Always (SNILY): Angst, Multiple POV, Dark Romance

Chapter One

Hogwarts, 1979

The dungeons underneath Hogwarts were musky and nostalgic. It had been over a year since Severus had walked the historic halls of his prior home, and the musk was seeping through the cracks of his mind, tugging on dampened memories.

The fact he was still able to enter was a testament to his attention to detail. Dark, blood magic, used to entwine his magic with that of the schools. Friend or foe, he'd always be welcomed within these walls.

How poetic, Severus had thought at the time. The bond was but a parting gift bestowed upon an old friend.

A year ago, he'd been ready to fulfill his duty to Voldemort. He'd wanted it. Now, he wasn't so sure what he believed. He'd watched Voldemort kill and torture without regard. There was supposed to be a point to all this, he had thought once. But from what he knew now— There was none.

Voldemort was loyal to none other than himself, and he would continue to feed off every good thing in this world until there was nothing left. He'd already siphoned Severus dry, honing him into a hollow weapon. Using him for his cunning intellect and proclivity for the dark arts.

Where the fuck is —

Ah, there you are, Severus smirked to himself, clamping his fingers around the prized bottle of Essence of Death. The sole reason he'd found himself back in these haunted halls.

Shoving the potion into the pocket of his dark, billowing robes, Severus ran a hand through his rustled hair and loosened a breath.

As it turns out, Essence of Death was hard to come by and extremely difficult to make. Having created the potion himself, Severus was the only one who knew how to procure it... and where he'd stashed some away for safe keeping.

The potion granted its taker with temporary death; with the ability to pass through the veil and to come back unscathed.

That is, if they made it back through the veil before the effects of the potion wore off.

When Severus began dabbling with the dark arts, he was mostly entertaining his own intrigue. He had wanted it. To push the boundaries. To peer into the darkness to see what peered back.

The darkness was a seductress, piquing his curiosity and fueling an unsated desire. Its claws were hidden under gentle caresses, kissing his veins and pulling on the strings of his dark, withered heart.

Until it was too late.

Severus had long ago forsaken any hope of redemption. His wavering stance in allegiance had little to do with justice. It was about her. It would always be for her.

Severus' mind was filled with unrest and angst. He needed to get the fuck out of this dungeon. Just as he began to contemplate his exit, the Dark Mark branded on his forearm burned through the sleeves of his robes.

He was being summoned.

He pulled his wand out of its holster and peered at his reflection in the glass cabinet. Severus watched as his appearance dissipated under a spell of disillusionment.

Taking in one last nostalgic breath, Severus stormed from the dungeon and out through the castle doors.

***

"My Lord," Severus apparated in front of Voldemort, falling to one knee, leaning on his hand for support.

Voldemort sat upon a throne of muggle skulls. He never really was that creative. Leading through fear and submission, Severus thought Voldemort's tactics were cheap. Predictable.

"You are keeping something from me, Severus." Voldemort hissed through pale lips, "and I wish to know what it is. Crucio." Voldemort shot the curse at Severus, sucking in breaths through seething, sharp teeth.

Severus collapsed on to the weight of his left hand, the taste of metal beginning to fill his mouth as he clamped down on his tongue. Cheap but effective.

"I wouldn't dream of it, My Lord." He ground out, "I was just coming to provide you with an update on my progress."

Severus let out a strained breath and lifted his gaze to meet the red slits of Voldemort's face.

"Oh?" Voldemort tilted his head in curiosity, refusing to release him from the hands of the curse.

"I have what you desire. The... rare potion, My Lord. You shall be granted entry beyond the veil." Severus coughed out, blood trickling down his lower lip.

Voldemort's eyes went molten, and his body stilled. The air was sucked from the room and filled with unhinged rage.

Severus did not know Voldemort's plan for going beyond the veil, but Severus had a plan of his own. A weakness lay dormant in him that Severus planned to exploit. He just needed to secure confirmation of it.

"You have proven yourself quite useful, indeed." Voldemort's rage turning into a cruel smile, releasing him from the curse.

Voldemort opened his hand and silently summoned the bottle into his cold, pale fingers and drank.

***

Severus apparated into the living room of his residence and collapsed on the floor. The scent of brewing potions filled his senses as the hearth sparked to life.

"Me thinks master could use a healing potion," squeaked a small voice. "Reno will grab for master."

"That won't...ughhh... be necessary, Reno." Severus rolled to his side, squinting his eyes. He liked feeling this pain. It was the closest thing to justice he'd ever be awarded.

"Could you.. could you grab me some Floo powder?" he peered at his house elf with a small smirk.

Reno poofed to Severus' side, extending a small cauldron of the green, chalky substance.

"Reno thinks master needs to eat. Will master be having guests for dinner?"

Severus grunted and Reno bounced anxiously on his feet.

"That remains to be seen."

"Very well, master. Reno is to prepare dinner for two." The elf dissapparated without another word.

Pushing himself onto his forearms, Severus dragged his limp, tired body over to the hearth. Hissing through the shooting pain of his frayed nerves, Severus grabbed a handful of the powder and threw it into the fire.

Green sparks burst into life, casting Severus in a light he was all too familiar with.

"Lily." He breathed. "Give me Lily."

Severus rested his forehead on the warming stone of the hearth and waited for a response.