of his most recent 'special order' at six o'clock, but until then, he'd relish this one, quiet hour.

With something between a grunt and a sigh, he sank into the sofa, took a long sip, and relished the heat of the liquor as it coursed down his throat. He leaned his head back and closed his eyes. Unbidden and unwelcome, the image of his last customer...the young woman with the child...flashed into his mind. His eyes popped open and he downed another swallow with a grimace.

He reached for the morning's post and newspaper, both resting on the end table next to the sofa. He preferred to sort through it after work; reading the Prophet in the morning tended to set his teeth on edge, making for a bad beginning to his day.

He skimmed through the newspaper, pointedly ignoring the sections filled with stories of Dark Marks, recent attacks, and other reports of violence. The headline on the fourth page, however, made him stop. The voice in his head told him sternly to 'Turn the page!' but his instincts...and the photograph of a smiling Lily Evans watching a very animated James Potter...compelled him otherwise. He took another large gulp of his drink and began to read.

~*~

The Pureblood and the Muggle-born:

Enchanted Engagement or Misguided Match?

by Rita Skeeter

After announcing his engagement to Muggle-born witch, Miss Lily Evans, Mr. James Potter, only son of Stephen and Emily Potter and the grandson of the famous inventor Ernest Potter, seems to have anointed himself spokeswizard and champion of all Muggle-born witches and wizards. It has been reported that Mr. Potter has been making impromptu speeches in public, decrying the treatment of Muggle-borns by the general wizarding community. Some speculate that Mr. Potter is reacting to the supposed recent target of an attack on his betrothed by You-Know-Who. Others believe that his odd behaviour may be the result of some unnatural enchantment, cast by his red-haired fiancée. Miss Evans, daughter of Muggles Roger and Barbara Evans, is rumoured to be employed as an Unspeakable in the Ministry of Magic's Department of Mysteries. This reporter, however, was unable to confirm this speculation with Ministry officials, who declined to comment.

Last evening, Mr. Potter was overheard engaged in a lively discussion with patrons at one of Diagon Alley's finest dining establishments, The Treacle and Tart:

"If You-Know-Who has his way, Muggle-borns will be wiped out! Do you realise what that means for our world? If we turn our backs on this danger, if we don't stand together to fight against this evil, our world will be completely destroyed in just a few generations!"

His bride-to-be, wearing a simple, light-green Muggle garment, sat by his side, eyes glistening with grateful devotion. Gauging the reaction of the patrons listening to this diatribe, none seemed to take his dire warnings with any seriousness. Coming from such a noble lineage, one must wonder if it is wise for Mr. Potter to denigrate his heritage by vocally supporting such a mundane cause.

~*~

An unnatural enchantment, my arse. Potter's the one who should be ridiculed, not Lily.

Severus crumpled the rag, threw it in the fireplace, and set it afire. He watched it burn as he considered the 'supposed' attack on Lily. A fleeting moment of panic rippled lightly in his chest, as he considered the likelihood that the attack had been provoked by his information. Tossing back the rest of the Firewhisky, he pushed the thought quickly and roughly aside.

He shook his head and reached for the bottle of Ogden's.

Just one more before going off to meet Malfoy.

He replenished his glass and emptied it in two swift moves, then grabbed and donned his robes. As he did so, he espied a thickly folded parchment peeking out beneath some adverts in his post pile. Curious, he picked it up and traced the gold engraving of his name on the outer parchment. It was a traditional Muggle-style invitation:

Mr. and Mrs. Roger Evans and Mr. and Mrs. Stephen Potter

request the honour of your presence at the Wedding of their children

Lily Ana Evans

and

James Ernest Potter

9 June, Nineteen Hundred and Seventy Eight

at Five O'Clock in the evening

The event will be held at the Potters' home in Glenshire Abbey

Reception to follow

Please RSVP by Return Owl to the Potters

or by telephone to the Evans at 02864 272 811

Severus stared at the parchment in his hand, stunned. He was quite unable to absorb the idea that anyone would think that he'd ever attend this... this.... He swore and crushed the parchment in his hand, stuffed it into the pocket of his robes, picked up Malfoy's parcel, and stormed out of his house.

********

Severus paced fitfully while Malfoy checked the contents of the parcel, making circles around the private room at the Hog's Head Inn, an empty glass clutched in his hand.

"These appear in order," Malfoy commented with satisfaction. He glanced at the younger man. "Severus, please do stop before you gouge a rut in the parquet floor. I'd hate to be charged for its repair."

Severus paused in mid-stride and threw himself into one of the club chairs with a huff and a scowl. He lifted the glass and stared at it, wondering where its contents had gone.

"Anything you care to discuss?" Malfoy inquired.

"No."

"Ah, I see. Well, there is something I'd like to discuss, if you don't mind," said Malfoy in a tone that triggered Severus' 'be-on-guard' instinct. Severus lifted an eyebrow, his cue that he was listening.

"The Dark Lord has been extremely pleased with your work. The potions have all been expertly brewed and have proved most... effective."

Severus preened. He knew the potions were the most exacting and difficult he'd ever encountered, and he was exceedingly proud of his work. He drank in this praise like a tonic.

"The Dark Lord does not dispense his praise lightly," continued Malfoy. "Since your Apprenticeship with Dayfwydd is coming to an end, he has asked me to convey to you his third...and final...offer. It would be a singular honour for you to stand as his personal Potions master, and you would be an invaluable addition to his cohort. And, to convey his appreciation, the Dark Lord will ensure you have the finest facilities in which to work. What say you, Severus?"

Severus did not respond immediately and the silence hung heavily between them.

He felt his mouth go dry and the faint beginnings of a headache stir behind his eyes. The actuality of a personal laboratory was his fantasy come to life. A Potions master! The Dark Magic he had invoked in the creation of Voldemort's potions now pulsed in his blood, pulling at him, calling to him like a beacon in the fog. He nearly ached for it. Of course, he also knew that he wasn't being offered a genuine choice. It was as clear as the glass in his hand that either 'choice' would cost him his life: either his actual death or to live out his life stripped of free will and independence, all for a cause he didn't really believe in.

To give himself a moment away from Malfoy's expectant glare, to hold himself whole and uncompromised for one final moment, Severus closed his eyes, shoved his hands into the pockets of his robes, and drew them about himself like a security blanket. As he did so, the fingers of his left hand wrapped themselves around a crumbled piece of parchment.

. . .request the honour of your presence at the Wedding of their children. . .

Like a bolt of lightning, a shot of flaming hatred sparked from his fingertips and coursed straight to his heart. Another layer of protection was added to the wall that he had so carefully built around it, solid and unmoving.

Severus opened his eyes.

"Of course I accept, Lucius."

Malfoy smiled, happier than Severus had ever seen him.

"I'm so pleased!" he said, rising and extending his hand to Severus, who stood as well and accepted Malfoy's embrace.

This close, Severus could see flints of black in Malfoy's grey eyes as he gripped Severus' arm tightly, his voice dropping to a near whisper. "The Dark Lord would like to extend his thanks to you... personally."

The announcement caught Severus by surprise. "Now?"

"Our master does not like to postpone welcoming his new recruits."

His headache was spreading and he instantly regretted those three shots...no, four...of Firewhisky. Severus nodded.

Malfoy let go of his arm and stepped back. "Excellent!" He took up his cloak and gestured towards the doorway with a flourish.

"After you, Severus!"

********

Severus was surprised to find they had Apparated to Malfoy Manor, but he held his tongue as he followed Malfoy up the gravelled pathway towards the house.

However, instead of taking the steps up to the main entrance, Malfoy veered around to the side of the house and stopped by a blank, stone wall. Severus' guessed that this was not an ordinary wall, and his hunch was confirmed when Malfoy removed his leather glove and, wordlessly and without a wand, held his right hand up against the stone, tracing a shape with his fingertips. After a moment, an open archway appeared, not dissimilar to the one leading into Diagon Alley.

The edge of Malfoy's mouth turned up slightly. "This entranceway hasn't been needed for over one hundred years, Severus. I will teach you the spell, since, I imagine, you'll be here fairly frequently. Fortunately, I expect that you'll have a much more enjoyable time in the former dungeons than its previous occupants. Follow me."

Severus followed Malfoy and noted that, as soon as they had passed through the entrance, the archway disappeared into its stone-wall form.

"Lumos!"

The end of Malfoy's wand illuminated a long, dark, stone corridor, which slanted downwards as they walked, taking them further underground. It was very cold, and Severus could see the fog of his own breath that grew increasingly ragged the farther they descended. The corridor ended at a large oak door, which Malfoy opened with his wand and a muttered spell. It creaked as it opened to reveal a narrow, spiral, stone staircase.

"Nearly there," Malfoy called over his shoulder as he led the way down.

Another door and another spell later, Severus entered a large room, and Malfoy ignited the torches that were set into the walls, illuminating the space. Ignoring Malfoy's chuckles, Severus walked around the room, his mouth agape in astonishment, his fingers outstretched to touch, to absorb the reality of the most magnificent laboratory he had ever seen.

There were four large worktables with every manner of piping and glassware fitted to them. Shelf after shelf held every imaginable potions ingredient, clearly marked and ready for use. Cabinets with utensils and equipment to meet any need, lay waiting to be called to work. A large cupboard was filled with cauldrons of every type, size and thickness. And, best of all, one wall was lined with books. Severus recognised many of them from Lucius' library and many others that he had only heard about.

"This is glorious," Severus whispered, as if he were in a holy place.

"Well deserved, my young man," said a voice Severus did not recognise. He turned sharply to see Malfoy kneeling in obeisance to a tall man who Severus knew instinctively was Lord Voldemort. The most dangerous wizard alive held his hand gently atop Malfoy's head, and Severus forgot to breathe.

"You have done well, Lucius. I am pleased." His voice was soft, yet it conveyed a power that Severus had not experienced since he'd left Hogwarts; only the Headmaster had ever been able to evoke such a feeling.

"Thank you, my Lord," said Malfoy, rising to his feet and, with the flick of an eyebrow, motioned Severus forward. "This is our new Potions master, Severus Snape."

Severus stepped forward, sank to his knee and lowered his head, mimicking Malfoy's gesture. His heart thudded a tattoo in his chest. Incredibly, the Dark Lord knelt in front of him. Severus kept his eyes on the stone floor, too terrified to look up.

"You wish to join my service, young Snape?" Voldemort asked gently, with a kind of hopeful curiosity.

"Yes, my Lord." Severus was surprised that he was able to form coherent words.

"Let's have a look, shall we?"

Severus felt the wizard's long fingers clasp his jaw firmly, forcing his head up. Severus gasped in surprise as he saw dark eyes flash red as they captured his gaze. He felt Voldemort swiftly reach into his mind with amazing strength, probing and searching with precision and purpose. If Severus had thought to throw up his Occlumency shields, he would never have had a chance in the face of the wizard's vastly greater skill and power.

Instantly, memory after memory flashed through Severus' mind as Voldemort examined and discarded them rapidly: his mother, his father, living alone at Spinner's End, his studies, his teachers, his enemies, the Telling, his meetings with Malfoy, the apothecary and the dark enchantments already working in his blood. Severus felt his very soul sliced open for Voldemort's scrutiny; every failure, success, joy, disappointment and humiliation was poked and prodded and examined at will. As his memories and feelings about Dumbledore unfolded, he felt Voldemort pause to examine them more deeply, and seemed pleased to find Severus' distrust and dislike of his former Headmaster. When he evoked memories of Lily, Severus tried to pull away, to close his mind, but Voldemort held fast, ruthless in his thoroughness. He could feel the Dark Lord smile.

While Voldemort held his mind firmly, time had no proportion, weight, duration or meaning. The examination may have lasted minutes, hours or days. Finally, when the wizard released him, Severus slumped to the floor in exhaustion and nausea as the room spun around him.

Severus heard Voldemort and Malfoy speaking, but couldn't make out the words. He was relieved to be ignored for the moment and focused his energies on not being sick. He took several deep breaths, trying to force the bile he felt creeping up in his throat to recede.

After a moment, when the room had stopped moving, Severus felt a rush of anger and embarrassment at his display of weakness. He wanted to impress the Dark Lord, not collapse like some frightened first-year. But his self-recriminations were cut short when he felt Malfoy helping him to stand and press a bit of chocolate into his hand.

"Here, eat this," Malfoy said with encouragement. "It will help."

Malfoy didn't seem to be upset or disappointed. On the contrary, his mentor indicated that Severus had done well, and relief displaced his anger.

He took the chocolate and noticed that several leather chairs had appeared in the corner of the laboratory. Voldemort was sitting in one of them, observing Severus with a look of both fondness and curiosity; like watching a new pet to see how it would behave with its master. Which was, as Severus understood with sudden clarity, exactly what he was. Malfoy sat to one side of Voldemort and indicated that Severus should sit on the other.

Severus lowered himself into the indicated chair, took small bites of the chocolate, and, keeping his head down so that his hair masked his face, cast a sideways glance at Voldemort. He hadn't had a chance to really look before, and Severus wanted to take the measure of the man who was the most feared and powerful wizard in the world. He observed that Voldemort was lean and taut, and his fingers long and graceful. His face was oddly distorted, Severus noted, but it was his eyes that demanded attention. They were dark, almost as black as his hair, and the man never blinked. His eyes were hypnotic, Severus realised, and they refused to be ignored. From time to time, Severus thought he saw flashes of red flit across his pupils, the same red flash he had seen when Voldemort had invaded his mind, and an involuntary shiver went through him when he saw it again. Reclining, with his legs crossed casually, Voldemort didn't seem as frightening as he had before, but Severus was careful to keep his guard and Occlumency shields up... just in case.

"What do you think of your laboratory, Snape?" Voldemort asked with a sweep of his arm.

"My laboratory..." Severus repeated as he pulled himself out of his reverie over Voldemort's appearance.

"Malfoy, didn't you explain all this?" Voldemort snapped with a flash of impatience.

"Yes, sir," Malfoy replied quickly. "I think Snape is a bit... overwhelmed with your Lordships' generosity. Aren't you, Snape?"

The meaning of Malfoy's glare was obvious.

Severus snapped to attention. "Yes, I was not expecting anything nearly so... grand," Severus demurred as he watched Malfoy carefully.

Voldemort nodded. "I've been impressed by the quality of your work, Snape. It has been consistently excellent and already proved to be extremely valuable."

Severus bowed his head in a studied gesture of respect. "Thank you, sir."

He felt a jolt as Voldemort laid his hand atop his head. The hand began to stroke him with gentle and soothing caresses, and as he spoke, his voice resonated deeply, reaching into Severus' very soul.

"Yes, my son, I see great things in store for you. The knowledge you have always sought, I can give you. The respect that you crave will be yours. The yearnings of your heart will be granted. Everything you have dreamt of will be realised, young Snape. In your duty to me, all this can be yours."

Severus looked up, and as he fell into those fathomless eyes, he saw himself receiving the entirety of the Dark Lord's promise. He saw himself standing by the great wizard's side, powerful in his own right. He saw other wizards looking up to him with respect... even fear. He was suddenly filled with an unfamiliar rush of joy, and when Voldemort smiled at him, Severus felt something else, something he had so desperately longed for from his own father: acceptance and... love? Overwhelmed, he sensed tears prick at his eyes and he blinked hard to push them back.

"Don't be afraid of emotion, lad," Voldemort said, smoothly breaking eye contact, his pleasure evident. "I am delighted that I evoke such... devotion." He leaned in towards Severus and took both of his hands in his own, a double pair of long and slender fingers entwined. "It is time now," Voldemort whispered. "Are you ready to be bound to my service?"

Severus could only nod.

Yes. Devotion.

"Excellent! Malfoy, you will serve as our witness and assist our newest member." Voldemort stood and Severus followed, flooded with emotions he didn't recognise and couldn't describe, blood pounding in his head, his mind held in a thrall as moment followed moment in time with the beating of his heart. Severus knew there was no way to control the events that were unfolding and he had willingly relinquished any desire to do so.

He was only vaguely aware that Malfoy was helping him out of his robes and his shirt, leaving him bare-chested in the chill of the laboratory. He watched Voldemort remove his garments as well and wondered, with oddly detached curiosity, what the Binding would entail.

Then Voldemort was standing before him, and Severus was surprised to find that they were of equal height. In his imagination, Lord Voldemort was several heads taller.

"Extend your left arm," Lord Voldemort commanded.

Severus did so, and Voldemort grasped it, turning it so the smooth underside of his arm was facing upward.

"Severus," said Malfoy, who stood behind him, "you must not move. Do you understand?"

Severus nodded mutely.

Holding Severus' arm taut with his left hand, Voldemort began to chant a repetitive spell and trace a pattern across Severus' arm with the tip of his wand. Severus was rapt, caught up in the Binding, among the oldest of all Magic in the world. Suddenly, Voldemort's wand flared and a sharp flame began to eat into his exposed flesh, like a knife afire. Severus gasped, the pain beyond anything he had ever experienced, his eyes rolling back into his head. He was barely aware that Malfoy's hand was on his back, helping him remain upright. As the spell went on, and the fire continued to eat through the layers of his skin and bore into his veins, Severus began to scream, but Voldemort held tight and maintained his cadence. Just as he thought he might faint, the chanting stopped. Setting aside his wand, Voldemort placed the underside of his own left arm over Severus', now throbbing and covered with blood. Slowly, Voldemort lifted his arm until it hovered slightly above Severus' and, through the haze of his pain, Severus watched as the blood on his arm rose upwards, like hundreds of small red fingers reaching up towards the waiting skin of Voldemort's arm. As the rivulets of blood made contact with skin, they were absorbed, Severus' blood mingling with the Dark Lord's, binding one to the other, irrevocably, until death. Once the blood on Severus' arm was gone, Voldemort sealed the wound with his wand, leaving the reddened outline of a skull and serpent; the Binding and the Marking were complete.

As Voldemort released his grip, Severus collapsed into Malfoy's waiting arms, whimpering as the echoes of searing pain still screamed through his body. Malfoy helped him to sit atop one of the worktables, and began to expertly cover his arm with a numbing salve.

With a gesture, Voldemort was fully clothed once again and stood in front of Severus, his smile more twisted than before, his eyes flashing red.

"You will be reporting to Malfoy, Snape. But make no mistake," he said, trailing one finger gently down the length of Severus' face, "you belong to me." He grasped Severus' left arm and touched the newly made Mark. It took every ounce of Severus' remaining energy not to flinch or wince.

"When I call, you will appear at my side. When I bid, you will comply. When you disappoint me, you will feel my displeasure." Voldemort dropped Severus' arm.

"I'll expect you here tomorrow, Snape," Voldemort said, in a tone far more perfunctory than the caressing voice he'd used before the Binding. "There is much work to do."

Severus nodded weakly. Although he was still disoriented by the Binding spell, he was aware that something had changed in the voice that commanded him. Malfoy helped him off the table and indicated he should kneel. He did.

"Yes, my Lord. I will be here to do your bidding." He bowed his head. "I am always at your service."

Voldemort granted him a genuine smile, and then he was gone.

A/N: My thanks to my two diligent betas, celtmama and capella_black.