snarrymod (snarrymod) wrote in snarry_games, @ 2006-04-17 19:14:00 |
|
|||
Current mood: | hopeful |
TEAM ANGST ENTRY - SLEEP DEPRIVATION
Original poster: snarrymod
Prompt: Sleep Deprivation
Title: And Given Unto Me
Author: acidquill
Disclaimer: Nothing in the Potterverse is mine, mores the pity. I merely play with the characters' heads and then give them back.
Rating: PG-13
Word count: 1177
Beta: windandsummer, thanks so much doll
Notes/warnings: Warnings/Kinks Pop-Up
Fool boy. To get himself captured now, not even a year after…fool boy. Severus watched Greyback toss an unconscious Potter at the Dark Lord's feet. Voldemort nudged Potter in the ribs.
"So this is all that's left of Albus' little hero? Well, we will have to make sure he makes Albus proud."
Severus stood in the shadows and said nothing. He felt something inside him crumble with each syllable of Dumbledore's name. Someone came and dragged Potter off to the makeshift dungeon.
Severus went back to his workroom and did not dwell on what was happening to the boy. He set the cauldron to simmer and chopped angelica into tiny precise pieces. Potter's screams echoed down the corridor.
Stupid, foolish child.
*
"I want to break him. But something different I think. Something special." Voldemort studied Snape, a speculative light in his red eyes. "He's very much like you Severus. I am sure you can think of something appropriate."
Severus remembered appropriate. He knew exactly what the Dark Lord demanded.
He bowed stiffly and remembered not to let his hands shake.
*
The bottle was innocuous enough, clear glass and a simple cork stopper. But there was no label; there was no need for one. Absque Somnio. Severus could not forget. Absque Somnio. The name lurked at the back of his head, and twisted in his mouth. He would not say it. The bile rose in his throat; there was only one word that fit what simmered in that cauldron: despair.
He measured out the potion to the exact fluid ounce and sealed it up. The Dark Lord was waiting.
Voldemort held the bottle up to the light. The potion didn't sparkle, didn't slosh; it was perfect and pitch black. "Just as it should be." Voldemort smiled, a thin slash laced with malice.
"It has been a while since you last brewed this for me Severus. I believe Mr. Potter would much prefer you to administer this, don't you think?"
Snape bowed stiffly.
"Yes, my lord."
*
The first day was baptism by fire; Somnio began its work, searing in its intensity. Severus watched through the mullioned door of Potter's cell. The boy scratched viciously at his arms until they bled. It did no good. Severus' own arms itched with the memory of fire racing along his veins, stealing away any hope of peace; if he rolled up his sleeves the scars were faint, but still there.
He watched until Potter gave up and just lay on the floor hugging himself tightly, face pressed to the cool stone. That didn't help either, Severus remembered, but it was something.
The second day was drowning. Sleep, like precious air, floated just beyond reach; the impossibility of it all was maddening. Potter scrubbed at his eyes with the heels of his hands. Severus stood outside the door. Soon enough the boy would understand. Sleep would not be coming; Somnio had stolen it away. He remembered that he had hated the second day the most.
The fourth day was terror. Voldemort had not come to see the boy yet, but Bellatrix had. She pushed past Severus and spelled the door behind her. No more than an hour later, she emerged silently and looked very satisfied. Potter screamed until he was hoarse; there was a giant black bird who wanted to peck out his eyes. Bellatrix just smiled. That night Severus sat outside the boy's cell. He recited the ever-increasing list of his sins silently in his head. He listened to Potter have a fevered conversation with a non-existent Weasley.
*
There was a moment when he stopped. He stood with his hand on the latch and wanted to turn around and lock himself in his room until this fit of apparent madness passed. Instead Severus opened the door and stepped inside. He expected Potter to scream at him, call him murderer; he wanted the boy to hate him. Surely then he could put the boy out of his mind. He could go back to being the bastard; he was exceedingly good at it. Potter ran at him.
Severus braced himself, but the boy didn't scream, didn't fight. Potter clung to him like a small child and cried. Severus flinched. This, he was not prepared for; he pried the boy's fingers from his robes and fled. That night he stayed in his own bed, but couldn't sleep. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw Potter's face. Dumbledore's last words replayed over and over again in his mind.
"He needs you Severus."
*
He went to Potter again. The boy wavered on his feet, clutched at Severus' robes; Severus stood still. Thin hands held his wrists in a vise grip. "'m tired."
Potter's voice sounded very small and unsteady. Severus said nothing; he let the boy lean against him for several minutes. When he tried to pull Potter's hands away, the boy clung tighter. "Nonononono…" Severus dropped his hands.
"Hush."
Potter stilled slightly and quieted; Severus remembered the feeling of everything slipping too quickly away, the world cracking apart and leaving no where solid to stand. Anything would do for an anchor, anything and anyone real and solid and there. For him it had been Voldemort, and later, differently, Dumbledore. Now Potter had chosen him; it was only fitting. Severus never expected the boy to kiss him, but Potter was suddenly right there, mouth trembling and desperate. The bitter taste of Somnio seeped into his mouth, but he didn't pull away. There wasn't a good reason and Severus didn't look for one. It was almost as if he'd known it would happen all along.
*
He knew what Albus meant. There had been so much grief and rage and pain afterwards that Severus had refused to believe that he could help anyone. Never mind Potter, certainly not himself. But now he understood.
"He needs you Severus."
There were things to be done, and only he could make sure it all turned out right; there would be no regrets. Severus was ready to be needed.
*
The empty bottle was a slight reassuring weight in his pocket. He took the boy's face in his hands and kissed him, Somnio's antidote slipping between them. Harry slumped against his chest; Severus held Harry close and whispered harshly against his ear.
"You understand don't you? I had to. I would take it from you if I were able. If there was time. But there isn't. There isn't. I am sending you to Lupin. I know he's camped out in that cursed house. Forget all about this Harry. Forget what happened and just live. That's all I want from you." He pressed the bottle into Harry's hand. Almost time now.
Severus counted the seconds off like a rosary. With only a few left he kissed the boy again. Harry made a soft sound in his throat, still half unaware of what was going on; Severus closed his eyes. When he opened them, the boy was gone, port-keyed to safety. He allowed himself a small smile; yes, this was how it was supposed to end.