Cast Aside

Light Torture and Interrupted Sleep

Chapter 27

Excruciating pain ripped Severus from a restless sleep. The Dark mark on his forearm burned, nearly as much as when the Dark Lord had branded it into his skin. His master must be furious.

Stumbling from bed, he stepped into his boots and dragged on his blackest robes.

Granger had warned him the day before that they'd been seen together in London. The sighting had been the subject of an order meeting that same night. According to their source in the Order, Peter Pettigrew hadn't been present but he'd know soon enough. He and the rest of their merry band of arseholes had been assigned to tail both himself and the Prewetts. If the rat knew, the Dark Lord surely would too.

Sliding his silver mask over his face, Severus took a moment to clear his mind to prepare it for invasion. Fake memories drawn to the fore, he hoped he wouldn't fail this first true test of his occlumency.

He took a breath, readied himself for a spot of light torture, and disapperated.

<>

"Severus. Thank you for coming. I realize it is quite late."

Voldemort stood—still impeccably dressed despite the odd hour—in the middle of the drawing room. An ancient muggle tapestry depicting some gruesome battle hung behind him, made the more ominous for the lack of other company.

Except Bellatrix, reclining in what she no doubt thought a sultry position on a chaise by the grand fireplace. She could always be counted on. Probably because they were fucking behind Rodolphus's back and so she was just there already. He suddenly recalled his master's snake-like appearance in Granger's memories and wondered if they had resumed their intimate relationship in her future. Remembering himself, Severus cast the dangerous thought from his mind before it got them all killed.

Kneeling before Voldemort, he hoped his master was in an understanding mood.

"My very life is yours, my Lord. Think nothing of my sleep."

Voldemort stared down at Severus for several long moments before lazily pointing his wand at him.

"Crucio."

Severus seized as the pain burned through him but did not cry out. It only lasted a few moments before he was blinking through black spots as Voldemort stepped around him and started talking.

"It has been brought to my attention that you have been frequenting muggle pubs with the enemy, Severus. Very particular enemies, Severus, whom I have badly wanted captured."

A glass clinked and liquid poured behind and to the left of Severus as he inhaled slowly through his nose. Brandy.

A muggle liquor. Interesting.

"As you know, I am a fair and generous leader. The idea that I would judge you guilty and punish you accordingly without allowing you the opportunity to plead your case is sophomoric. Just the sort of thing Dumbledore would use to further propagandize the public against me."

An etched snifter with a finger of liquor appeared in front of him. The Dark Lord held it out, the very picture of benevolence. Severus sensed danger like a thickening gas in the air, but he knew better than to refuse.

The exquisite liquor was less enjoyable than it ought to have been.

"So tell me, my dear young Severus, what you were doing with our enemy?"

He wondered why he didn't just plunder his memories outright. But this was a game, wasn't it. A show just for him. The rage he'd woken to was there, just beneath the surface. Fortunately for Severus, however, he had the potential to be of great use. Lucius had been sure the Dark Lord understood that. It would be a waste to kill him.