McKay (scribbulus_ink) wrote in time_of_storms, @ 2006-01-17 19:58:00 |
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Original poster: black_cauldron
Music: El Tango de Roxanne, from Moulin Rouge
"Bloody fucking hell."
It wasn't like Severus to curse very often, but the words on the parchment he was holding made him unleash every epithet in his not-insubstantial repertoire, one picked up from years of teaching adolescents and associating with some rather unsavory parts of society. It took him several minutes to exhaust his creativity, but when he started repeating himself he stopped, glaring at the inoffensive scrap of paper as though it were the sole author of his annoyance.
The real author in question, in fact, could only annoy him because the sodding bastard had come to mean too much to Severus over the last few months. Lupin had definitely gotten under his skin, especially after the last few days and the way they had spent them, more in bed than out. Severus had never realized his own true capacity for passion, for need, until Lupin had pulled it from him with bites and growls and overwhelming, repeated indulgence in mindless rapture, one that had driven away the pain of Cruciatus more effectively than any potion. Even now Severus' body seemed to ache for Remus' touch, which made the notification that Remus was going to Bulgaria all the more hard for Severus to take.
He said he would take care of me... and now he's run off, quite possibly to get himself killed at the hands of a pack of moronic, uncivilized lycanthropes. And if that happens, I'll be back right where I have always been. Alone.
The thought made Severus scowl more fiercely, then more fiercely still as he realized he cared at all. His independence, his decades-long separation from almost all his peers - either good or evil - had been easier to take before he had been forced to confront how bloody lonely it really was. And now that Lupin had forced him to confront that loneliness, the damned idiot had gone traipsing off, leaving Severus with no help, no contact, no one. He hated the feeling, and hated the fact that he hated it.
He also hated the nasty little voice in the back of his mind which taunted him with the thought that perhaps Lupin had volunteered to go, that he had decided a snarky, greasy, treason-tainted bastard wasn't worth it. Perhaps Lupin had even taken Tonks with him to Bulgaria... after all, as a metamorphmagus she could safely travel with him, pretending to be anything.
Jealousy coursed through Severus, and he contemplated drawing his wand and just randomly firing hexes at the walls to let out his pent up frustration. Before he could do so, however, the Dark Mark on his arm began to burn, and Severus gasped, turning to gaze at it with a mixture of loathing and speculation.
He and Lupin had discussed what he should do when summoned, if he were summoned, but there was really no telling what poison Bellatrix may or may not have planted in Voldemort's ear. She might be playing it cool, pretending no knowledge at all, perhaps even suggesting that someone go to Spinner's End to see if he had deserted. Or she might have fabricated a story about his loyalty, and the summons he was getting right now was going to wind up being fateful in a way that was not good at all.
Whatever the outcome, however, Severus had almost no choice than to answer this summons. If he did not, he really would be seen as a traitor, Bellatrix would win and all his work, all his sacrifices and those of Albus Dumbledore would be for naught. Whether it meant his death or not, Severus could do nothing but answer the summons, and hope that the luck and skill which had protected his life to this point continued to work.
It was a slim hope, perhaps, but unfortunately for him it seemed to be the only one on offer at the moment.
Growling, Severus erased the parchment, not admitting to himself that he had already memorized the words anyway, and stuffed it in the pocket of his robes. With grim determination he strode to the clothes cupboard, pulling out his Death Eater robes and the blank white mask that he loathed. As he shrugged into the dark fabric he contemplated his last moments with Remus, just before Remus had left only hours before. Would they be the last hours they ever had together? And if so, would Severus forever wish that they could have had one more kiss, one more touch, one more moment...
The burn of the Mark grew stronger, and Severus gritted his teeth in frustration. He settled the mask over his face, and then he lifted his wand, casting the Apparation spell keyed to the Dark Mark, the one that would carry him to his meeting with whatever fate awaited him.
As it turned out, the place in question was one of Bellatrix's houses, one that Severus recognized immediately from having been there years before. It put him automatically on the defensive, for no doubt this was a bad sign for his continued well being. Or it was if Bellatrix had her way. There was no remedy for it, however, but Severus kept his hand curled around his wand as he walked slowly forward, joining the milling throng of black robed figures who were moving toward the far end of the room, where Voldemort sat enthroned.
Sure enough, Bellatrix was by the Dark Lord's side, leaning over the pale form and speaking urgently. Severus moved around to one side, so that he could creep up as silently as possible, wondering what she was saying. Fortunately many of the other Death Eaters still wore their masks as well, and so Severus was anonymous, just another form approaching his Lord to pay homage.
"I am merely saying that I still question his loyalty, My Lord," Bellatrix said, voice harsh with venom. "Greyback says there is an attitude among the werewolves, and Severus is your envoy to them. What if he is trying to turn them against you? I wonder if he will even show his face tonight, since no doubt there will be treason written upon every line of it. I don't trust him, My Lord. And neither should you."
A look of speculation crossed Voldemort's face, and Severus seethed, furious at Bellatrix's words. Not merely because they were true in many ways, but because she could endanger not only him but Remus as well. And even with all that she had done to he himself, Severus was not going to tolerate anything which jeopardized the one person that still mattered to him on a personal level.
Stripping off his mask, Severus stepped forward. "Is that so, my dear Bella?" he purred, voice as smooth as silk as a nasty smirk curved his lips. The smirk grew even more foul as Bellatrix turned, her face going first pale, then flushing red with fury. She obviously had been counting on his death, and Severus was very glad - in more ways than one - to disappoint her on that score.
But now was not the time to lose the upper hand by gloating, and so with a firm stride Severus stepped forward, standing directly before Voldemort and bowing his head in respect. The words he uttered showed none of his inner loathing, for the game must be played now... even if it meant playing to the death.
"You have summoned, My Lord, and I, your most faithful servant, have answered. What is your bidding, my Master?"