Harry Potter - Series Fan Fiction ❯ Inside me. ❯ Proven within the flames. ( Chapter 13 )

[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]

 

Poppy sagged slightly as tiredness weighed down her bones and she allowed her knees to buckle, dropping into her comfy armchair. The first rash of OWL-fever incidents had coincided with a particularly `competitive' Ravenclaw-Slytherin quidditch match. Both sides had played dirty, committing fouls left right and centre, gleefully knocking one another off their brooms like it was going out of fashion. The nurse was bone weary as a result of flitting between hysterical girls, boys who had misbrewed elicit study potions, inanimate objects that had once been transfiguration pupils, bruised and battered quidditch players and the usual illness and prank-related patients she had.

 

The gentle clinking of bottles drew Poppy out of her reverie and she stood to accept another tray of healing potions from the Snape lad. He may have been high-strung, stand-offish and quick to snarl, but he never refused her requests for potions and the work he produced was at least as good as the stuff she could buy in Hogsmeade. Poppy discreetly cast a checking charm to make sure all of the potions were what she had asked for. The poor boy never stood a chance really when you thought about it, even though his being misjudged was understandable given his abrasive manner. After several months of brewing for her though Poppy had discovered that sometimes the boy could be coaxed into a little innocuous conversation on neutral topics. Once or twice she had even managed to manoeuvre the boy into taking tea with her.

 

Today was not going to be one of those days though. The tray was set down with a steady rattling of glass that indicated a tremor in his pale skinny hands and his thin white lips were firmly pressed together. He followed the line of her gaze and glared back at her as he realised she had noticed his weakness. Teenage boys could be so proud. `Good work, Severus.' She informed him brusquely and passed him the requisition form he would present to Slughorn to claim back the money he'd spent on ingredients.

 

As he escaped Poppy's lips quirked upwards in a smile as she caught the jist of the venomous mumblings he was emitting. Some people just were not cut out to be one of life's little rays of sunshine.

 

It had been a bad week for Severus: too much to brew, the gruesome foursome's ebullience after the most recent Gryffindor quidditch win, the trauma of walking in on Bella Black and Viola Spigot's study session (on the subject of human sexuality apparently, and resulted in him receiving a sound hexing) as well as one of Hagrid's many and bizarre creatures eating the sleeve of his best robe. The beast had apparently enjoyed the experience so much it now tried to eat all of the rest of his clothes on sight. All in all he was not in a particularly good frame of mind for that evening's `excursion' with Lucius Malfoy. He sighed and made his was back to Slytherin common room to have a cup of strong sweet tea and prepare himself for the evening's entertainment.

 

Snape's eyes were gleaming as he donned his hood, mask and cloak. He allowed Lucius to lift the complex, powerful glamour on his left arm. Power and an apparent lack of sanity crackled about the boy in a palpable aura. The brat was in one of his queer moods again; it was a pity that he was not due to be at the forefront of tonight's raid. Such energy could be channelled to great effect and had been in the past. One particularly glorious excursion had started a certain whisper amongst his colleagues and a powerful melange of rumours was coalescing about that solitary young form. That would have to be managed carefully so as not to allow the brat to supersede him. Severus in these sorts of mood put Lucius on edge in a way only the least salubrious grown Deatheaters could manage to. He shoved his unease to one side and assumed a brisk tone with the boy, chivvying him on.

 

`This portkey will activate at the right moment. Our Lord wishes to see you alone. He apparently has especial need for your particular talents. Work diligently and you will gain great prizes. Our Lord does not tolerate failure.' Lucius' smooth, cultivated tones turned icy and threatening and Severus looked up to meet his mentor's gaze and his inhuman eyes shone with a fanatical fervour. He was so predictable. The insanity was still there, but Lucius could skilfully divert it down channels more suitable for his and the Dark Lord's purposes. Lucius almost regretted allowing the boy to fall so far into Dark magic, having watched that brilliant intellect warping over the years. The boy would never have evaded being tainted, but such black stains had been inflicted upon that soul that Lucius suspected he had lost some of the boy's potential in his indoctrination.

 

Lord Voldemort bade the youth remove his hood and mask before handing him a piece of scrap parchment upon which some incomplete academic notes. His Potions Master had found the fragment in the back of a mouldering old text the doxies had half-eaten. The man could probably reconstruct and refine the potion in a fraction of the time this adolescent could, but Voldemort had more pressing tasks for his Potions Master and in any case, the boy was as yet not fully tested. The Dark Lord watched closely as his young follower received the fragment and examined it. Dark eyes swept across the lines, devouring the alchemical shorthand and archaic vernacular as if his life depended upon it. Voldemort's eyes danced with sadistic amusement; of course Severus' life did depend upon this parchment. The instructions were vague at best and even the Dark Lord, who had not exactly been a poor potions student in his time, could not make sense of it.

 

The younger male made eye contact too easily. `How old is this formula? Do you have any idea what it was intended for? Is this a translation?' Like some common shopkeeper the boy launched an assault of questions as if it was his right to know. Voldemort's eyes narrowed and he pierced the mind before him. The arrogance was there, but all wrong, there was arrogance and irritation. He was offended at not being given all of the facts, there was an itching desire to unravel this mystery the Dark Lord had bestowed upon him and a hint of bemused hurt that he was seen as some mere potion-mixer who combined ingredients like an unskilled little muggle baker rather than the trustworthy, learned servant and researcher he was.

 

`You dare to question your Lord and Master, boy?' Voldemort's resonant voice was laden with menace.

 

Severus stood on the brink of a precipice. Voldemort sensed the apprehension within the boy's mind, but with a calculating edge. Then the skinny wretch tore his collar open in a fretful gesture and stared up at Voldemort with a determined glint in his eyes. Sweat stood out on his brow, giving lie to his extravagantly confident stance. `My Lord, I can either complete this project to your satisfaction or I can protect your sensibilities by failing to request vital facts.' He held the gaze for a moment, and then his composure cracked and he dropped to his knees and bowed forwards in complete obeisance.

 

On Voldemort's command Severus looked up and was pinned by his Master's aggressive stare. Voldemort tore through Snape's memories and emotions, breezing over the fanatical pursuit of knowledge, the joy of brewing and the furious rage of a youth determined to prove himself and beat all of the idiots who surrounded him. It was such a simple, yet powerful mind. The vitality and determination within the boy impressed Voldemort, but such impudence would not be tolerated. He answered the entirely valid questions Severus asked then paused artfully. `Of course although your childish little outburst may have been justified I will not permit such misdemeanours. Lucius! Come to my chamber!' He shouted through the heavy door. The blond Malfoy heir appeared with laudable briskness and bowed elegantly, showing the correct degrees of respect and awe. `Discipline your cur, Lucius.' As he strode out Voldemort had a thought and called an addenda over his shoulder without breaking step. `And do not be afraid to get your hands dirty, the manual labour will do you good!'

 

`You should know better than to antagonise our Lord, Severus.' Lucius purred and his voice darkened with an erotic undertone. Snape had heard this tone before, but never directed at him. He knew his protector has a sadistic streak and had long hoped to put off experiencing it first-hand for as great an interval as he could manage.

 

Severus looked up into the bright perverted stare and his mouth quirked to display his crooked yellowing teeth in a grin. `Yes, I suppose I ought.' The grin faded and his amusement rapidly vanished as he realised just how much amusement his so-called protector would derive from this particular disciplining session. It was the first one Voldemort had bid Lucius to perform without any restraints. Severus' nerve failed and he ducked his head hurriedly, allowing stringy fronds of greasy hair to obscure his view.

 

`Just be grateful to your tender years, brat. If it weren't for the fact that you must blend in at school I'd thoroughly enjoy testing out a few archaic little spells and treatments I saw mentioned in my ancestral journals.' Lucius looked down at the ostensibly submissive wretch knelt before him and laughed, Voldemort's favour was unpredictable and could be as dangerous as his ire. Lucius caressed Severus' face in an obscene parody of tenderness. `This is going to hurt me more than it hurts you, dear boy.'