Knowledge is Power

Chapter 72

Severus and Nightshade sat listening to Mag and Regulus play together, combining their talents. Regulus's guitar kept a rhythm while Mag's fiddle played a high lead. When Regulus began to sing, his voice was light and husky, not unpleasant in itself. Though the words he sang were relatively depressing the feeling he put into them had Severus itching to curl into a ball of misery. Everything, as Nightshade would say, suddenly sucked. Everything was futile, and miserable.

//What the fuck,// Nightshade demanded.
When Severus failed to reply, the owl clarified.
//What the fuck is he doing?//
Regulus sang of being a fallen angel, down on his knees in the depths of hell and begging god to have mercy on him for all he'd done.
//I suppose the Blacks have a bardic gift somewhere in their ancestry that Regulus seems to have discovered,// Severus speculated.
//Hopefully it will be over soon.//

//It fuckin' better be,// Nightshade said sincerely.
But no. It wasn't over quickly enough. Mag's fiddle screamed and cried as she seemed to make the strings writhe in agony as if the bow in her hand was torturing them. It was fitting, though, because it matched the obvious agony in Regulus's soul that currently pored out of his mouth.

At one miserable point, Regulus and Mag combined their efforts in the song's bridge, a wordless if quite melodic whale of misery. Regulus carried the lower notes and Mag's far higher ones were like broken glass, shards of soul wrenching pain that wove through and complimented his. When at last the final notes faded and the two lowered their instruments, Severus let out an unabashed sigh of relief before echoing his owl.

"What the hell was that," he demanded.
"What," Mag turned to him with a look of surprise.
"It was great! I never thought it would be so invigorating to play with another bard! The power was more than doubled! That's amazing!"
"I hardly think I'm a bard, but thank you," Regulus told Mag with a slightly embarrassed smile.
"Oh yes you are!"
Mag and Severus spoke the words simultaneously, though in Quite different tones. Mag's was adamant and Severus's was horrified.

"As you are aware, bards cause people to feel things, and you had me wanting to curl up into a ball on the bloody floor and give up on life," Severus said darkly.
"Please don't ever do that again!"
"Oh but you must," Mag insisted.
"It wasn't that bad, Severus. You're fine."
"As a bard yourself, you are obviously unaffected," Severus told Mag with a scowl.
//Yeah, fuck you, Mags,// Nightshade chimed in.

"It's a gift, Regulus," Mag told him.
"Use it."
"Alright," Regulus said, a smile ghosting over his face.
"What did you think, Kreacher," he asked, turning to the elf at his side.
Severus hoped Kreacher would beg the man never to sing again, but the elf merely smiled.
"Everything Master Regulus does is wonderful."
"Thank you," Regulus said, giving Kreacher a devoted smile as he returned his guitar to its case. Severus let out a sigh of relief, thankful that the torture was over at least for tonight.

"So is the dark lord angry that you are no longer able to report on Potter's whereabouts," Regulus asked Severus.
Severus shrugged.
"Not at me. He knows I have no control over what the boy does. I always told him the truth about Potter as often as I could. I figure if they had their confrontation sooner than expected, the prophecy should still play out. There wasn't a date on the bloody thing and Voldemort's continued trust is key to my survival."

Mag frowned, giving her head a slight shake of negation.
"I'm not so certain of that. That last rune reading indicated that he may strike out at you for an unrelated reason entirely, but it wasn't clear. Something about possessions, odd as that sounds."
She sighed, shrugging slender shoulders.
"That's why I didn't mention it at the time. The concept was so vague I knew it wouldn't be very helpful for now. Rune readings are like that," she added, directing that last bit to Regulus.
"They're very clear on some points and quite vague on others. Of course later when the events come to pass about which they are vague, it's quite clear. You look back at the reading and it suddenly makes total sense, but not so much until then. At least I'm usually fortunate enough to have clearer answers, especially when it comes to Severus's situation."

Reaching for her hand, Severus gave it a squeeze, knowing how much she worried over him and also knowing that it was his fault for the stupid impulsive anger filled choices of his youth.
"It will be alright. We'll all do what it takes to keep Severus safe," Regulus assured.
"You should see him now," Severus said, turning to the vampire.
"The Dark Lord that is. He's practically half transfigured himself into a snake."
"I'm not truly surprised, considering his affinity," Regulus said.
Then with a chuckle he added, "I'd also not be surprised if he were shagging the thing."
Severus choked.
"Gods!"

Regulus laughed.
"Well I wouldn't."
They sat chatting for several hours. The time passed swiftly, and Severus found himself enjoying the conversation. Though Regulus was far more subdued than he remembered, he was still interesting and at times even amusing. When at last he and Mag rose to go, the vampire made them promise to visit again soon.

Back at the school, Severus looked over reports while Mag read a tome of old alchemy. Soon they were both yawning and ready for bed. Severus couldn't be certain that it was due to Regulus's blasted song, but he had horrid nightmares all night. His sleep was restless and he tossed and turned after each dream before falling into another that was equally as bad.

In the first, Hagrid was a Death Eater. He suddenly had cold glittering red eyes similar to Voldemort and promised to tell the dark lord that Severus had saved Albus's life. A thing that Hagrid, in truth, should not even be aware of due to the fact the fool couldn't keep his mouth shut. In actuality, Hagrid, like most everyone else, believed Albus Dumbledore to be dead.

In the next nightmare, it was Filius who was the secret Death Eater, and the little man cackled gleefully as he tortured Severus, claiming to have taught the Lestranges everything they knew about the art. In the final dream, Severus had to watch Voldemort killing Raislen, Heather and Mag. After that he was nearly grateful when the alarm clock signaled the start of another shitty day.

At breakfast, he was unable to keep from shooting Filius a dark glare.
"What's the matter with you," Filius huffed and Severus dropped his gaze apologetically to his plate and thus to a grumpy sleepy Nightshade who devoured his sausage in two bites.
"Just unpleasant dreams," Severus murmured.
"You were torturing me."
Filius's brows shot up.
"Really? Why?"
Severus laughed. Filius's presence was what made it all bearable this year.
As the Carrows weren't morning or breakfast people, and as such not present, Severus told Filius of his nightmares in a low undertone.

"The stress is just getting to you," Filius said sympathetically, patting Severus's arm.
"You should start making yourself potions of dreamless sleep. Without good sleep, as you well know, one's reflexes and judgment can be impaired, and you can't afford to lose either of those at present."
Severus nodded.
"I know, and that's actually an excellent idea. I'll do that," he promised.
At least that potion wasn't difficult to make and it could be brewed in less than an hour.