Parvus Obitus - Part 3
Feb. 2nd, 2005 05:57 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
darnedchildSummary: Voldemort wants a potion made, and Severus is having difficulty finding the most important ingredient.
Originally completed in early 2004.
Rating: NC-17 (to be safe)
A/N - Anything you recognize, I don't own. The Harry Potter-verse belongs to J.K. Rowlings.
Parvus Obitus
Waiting For the Call
Snape dismissed the fourth year Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs, thankful that his last class of the day was finally over. He had been looking forward to a quick supper and a quiet night with a good book.
He briefly considered asking Ms. Granger to join him for a glass of wine after dinner, then quickly dismissed the idea, just as he had almost every evening for the past four and a half weeks. Their ... for want of a better word, relationship had been strained after the incident. They were finally getting to the point where the silences weren’t as awkward. It had been days since he’d caught himself watching as she absentmindedly nibbled on a quill and found himself instantly hard. True, as he lay in his bed at night he still heard her voice crying out his name. But he would work through that.
No, best to limit his time with Ms. Granger for the moment and save the invitation for another time. He stood at the lectern, waiting for the students to file out of the room. Before the door could close behind the last of them Professor McGonagall rushed into the lab. Her face was pinched with worry, and she was wringing her hands together.
Her distress was obvious; Snape did not hesitate before closing the distance between them.
“What is it, Minerva? Is it Albus?”
She shook her head emphatically. “No, thank Merlin.” She grasped one of his hands in both of hers and squeezed. “It’s very bad, Severus. Ronald Weasley was taken last evening.”
Snape tried to free his captured limb but she would not loosen her grip. “I suppose Albus wants me to find the boy.”
He didn’t see the need for hysterics. Yes, the boy was in danger, but the likelihood of the Dark Lord murdering him outright was slim. He would be tortured for information and then used as bait for the real target. Potter.
McGonagall’s stranglehold on his hand increased. “Albus received Harry Potter’s owl not more than fifteen minutes ago. Somehow Harry discovered where Ronald was being held. He and Hermione left early this morning to rescue the boy.”
Snape’s heart stopped for a split second. “Hermione? Potter and Ms. Granger ran off to face a party of ... alone?”
He wrenched his hand free and began to pace the room. “Of all the idiotic ... I expected better of her.” He stopped and McGonagall could almost see his mind working. “If they left this morning, why are we just now receiving word?”
McGonagall went back to her hand wringing. “He knew we would try to stop them. They wanted to get to Ronald before he was taken to He-who-can-not-be-named. They informed no one of their plans.”
– ~ –
Sandwiches were brought to the Headmaster’s office, but they remained undisturbed on the platter. Neither Dumbledore nor McGonagall felt like eating, and Snape hadn’t stopped pacing long enough to notice the food.
The facts were scarce. Dumbledore had used his contacts at the Ministry to discover that Weasley and a few friends were accosted on the way home from a Chudley Cannons exhibition match. The friends, including one fellow Auror-in-training, were beaten into unconsciousness but left relatively unharmed. The attack was so sudden that none of the remaining boys could give a reasonable description of the assailants.
Snape and Dumbledore both agreed that there was something odd about the abduction. There were too many chances taken, too many witnesses for a premeditated Death Eater strike.
Snape summed up their thoughts with a single sentence. “It was an attack of opportunity.”
There was nothing they could do but wait.
The night was half gone before Dumbledore froze, quill hand hovering in mid air.
“What is it, Albus?” McGonagall hurried across the office to his side. Snape looked up from the book he had been staring at for over an hour.
Dumbledore rose on unsteady legs. He gestured toward the office door and it flew open. The sounds of stone moving across stone echoed through the antechamber and filled the office.
The battered figure of the Boy-who-lived appeared at the top of the stairs, followed closely by the massive form of the Hogwarts groundskeeper. Hagrid seemed to be carrying someone, probably Weasley.
Snape let Dumbledore and McGonagall rush forward to inspect the Boy Wonder and Friend, McGonagall acting like a mother hen to her Gryffindor chicks.
Snape watched Hagrid settle the beaten but conscious Weasley in a chair, then turned to wait for the last of the trio to appear in the doorway. Moments passed and the expected face did not appear. Snape’s eyes narrowed and he turned to confront Potter.
Questions were being thrown at Potter from McGonagall and the Headmaster. Every time he tried to say something, someone would ask him if he and Weasley were all right or chastize him for running off without back up. The twelve ton boulder of worry seemed to crush his chest and every time he tried to talk, to tell them what was wrong, he could only wheeze and cough mono-syllabic phrases.
His imploring gaze caught the Potions Master’s icy glare.
“Where. Is. She.” Snape did not raise his voice, but didn’t need to. The menace in his tone left no doubt as to his temperament.
Potter drew in a shuttered breath and tried unsuccessfully to talk.
Snape stalked across the room and pulled the stuttering man to his feet, ignoring McGonagall’s protests. “Tell me where she is, boy, or so help me I will kill you myself.”
“He can’t.” The croak-like noise came from the red-headed lump in the chair. “He got hit with a spell.”
Potter’s earnest nod confirmed Weasley’s tale. Snape dropped his hands in disgust and he gave his full attention to the red-head.
“What happened to Hermione?”
Weasley flicked his tongue across his split lower lip and tried to pull himself up into a seated position. He aimed a grateful look at the half-giant when Hagrid propped him up with one large hand.
“When I woke up after the attack, there were four of them in dark robes and hoods. They kept saying how pleased the Master was going to be when they told him how they had seen ‘Potter’s sidekick’ and taken him ... me.” He paused to swallow, his throat obviously dry. McGonagall handed him a glass of water, and after drinking most of the glass he continued.
“They had me tied up in some old shack. They were waiting for something, some signal or something. After what seemed like forever there was this horrible racket outside and two of them went to see what it was.”
Potter managed to force out the semblance of a word, looking relieved that the effects of the spell were starting to fade. “H’mionee.”
Weasley nodded. “Right. Hermione. I could hear her casting spells right and left. Suddenly, one of the two remaining guys got hit by a stunning spell and Harry appeared. It all went crazy after that.”
Snape’s hands were balled into fists at his sides. He was fighting the urge to wrap his hands around Weasley’s throat. Or Potter’s. Or both.
“Ms. Granger?” He reminded Weasley to get to the point.
Weasley had the decency to flush. “Right. We were getting away, the three of us, when a handful of Death Eaters apparated with no warning. That’s when Harry got hit, to keep him from casting, I think. We were surrounded, Harry holding me up, and Hermione yelled out our names and threw this at us.” From out of his pocket he pulled a small stone paperweight with the letters “HG” carved across the top. “It was a port key. Harry and I ended up outside the gates of the school. There was no sign of Hermione.”
“Do you have any idea what you’ve done?” Snape’s barely audible query was a hundred times worse than if he had yelled. “You left her to the wolves. If we can’t find where they’ve taken her, death won’t come soon enough for her.”
– ~ –
The Order was called and a plan was made. What was to be rescue mission quickly escalated, Potter’s fury and guilt urging them on. All they needed was a location.
For that, they turned to Snape.
His discreet inquiries at the Malfoy Manor had turned up nothing, although Lucius had been quite intrigued at the thought of Potter’s female sidekick at the mercy of the Dark Lord. He had given Snape his word that he would notify the Potions Master if he heard anything, believing Snape wanted to witness the entertainment as much as he.
Snape had been left with a foul taste in his mouth after that conversation.
Hours passed and still no word.
He could do nothing but wait for the summons. He was both dreading and eager for the moment when the mark would begin to burn.
He sat in a darkened corner of the Headmaster’s office, a bundle containing his robes and mask within reach. The others were chittering nervously, and Snape tuned them out. Each had a job to do, people to lead.
His job was relatively simple. When the summons came he would apparate blindly as usual. Only this time he wouldn’t be alone; Remus Lupin and Potter’s old cloak would be along for the ride.
Potter had wanted to go, but Dumbledore had finally been able to talk some sense into the boy. No, better to send someone who wasn’t mentally connected to the Dark Lord.
Enter Lupin, with his remarkably keen senses and skill with the counter curses. Snape would lead him to the meeting, and Lupin would lead the others.
All Snape had to do while he waited for the cavalry was keep himself and Ms. Granger alive. She was his responsibility during the battle, and if her condition was life-threatening he was to bring her to Madame Pomfrey at the earliest opportunity. Dumbledore’s orders were very clear on the matter; he would not allow her to be lost.
Easier said than done.
The mark began to burn and Snape stood, the only outward sign of discomfort his clenched fist. Silence descended upon the room. He picked up his bundle and motioned toward Lupin.
The trip through the castle was a blur of color and sound as everyone in Dumbledore’s office saw them off.
Potter stopped him before he moved to step outside the wards of the castle.
“Please, sir. I know we’ve never seen eye to eye, but Albus is right. If anyone can bring her back, it’s you.”
Snape bit back his retort. He nodded once, made sure Lupin was holding on to him, and stepped out of wards.
Seconds later he found himself in a clearing near an old cottage. The tap on his right shoulder told him that Lupin had made the trip and was leaving to find a landmark for the others.
The faint glow of candlelight from the windows drew Snape toward the cottage. The door was guarded by only one man, and Snape passed him without a word.
The single room was crowded with a dozen black-robed figures. Snape pushed past most of them toward the center of the room. As he stepped out from the throng of spectators, the horrific voice of the Dark Lord greeted him.
“Just in time. I would hate for you to miss this, Severus. Tonight, we’ll get to witness the effects of the Parvus Obitus first-hand. This should be interesting.” He nodded toward one of the masked men near the corner of the room.
Snape watched, horrified, as the man turned and began to drag something toward the Dark Lord.
At first Snape thought she’d been beaten like Weasley, she was so still. Then he realized that she was bound, hands and feet, and gagged. She was searching her surroundings, looking for a way to escape. The man pulled the gag out of her mouth and pulled her head back, holding her by the chin.
Voldemort’s reptilian mouth seemed to stretch into the caricature of a grin. “I’ll give you one more chance to tell me where Potter is, child. Then we will use the potion.”
Hermione tried to pull her chin out of the Death Eater’s hand. “Your threats don’t scare me.”
“Not a threat, child. Fact. I planned on using the potion whether you told us or not.” Voldemort nodded to another Death Eater and the small vial of potion Snape had produced for the Dark Lord appeared from within his robes.
Hermione’s panicked eyes met his as her mouth was forced open. As viscous liquid began to slide out of the vial, chaos erupted.
Part 1 / Part 4
Originally completed in early 2004.
Rating: NC-17 (to be safe)
A/N - Anything you recognize, I don't own. The Harry Potter-verse belongs to J.K. Rowlings.
Waiting For the Call
Snape dismissed the fourth year Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs, thankful that his last class of the day was finally over. He had been looking forward to a quick supper and a quiet night with a good book.
He briefly considered asking Ms. Granger to join him for a glass of wine after dinner, then quickly dismissed the idea, just as he had almost every evening for the past four and a half weeks. Their ... for want of a better word, relationship had been strained after the incident. They were finally getting to the point where the silences weren’t as awkward. It had been days since he’d caught himself watching as she absentmindedly nibbled on a quill and found himself instantly hard. True, as he lay in his bed at night he still heard her voice crying out his name. But he would work through that.
No, best to limit his time with Ms. Granger for the moment and save the invitation for another time. He stood at the lectern, waiting for the students to file out of the room. Before the door could close behind the last of them Professor McGonagall rushed into the lab. Her face was pinched with worry, and she was wringing her hands together.
Her distress was obvious; Snape did not hesitate before closing the distance between them.
“What is it, Minerva? Is it Albus?”
She shook her head emphatically. “No, thank Merlin.” She grasped one of his hands in both of hers and squeezed. “It’s very bad, Severus. Ronald Weasley was taken last evening.”
Snape tried to free his captured limb but she would not loosen her grip. “I suppose Albus wants me to find the boy.”
He didn’t see the need for hysterics. Yes, the boy was in danger, but the likelihood of the Dark Lord murdering him outright was slim. He would be tortured for information and then used as bait for the real target. Potter.
McGonagall’s stranglehold on his hand increased. “Albus received Harry Potter’s owl not more than fifteen minutes ago. Somehow Harry discovered where Ronald was being held. He and Hermione left early this morning to rescue the boy.”
Snape’s heart stopped for a split second. “Hermione? Potter and Ms. Granger ran off to face a party of ... alone?”
He wrenched his hand free and began to pace the room. “Of all the idiotic ... I expected better of her.” He stopped and McGonagall could almost see his mind working. “If they left this morning, why are we just now receiving word?”
McGonagall went back to her hand wringing. “He knew we would try to stop them. They wanted to get to Ronald before he was taken to He-who-can-not-be-named. They informed no one of their plans.”
Sandwiches were brought to the Headmaster’s office, but they remained undisturbed on the platter. Neither Dumbledore nor McGonagall felt like eating, and Snape hadn’t stopped pacing long enough to notice the food.
The facts were scarce. Dumbledore had used his contacts at the Ministry to discover that Weasley and a few friends were accosted on the way home from a Chudley Cannons exhibition match. The friends, including one fellow Auror-in-training, were beaten into unconsciousness but left relatively unharmed. The attack was so sudden that none of the remaining boys could give a reasonable description of the assailants.
Snape and Dumbledore both agreed that there was something odd about the abduction. There were too many chances taken, too many witnesses for a premeditated Death Eater strike.
Snape summed up their thoughts with a single sentence. “It was an attack of opportunity.”
There was nothing they could do but wait.
The night was half gone before Dumbledore froze, quill hand hovering in mid air.
“What is it, Albus?” McGonagall hurried across the office to his side. Snape looked up from the book he had been staring at for over an hour.
Dumbledore rose on unsteady legs. He gestured toward the office door and it flew open. The sounds of stone moving across stone echoed through the antechamber and filled the office.
The battered figure of the Boy-who-lived appeared at the top of the stairs, followed closely by the massive form of the Hogwarts groundskeeper. Hagrid seemed to be carrying someone, probably Weasley.
Snape let Dumbledore and McGonagall rush forward to inspect the Boy Wonder and Friend, McGonagall acting like a mother hen to her Gryffindor chicks.
Snape watched Hagrid settle the beaten but conscious Weasley in a chair, then turned to wait for the last of the trio to appear in the doorway. Moments passed and the expected face did not appear. Snape’s eyes narrowed and he turned to confront Potter.
Questions were being thrown at Potter from McGonagall and the Headmaster. Every time he tried to say something, someone would ask him if he and Weasley were all right or chastize him for running off without back up. The twelve ton boulder of worry seemed to crush his chest and every time he tried to talk, to tell them what was wrong, he could only wheeze and cough mono-syllabic phrases.
His imploring gaze caught the Potions Master’s icy glare.
“Where. Is. She.” Snape did not raise his voice, but didn’t need to. The menace in his tone left no doubt as to his temperament.
Potter drew in a shuttered breath and tried unsuccessfully to talk.
Snape stalked across the room and pulled the stuttering man to his feet, ignoring McGonagall’s protests. “Tell me where she is, boy, or so help me I will kill you myself.”
“He can’t.” The croak-like noise came from the red-headed lump in the chair. “He got hit with a spell.”
Potter’s earnest nod confirmed Weasley’s tale. Snape dropped his hands in disgust and he gave his full attention to the red-head.
“What happened to Hermione?”
Weasley flicked his tongue across his split lower lip and tried to pull himself up into a seated position. He aimed a grateful look at the half-giant when Hagrid propped him up with one large hand.
“When I woke up after the attack, there were four of them in dark robes and hoods. They kept saying how pleased the Master was going to be when they told him how they had seen ‘Potter’s sidekick’ and taken him ... me.” He paused to swallow, his throat obviously dry. McGonagall handed him a glass of water, and after drinking most of the glass he continued.
“They had me tied up in some old shack. They were waiting for something, some signal or something. After what seemed like forever there was this horrible racket outside and two of them went to see what it was.”
Potter managed to force out the semblance of a word, looking relieved that the effects of the spell were starting to fade. “H’mionee.”
Weasley nodded. “Right. Hermione. I could hear her casting spells right and left. Suddenly, one of the two remaining guys got hit by a stunning spell and Harry appeared. It all went crazy after that.”
Snape’s hands were balled into fists at his sides. He was fighting the urge to wrap his hands around Weasley’s throat. Or Potter’s. Or both.
“Ms. Granger?” He reminded Weasley to get to the point.
Weasley had the decency to flush. “Right. We were getting away, the three of us, when a handful of Death Eaters apparated with no warning. That’s when Harry got hit, to keep him from casting, I think. We were surrounded, Harry holding me up, and Hermione yelled out our names and threw this at us.” From out of his pocket he pulled a small stone paperweight with the letters “HG” carved across the top. “It was a port key. Harry and I ended up outside the gates of the school. There was no sign of Hermione.”
“Do you have any idea what you’ve done?” Snape’s barely audible query was a hundred times worse than if he had yelled. “You left her to the wolves. If we can’t find where they’ve taken her, death won’t come soon enough for her.”
The Order was called and a plan was made. What was to be rescue mission quickly escalated, Potter’s fury and guilt urging them on. All they needed was a location.
For that, they turned to Snape.
His discreet inquiries at the Malfoy Manor had turned up nothing, although Lucius had been quite intrigued at the thought of Potter’s female sidekick at the mercy of the Dark Lord. He had given Snape his word that he would notify the Potions Master if he heard anything, believing Snape wanted to witness the entertainment as much as he.
Snape had been left with a foul taste in his mouth after that conversation.
Hours passed and still no word.
He could do nothing but wait for the summons. He was both dreading and eager for the moment when the mark would begin to burn.
He sat in a darkened corner of the Headmaster’s office, a bundle containing his robes and mask within reach. The others were chittering nervously, and Snape tuned them out. Each had a job to do, people to lead.
His job was relatively simple. When the summons came he would apparate blindly as usual. Only this time he wouldn’t be alone; Remus Lupin and Potter’s old cloak would be along for the ride.
Potter had wanted to go, but Dumbledore had finally been able to talk some sense into the boy. No, better to send someone who wasn’t mentally connected to the Dark Lord.
Enter Lupin, with his remarkably keen senses and skill with the counter curses. Snape would lead him to the meeting, and Lupin would lead the others.
All Snape had to do while he waited for the cavalry was keep himself and Ms. Granger alive. She was his responsibility during the battle, and if her condition was life-threatening he was to bring her to Madame Pomfrey at the earliest opportunity. Dumbledore’s orders were very clear on the matter; he would not allow her to be lost.
Easier said than done.
The mark began to burn and Snape stood, the only outward sign of discomfort his clenched fist. Silence descended upon the room. He picked up his bundle and motioned toward Lupin.
The trip through the castle was a blur of color and sound as everyone in Dumbledore’s office saw them off.
Potter stopped him before he moved to step outside the wards of the castle.
“Please, sir. I know we’ve never seen eye to eye, but Albus is right. If anyone can bring her back, it’s you.”
Snape bit back his retort. He nodded once, made sure Lupin was holding on to him, and stepped out of wards.
Seconds later he found himself in a clearing near an old cottage. The tap on his right shoulder told him that Lupin had made the trip and was leaving to find a landmark for the others.
The faint glow of candlelight from the windows drew Snape toward the cottage. The door was guarded by only one man, and Snape passed him without a word.
The single room was crowded with a dozen black-robed figures. Snape pushed past most of them toward the center of the room. As he stepped out from the throng of spectators, the horrific voice of the Dark Lord greeted him.
“Just in time. I would hate for you to miss this, Severus. Tonight, we’ll get to witness the effects of the Parvus Obitus first-hand. This should be interesting.” He nodded toward one of the masked men near the corner of the room.
Snape watched, horrified, as the man turned and began to drag something toward the Dark Lord.
At first Snape thought she’d been beaten like Weasley, she was so still. Then he realized that she was bound, hands and feet, and gagged. She was searching her surroundings, looking for a way to escape. The man pulled the gag out of her mouth and pulled her head back, holding her by the chin.
Voldemort’s reptilian mouth seemed to stretch into the caricature of a grin. “I’ll give you one more chance to tell me where Potter is, child. Then we will use the potion.”
Hermione tried to pull her chin out of the Death Eater’s hand. “Your threats don’t scare me.”
“Not a threat, child. Fact. I planned on using the potion whether you told us or not.” Voldemort nodded to another Death Eater and the small vial of potion Snape had produced for the Dark Lord appeared from within his robes.
Hermione’s panicked eyes met his as her mouth was forced open. As viscous liquid began to slide out of the vial, chaos erupted.
Part 1 / Part 4