Becoming Familiar with a Man of Misery

Chapter 17 ~ Returning

Beaten and oozing, Severus lay on the floor in front of Voldemort’s throne for almost two days, deatheaters stepping over him as if he were a stray piece of garbage, and Voldemort randomly hitting him with short bursts of the Cruciatus curse when the thought crossed his mind. The Potions Master slipped in and out of consciousness. His back was severely ripped and torn, flesh hanging from it like macabre strips of ribbons. He reeked, covered in his own blood, urine and excrement. Peter occasionally threw a bucket of salted water over him from time to time, continuing his torture. Finally on Tuesday evening, Voldemort told Peter to ennervate him to consciousness.

Peter kicked Severus to his back, pulled out his wand and brought the wizard to full consciousness. The Potions Master opened his crusted eyes and grimaced as pain from his back making contact with the hard floor washed over him. The first face he saw was Peter Pettigrew, grinning down at him.

“Wakey, wakey,” the fat little bastard said.

“I’m going to kill you, Peter” Severus rasped at the rotund wizard, hate in his dark eyes.

Pale, Peter looked up at Voldemort, who narrowed his eyes at the Potions Master. Severus never made threats he didn’t intend on carrying out.

“Barely awake and already threatening my most trusted servant, Severus. You really have no idea how to be properly submissive, do you? Crucio!” the Dark Lord cried, hitting the already broken wizard with the Unforgivable.

Severus simply shuddered under the excruciating pain, his lips drawn back from his teeth, his eyes rolling up in his head. His back arched slightly. Not getting the reaction he wanted, Voldemort ended the torture. The wizard was no fun.

Severus continued shuddering for several more minutes…then fell into the spasms that were the result of the curse, coming about a minute apart. Voldemort looked down on him without pity.

“Severus,” Voldemort said to the broken, stinking wizard, “You may return to Hogwarts now. I trust next time you come into my presence, you will have news for me. But I need you back here Friday evening to brew a batch of elixir. Peter will milk Nagini later today for the venom you’ll need. Now, leave my presence.”

Severus, with great effort managed to roll over to his belly. His back was partially scabbed and oozing. He spasmed. Then disapparated.

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Raucous had spent a horrible day and a half, fighting to keep the images of Severus’ suffering out of his head, croaking miserably as his master was abused over and over again. The bird looked terrible. He hadn’t left the rooms at all since the Potions Master left. He hadn’t taken any food or water the entire time.

Dumbledore had come to Severus’ room, and although he had not quite forgiven Raucous for shitting on him, he did try to coax the bird down to give him something to eat. He noticed the raven was now bright yellow. The headmaster knew Hermione probably had something to do with it. She and the raven had an ongoing war.

“We all are worried about him, Raucous,” he called up to the bird.

Raucous scowled down at the old wizard, and if he had the strength would have shit on him for saying such a thing. No one cared about what happened to his master. At least that was what the bird believed. But there were four people concerned about him. Albus, Poppy, Minerva and Hermione.

Albus left the Potions Master’s study, setting the floo to green so Raucous could alert them if and when Severus returned.

Hermione went about her duties, but wasn’t a very good assistant. She had to be given instructions several times, and gazed blankly at the wall when she was supposed to be grading parchments. She absently botched a transfiguration demonstration when Professor McGonagall told her to transfigure a niffler into a trunk. She turned the creature into a skunk, which immediately did a handstand and set about improving the air quality, effectively driving everyone from the classroom.

“Really Hermione, you have to focus!” Minerva scolded after she restored the niffler, a kerchief held over her face. “We are all concerned about Severus, but life goes on, my dear. Life goes on!”

Hermione felt as if life had ground to a halt. Technically, she was doing what she was supposed to, earning her credits, working toward her degree, assisting other Professors. But she was in a kind of self-imposed limbo. She had been so focused on the Potions Master, his absence left a gaping hole inside her. The witch was little better off than Raucous, half eating and neglecting herself. Her hair looked horrible. She hadn’t given it a good brushing in almost two days. She couldn’t focus on herself while the Potions Master was gone and going through who knew what. She had to force herself to stay out of his rooms. She found herself entering it every hour or so initially, checking to see if he returned and aggravating Raucous. Finally she managed to stop. She was only tormenting herself.

What if he was dead?

No, he couldn’t be. Raucous would have made it known. The raven was upset and worried, but it wasn’t mourning.

All the witch could do was wait.

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Raucous was crouched on the rafters when he heard the thunderclap of apparation in Severus’ bedroom. The weak bird half-fluttered, half fell to the stone floor of the study and with all his strength hopped quickly to the bedroom. He saw his broken, bleeding Master lying face down on the floor. He had no shirt or shoes on and was very still. He smelled awful. The bird watched him closely and let out a soft squawk of relief as he saw Severus draw a ragged breath. Then the wizard began to spasm strongly.

Raucous hopped out of the bedroom, up to the floo and began making an awful racket.

“We’re coming, Raucous,” Albus’ voice sounded through the floo, “Poppy and I are on the way.”

Raucous hopped back into the bedroom, and over to the Potions Master. He stood peering down into his pale face for a moment, then preened his matted hair. Severus groaned. Raucous then stepped back a bit, and nestled down in front of the unconscious wizard to keep watch until help arrived.

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Peter scourgified the floor of the blood and shit left behind by the Potions Master, then walked over to the throne and took up position by the Dark Lord’s side. He was very quiet.

Voldemort looked at his servant. Usually Peter had a rather inane string of chatter going. The latest gossip, rumors and questionable acts of fellow deatheaters, tall tales about the latest women he had fucked and the like, all to keep the Dark Lord entertained. When Voldemort was bored, he was more likely to cast an Unforgivable for his amusement.

The evil wizard used the Imperius curse on Peter, rather than Crucio, and made the wizard do all manner of horrible, embarrassing acts. He had once made the fat little wizard strip and perform ballet in front of a group of tittering deatheater females, guffawing the entire time. Peter had looked like a fat, hairy little balding bear doing circus tricks. The deatheater wasn’t very flexible, so it had been quite painful.

“What’s wrong, Peter? You aren’t deluging me with chatter as usual,” the Dark Lord asked him, his red eyes fixed on the wizard. He looked into Peter’s mind and saw him being beaten mercilessly by Severus.

“Oh, you’re afraid the Potions Master will make good on his threat, eh Peter?” Voldemort said, amusement dancing across his scaly face. “Don’t worry. You are under my protection. He wouldn’t dare touch you.”

“Yes, my Lord,” Peter said, bowing slightly.

He wasn’t so sure about that. The Potions Master showed a surprising lack of fear of the Dark Lord, despite his constant suffering. The wizard would not break. He might go after him anyway. The Dark Lord wouldn’t kill Severus because he needed him.

Voldemort knew Peter’s doubts, and it irritated him that his servant feared the Potions Master would disobey him. That gave Severus too much power in the Dark Lord’s estimation. He already hated the wizard’s strength. He was a lion among the sheep, and therefore dangerous.

The Dark Lord was quite aware that Severus hated him as well. He could see it in the wizard’s eyes, if not actually discover it in his thoughts. The Potions Master’s mind was surprisingly empty of anything other than his teaching at Hogwarts. There were no other details of his life in evidence. And this made Voldemort suspicious. But he could never catch the wizard wrong. He looked at the worried Peter again.

“Get out of my sight, Peter,” he snarled at the fat wizard in irritation, “Go milk Nagini!”

Peter bowed.

“Yes, my Lord,” Peter said, bowing, then walking across the circular throne room and entering one of several doors spaced around the walls.

Nagini had her own room. It was better furnished than Peter’s own. The King Cobra had been with Voldemort for twenty-five years and was of enormous size. She also hated the fat wizard, and tried to bite him every time he came close to her. Naturally, Peter hated her as well, and would have liked to kill the snake, but she was Voldemort’s familiar, and had an even higher status in the Dark Lord’s eyes than he did. Peter had no doubt Voldemort would kill him if he harmed Nagini in any way.

Peter opened the door to the snake’s room cautiously. Nagini was coiled on a large cushion, apparently sleeping.

“Nagini. Nagini! I’ve come to milk you,” the fat wizard said, entering the room cautiously, his wand drawn, ready to cast the binding spell.

The snake didn’t move. That was odd because she was usually immediately alert the moment the wizard entered the room, ready for battle.

Peter cautiously approached the snake.

“Nagini?” he said, gingerly poking her in the tail with his wand. She still didn’t move. He moved to the great wedge-shaped head which rested on top of her coiled body. The evil eyes were staring sightlessly. Peter poked the head with his wand and it flopped over lifelessly.

“Oh shit,” Peter breathed, looking down at the snake, “She’s dead. Nagini’s dead.”

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Severus was lying on his stomach on a cot in the infirmary, Poppy tutting and clucking her tongue in sympathy as she worked on healing his ruined back. Albus and Raucous looked on. The bird looked a little better. Poppy had coaxed him into eating a little something.

“An animal. Worse than an animal. To do this to another human being,” she hissed, referring to the Dark Lord.

Albus looked on the injured wizard sadly.

“Yes. But Voldemort is hardly human, Poppy. He has next to no humanity left, he has altered himself so greatly in his constant search for power.”

“But why does he do this to a wizard who serves him, Albus?” Poppy asked him, her eyes glistening as she cut a strip of dead flesh from the Potions Master.

“Because, Poppy, Severus will not break. He continues to be strong, and the Dark Lord fears strength in anyone other than himself. The only reason Severus is not dead is because he is the only one that can brew the elixir that keeps Voldemort alive,” Albus said, wincing as the medi-witch had to cut open a badly healing wound. Severus groaned. He was awake, and heard them talking. He didn’t say anything however.

“He should poison the wizard,” she said, “fix the elixir so it will kill him.”

Albus shook his head.

“Voldemort is too smart for that, Poppy. The moment Severus created the proper elixir, he attached a signature spell to it for identification. He would be aware of any variation in the elixir immediately, and would punish the wizard even worse,” the Headmaster said.

This was true. If not for the spell that identified the potion, Severus would have killed Voldemort long ago.

Suddenly, Hermione pushed through the privacy curtain. Raucous looked at her and squawked disparagingly. Hermione walked up to the cot and looked at the Potion Master’s torn back. Poppy had cleaned him up, and a sheet covered the lower half of his naked body. Hermione’s eyes filled with tears for a moment.

“How is he?” she asked quietly.

Severus started at the witch’s voice. What was she doing here? He didn’t want her to see him like this.

“Out!” he rasped.

Poppy stopped working on him for a moment.

“What, Severus?” she asked the wizard, leaning closer to him. He whispered something to the medi-witch, who straightened and turned to Hermione with soft eyes.

“He wants you to leave,” she said to the witch.

Hermione looked at Poppy for a moment, then down at Severus.

“But why? I just want to know if he’s all right. If there’s anything I can do,” she said.

Poppy started to reply when the Potions Master suddenly groaned loudly and half rolled on to his side.

“Severus!” Poppy cried, running forward. “Lie down. What are you doing?”

With effort Severus rolled completely over and sat up, the sheet falling over his loins. Hermione got her first look at his lean, muscular upper body. He was strongly built, his chest defined and his belly ribbed. His shoulders were wider than she’d thought and she could see the cords in his arms. She could also see Voldemort’s mark. It was red and pulsating.

Severus grasped his Dark Mark, his face contorting with pain.

“I’m being summoned,” he hissed.

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A/N: Wow, Nagini’s dead, and Severus is being summoned after only being back for an hour or two. What’s going to happen next? Well, we’ll find out, won’t we? :::eg::: Please review.

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The Burning Pen

Becoming Familiar with a Man of Misery
by Ruth Solomon

The story content is adult in nature and can contain graphic sex and violence. Those under the age of 18 are asked to leave this site immediately. You are not welcome here. The author is not responsible for those under-aged who view these works.

CHAPTER 18

Disclaimer: All recognizable characters belong to JKR. All situations are mine. No $$$ is being made from this fanfic.
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