Dead Man's Hand(I know how to live, I don't know how to die)
Think Of Me Once In Awhile, Take Care
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^^^
1:
Dead Man’s Hand(I know how to live, I don’t know how to die)
Hooded, bruised, red-rimmed obsidian calf eyes meet icy silvered ones, and a shift can be felt throughout the room. In the dark pools, several emotions can be seen-desperation, resignation, sorrow, anger.
Lucius shudders, although he tries his best not to show this externally. The man in front of him should decidedly never, ever look like that.
Severus Snape doesn’t show emotions. Severus Snape does not cry. Severus Snape doesn’t flinch when his best friend stands over him, no matter what may be in his hand.
Severus Snape does not resign himself to fate. He defies it at every turn, he lives to spite the many forces poised against him.
He does not slump in defeat against his chains, which are digging into his wrists and creating angry red welts in rings on his wrists. He does not begin jerking and scrambling to press his ( very much flayed, as Lucius knows too well ) back against the wall when Lucius approaches him slightly, bending down to his knees. He does not try to bite the blonde’s hand when he grabs his chin and forces him to meet his eyes again.
He does not choke back a gasp, eyes closed and teeth grimaced, chattering, shivering in fear of what is to come.
Lucius heaves a heavy sigh, tracing Severus’ cheek with his thumb.
“You just…you just had to play the hero, Severus? You couldn’t have just laid low, been his lapdog, been obedient?”
His voice is strained with devastation, much to his own dismay.
“You can stop this…just…tell him the truth, please. ”
Lucius Malfoy does not beg. He does not plead.
Except in this case, yes, Lucius Malfoy is absolutely pleading. And he would very much like to be groveling at Severus’ feet instead of what is playing out right now, begging for the raven haired man’s forgiveness.
Anyone else, everyone else deserves what he’s been through. But not Severus. Never Severus. Not the bitter, kicked boy who’d been glued to Lucius’ side since the elder man had seen his talent and collected him. Not the boy who’d given Lucius that damned crooked smile when he gave him a scrap of approval. Not the man who’d held his infant godson rigidly away from his body, an absolutely panicked expression over his face as Narcissa laughed. Not the man who’d sent Lucius a rare, soft expression when they’d down glass after glass of firewhisky on certain evenings. Not the man whose teeth were always quite jagged and sharp, that would pierce the blonde’s lips when he’d nipped him during a rough kiss, pressed up against stone walls. Not Severus, not Severus, not him, anyone but him-
“No…c’n’t…just…no m’re-” Severus slurs, eyes drooping despite his best efforts.
Very well. Stubborn boy.
Lucius grits his teeth, forcing his trembling thumb up to his best friend’s lips and hooking against the corner to tug his mouth open. Lucius swallows down the saliva coating his throat rather thickly, eyes shining. He meets Severus’ glazed eyes, noticing the usage of whatever fragments of his Occlumency walls he has left building in preparation for the hurt.
Lucius’ heart twists in his chest.
The world was a cruel, cold place. And Severus Snape is a fire. A black, all consuming, dangerous blaze. Even now, reduced to glowing embers, Lucius admired him.
Hooking his forefinger tighter on the corner of the trembling man’s lip, Lucius uses his other hand which is grasping a long, white hot pincer that he brings up to grab out his tongue after forcing his teeth open. It’s dry, like sandpaper, making it easy to grip. Severus chokes, hot tears dribbling down his cheeks as he whines and cries out.
“nnn-nr-L’ci- pl-”
Bite me. Bite my hand. Don’t make me do this.
He doesn't though. Of course he doesn’t.
Lucius winces, his body trembling fiercely as he releases Severus’ lips, grabbing out his wand with his now free hand.
Severus is beginning to rasp, eyes blown wide as he seems to understand what’s about to happen.
He’s scared. Petrified.
Severus Snape isn’t afraid.
Lucius whimpers. His eyebrows knit together as he presses his wand against the muscle gripped in his other hand-
I’m a bastard. A right, bloody bastard.
“I’m-I’m sorry, Severus. Forgive me.”
Lucius closes his eyes, bracing himself. His stomach churns violently.
“Diffindo.”
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Lucius is not a strong man. He is not a good man, he is not even a monster of a man. He is not cruel, he is not kind, he is not worthy.
Lucius didn’t bother muting out the screams. He can still hear them now as he sits in his chair in front of the fireplace in his mansion, watching the fire dull in the hearth through haunted eyes.
The blood. Oh Merlin, the blood. He was choking on it, he was choking on his own-
Lucius flinches, an ugly sob wrenching out of his throat. He feels sick. He’s gonna be sick-
“Father?”
No. No.
—”...And I’d just like to ask, if you’ll be his godfather? In case anything should happen to me or ‘Cissa-”
“Which will hopefully never happen, seeing as no child in their right mind would be willing to live under my tutelage.”
“Undoubtedly my friend, he will be a runaway if ever he was–wait a moment. Then is that a yes?”
“Did you ask me even under the impression that I would not agree?”
“I figured it was worth a shot.”
“Well then, unfortunately for the insufferable whelp, I am to be his guardian when you’ve outstayed your visit on this accursed earth. However, I’m sure I’ll be dead before you or ‘Cissa in any case, considering my position.”
“Nonsense.”
“...Would you be willing to place bets on that?”
“Merlin help us all, surely they aren’t paying you THAT poorly?!”
A rough, hoarse chuckle. A swig of firewhiskey.
“I am a professor, Luci.”---
Draco makes his way over to his father’s trembling form, observing him through those identical iced orbs.
“Are you well? Should I get mum-”
“...No. do not get her. In fact, you should be in bed.”
Draco’s face folds into an impertinent glare, arms crossing fast.
“Please, I am hardly a child, father.”
“Draco.”
The boy’s face falls at his father's stony growl, appearing almost timid. Without another word, he leaves him by himself.
Lucius closes his eyes. No, Narcissa is fully aware of what he’d done. Word travels fast between the Death Eater wives.
The traitor’s tongue, ripped from his throat by the very man who introduced him to their troops.
Oh, irony.
Lucius swirls his shot glass of firewhiskey, peering at the dregs of liquid. His eyes droop.
He may have met Severus first, but ‘Cissa and him were always closer to one another. Severus has never been a man’s man, mainly acquainting with females in every side of his life. He was always more comfortable around them. And of course, Lucius could hardly blame him. No man had ever spared Severus an ounce of kindness, aside from himself. And now, even that has been torn away-if the fragility of their relationship, as it already was singularly surrounded by him being the reason Severus was able to join the Death Eaters what with the way that scrawny boy had always ate from his palm no matter what was offered, had not already clarified what they were to one another. Either way, Lucius truly didn’t have many friends to begin with. And Severus…Severus was dear to him. Always would be, even if what had just occurred would taint that image severely.
Not that Severus would be alive to hold him accountable.
Forgive me. I don’t deserve it from Narcissa, Draco nor you, but I will beg it.
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Remus Lupin sits at the long table in 12 Grimmauld Place, fingers tapping against the surface of it restlessly. Sirius is at his right side, fidgeting in the silence.
Dumbledore is seated at the head of the table, a subdued expression on his features as Molly Weasley goes around serving tea and pastries. Arthur sat next to Kingsley, Tonks and Moody, who were also silent, though Moody looked like he was ready to pounce as his glass eye surveyed everyone in the room, jaw clenched. Most of his focus was on the empty seat across from him.
Remus also found his eyes resting on the empty seat that had, for many meetings beforehand, been inhabited by Severus Snape. Severus Snape the double agent, the Potion’s professor, the Head of Slytherin House, the Marauder’s rival so many years ago, the defected Death Eater. Severus Snape.
And Remus felt a cold, watery feeling rest in his chest and choke through his throat as he thought about the snake.
He hadn’t joined a meeting in two months. He hadn’t been seen at Hogwarts, either. The man was, effectively, missing.
Most, like Sirius and Moody, believed Severus to have defected back to Voldemort’s ranks. Others, like Molly, believed him to be in serious danger. Others were neutral, and preferred not to think about the whereabouts of the man but also kept in mind that he could be in either position. Remus found himself falling into that category.
After the first few missed meetings, Dumbledore had assured them all that he was likely undercover and would return soon.
But, well, that hadn’t happened.
After the first month, Dumbledore refused any discussion, always wearing an unreadable expression when he had been brought up.
Remus himself would avoid conversations with Sirius about him, whenever he was brought up. It made the werewolf feel ill.
Severus and Remus were hardly civil to one another. Not even acquaintances, although not by Remus’ choice. He’d actually been wanting to extend an olive branch, but the moment he’d tried Severus had taken the branch, snapped it in half, and stomped on it repeatedly. Remus didn’t argue, though he did continue trying. The man was brewing him Wolfsbane of his own accord each month, and Remus was eternally grateful for that. The bitter man didn’t have to, and in fact had plenty of reason not to. But he did, under the guise of ‘ anyone else would royally botch it up’.
Remus had never truly hated Severus the way his mates had. Maybe that was because Remus found it very hard to hate anybody, but Severus was also just not that bad. He’d admit the Marauders would go too far sometimes as a child, though later in life he had realized that none of it was okay really. He’d apologized for his part in it (which, as it was, was no part. Which made it an issue), and the conversation devolved into Severus slamming the dungeon doors on him.
Still, Remus cared about Severus. Startling revelation, he knows. It started when he’d first learned about the Wolfsbane, and with Remus’ track record of romantic endeavors, any person who showed him the least bit of consideration was a likely candidate. Even though he kept his feelings from a distance, and they hadn’t really formed past a light crush, they certainly existed. He felt largely guilty for them, as it seemed like a betrayal of Sirius’ trust( another hopeless attraction he’d cradled for years until he sprung it on Sirius one day. Not too proud of that one, he wasn’t) but well, the heart wants what it wants. Even if what the heart wanted was severely out of reach and effectively unattainable.
So the idea of Severus defecting was one he didn’t entertain for the sake of his jumpy feelings. The other option wasn’t any better. Instead, he chose to just not think about it. When he did, he would get worked up for no reason, and he didn’t need the added stress. He had enough with Harry, the return of Voldemort, Sirius being reckless about being a highly wanted criminal, and his…affliction, as always.
“Thank you all for gathering today, I know this was unscheduled.” Dumbledore’s voice booms over the group, as if to silence them from the chatting that was decidedly not happening. Remus shakes away his thoughts, focusing his entire attention on the Headmaster.
Albus looked solemn, as he stood from his seat and held his hands in front of him. One of his fingers was fidgeting, twirling the rings on his other hand almost nervously.
Remus’ heart began racing. Albus was never swayed. He was a stone force to them all, the reason the Order stood as strong as it did. It was no good if their leader had been shaken, as very few things could bother the old wizard anymore.
“As we all know, Severus has been absent from these meetings for two months. I have kept my silence as I had my own suspicions as to his whereabouts, which were confirmed as of this morning.”
The room stays silent, and Sirius looks about ready to pounce at the air. Remus is looking at everyone at once, his own curiosity prickling his mind-
“Severus’ allegiances were uncovered by Voldemort. He has been held captive this entire time. Now, I believe him to be alive…although, perhaps it would be more merciful if he was not.”
Remus feels his heart stop.
Oh. Oh no.
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Narcissa had heard of what she’d be seeing. She’d expected it, prepared mentally for what she was about to see.
But imagining it, imagining the torture your dearest friend has been subjected to, is extremely different in principle to actually viewing it.
He lays, slumped against the wall, looking up with his eyes despite the lolled state of his head. His hair is greasy and in strips, shifting across his face. Blood and drool seep from his mouth in grievous quantities, creating a gruesome puddle dribbling from his torn robes and onto the floor. His clothes are in tatters, ripped by whips and claws( courtesy of Fenrir, she’s sure) and blades, oozing blood and pus from the many slashes. Eyes circled by dark bruises( raccoon eyes, her mind supplies is what muggles had coined them) , that Narcissa knows to be caused by a basal head fracture. Sweat sheens all over his face, his jaw is quite swollen and gives his cheeks an alarming roundness. Bruises and welts ring his neck, wrists and ankles, which Narcissa has no difficulty identifying as results of the heavy chains wearing him down. His left leg is twisted oddly in the wrong direction, ankle swollen with a fracture or a sprain( or both. She wouldn’t put it behind them) and right shoulder sagging unnaturally. He blinks slowly, eyes dulled. ( Mental and probable brain damage as well, then, from relentless Legilimency attacks and Cruciatus and well…the trauma from the rest of his torment, including the head fracture most likely).
And that's just his front, and what she can see from outside his clothes.
“Oh Severus…” she keens, falling to her knees. She reaches out, and he flinches back violently. His lips are swollen and blue, cracked and bleeding from biting them. She tries her best not to think about what she’d been told about what was inside his mouth, or rather…what wasn’t.
“If you are really to be joining the Dark Lord Severus, you really ought to start watching that tongue of yours.” Narcissa quips, leveling her finest inquisitive stare onto the boy. Even with him being a teenager, years of malnourishment had rendered him so small, scrawny, but his glares and biting snarks could kill.
Severus snorts, fixing the collar of his (Lucius’) shirt, smoothing the wrinkles as he watches his reflection.
“Really ‘Cissa, it’s your wedding day. Is this what you want to be talking about?”
Narcissa smirks, making her way over to him and grasping his shoulders in her hands. She leans in, pressing the side of her head against his.
“Insufferable brat. I only tell this to protect you, and you know that.”
Severus tugs at the strips of his unmade tie, shrugging Narcissa off of him with a huff.
“I’m perfectly capable of protecting myself, and you know that.”
A whimper snaps Narcissa from her thoughts. A look of recognition has flickered across Severus’ features, and he now is watching her with pleading eyes.
Narcissa’s chest tightens.
Severus hates asking for help, but he hates begging more.
Narcissa shuffles closer, using her thumb to brush a piece of hair behind Severus’ ear.
He only flinches a bit .
“Shh, Prince. I’ll get you out.”
Severus closes his eyes briefly to take a breath, before a thought occurs to him and his eyes shoot open, looking panicked.
Narcissa smiles sadly at him. She knows what he is trying to convey, so she shakes her head softly.
“I’ve endured it long enough, Severus. Lucius has put Dragon in danger long enough, and I’ve been deluded as well. But for you…” she clicks her tongue, taking her wand out and getting to her feet. She frees him from the chains with a mumbled Emancipare , and watches as his body collapses to the ground completely. She bends back down to his level, gathering him in her arms.
A crash sounds from upstairs the dungeons, causing Narcissa’s head to swivel as her eyebrows knit together. They had been keeping Severus in Avery’s mansion( considering the Dark Lord had assumed this very incident may occur if Severus had been kept with his friends). Narcissa had already stretched her luck, disillusioning herself in order to sneak past Wormtail’s guard and making it down here…she hadn’t been allowed to visit for obvious reasons. The Dark Lord had left, tending to other matters, thank Merlin.
Severus whimpers, using his good hand to grasp at Narcissa’s arm. His grip is hardly a brush, but it works as Narcissa looks down at him. He motions her out the door with frantic pupils, his lips quivering.
Get out. They’ll kill you.
Narcissa swallows down her panic, holding Severus closer and trying to calm her thoughts enough to manage to get up, very hard to do when her heart beats painfully against her ribcage-
The apparition wards made this so much more difficult. She needs to make a run for it, get outside, then apparate home-
She pauses, the thought crossing her mind that home is decidedly not where Severus should be.
Not when it was her bloody husband who cut his damn tongue out-
The door bursts open, and Bellatrix screeches. Narcissa winces at the noise, her arms tightening in her hold of Severus as she shoots a glare at her sister.
“Always knew you were a bloody rat, Cissy.”
“ Expelliarmus-!” Narcissa shouts after untangling her arm from the bloody mass in her arms and flinging her wand to point in her direction. Bellatrix had been too busy jeering, and was therefore thrown into the wall. Narcissa heaves Severus’ far too light body upward and darts out the dungeon, racing up the stairs and pushing past Wormtail, who gives a startled squeak and slams into the ground. She jolts to a stop then dodges into a wall, rolling to her knee after a nonverbal spell grazes just past her and crashes into the door, and she sends a Full-Body bind at the instigator while spelling up a shield charm under her breath. Narcissa swallows against her racing heart, observing her obstacles-
Bellatrix is downstairs, but she’ll recover fast. Wormtail shouldn’t make for much of a threat, Avery sent the nonverbal spell-who else is in the house-
As if to answer her question, Fenrir bursts out from upstairs upon hearing the commotion. It takes him all of two seconds to realize what is happening, and Narcissa knows she’s fucked. She scurries to her feet, holding the shield with as much of her magic as possible as Fenrir races forth, casting a nonverbal Bombarda that Narcissa barely manages to dodge as it blows up the wall she’d hit. The room clouds with debris, and she wastes no time darting over to the door-
She bursts outside, losing her footing and rolling down the many steps with Severus held against her chest. They collapse on the grass, and Narcissa gets the air knocked out of her lungs.
Move, MOVE DAMN IT-
Narcissa forces her trembling, aching body up, staring at Severus’ slumped form that she is just barely out of reach from. She’d lost her grasp, she just needs to reach him with one finger-
Bellatrix and Fenrir burst out of the door-
Narcissa’s blood is pulsing in her ears, as she forces her body upward, throwing her arm over Severus.
—”You know I would protect him anyway, right?”
Narcissa wrings her hands, sighing quietly. “I know. Forgive me, but Lucius…he doesn’t always…he isn’t always careful.”
Severus levels her with an unreadable stare. “Don’t I know it.”
After a few moments of simply staring at each other, the two burst out laughing. Severus’ laugh is much more subdued, but it’s there nonetheless. Narcissa felt a swell of victory. Her boys never smiled much these days, especially Severus after the Evans girl’s passing and Lucius after the trials, but Narcissa would find a way nonetheless. Lucius had just been given freedom from the judges after pleading Imperius, but he still went around boasting about his loyalties to the remaining Death Eaters who had come out unscathed after a few glasses too many. He was never discreet, and Narcissa half expected him to be thrown into Azkaban any second.
Narcissa walks over to Severus, raising her shot glass of firewhiskey to meet the one in Severus’ grasp. He looks at her with a tired but nevertheless amused smile.
“To our family. And to surviving, of course.”
Severus’ eyes flicker with sadness at that, but it leaves in a small moment.
“Indeed. And to hoping your husband doesn’t get caught redhanded with his loose tongue.”
Narcissa closes her eyes tight. She would get him out of here. She had to. Severus deserved a chance. He deserved the world, in her eyes. Her best friend. Her little Prince.
The Order. He would be safe there. Dumbledore had been manipulative, but he wouldn’t shoot a dying man, one who’d gone through so much just to redeem himself to something he’d already earned forgiveness for a thousand times over in Narcissa’s eyes. Her grip tightens over his body, her eyes closed tight as she envisions the area clearly-
Bellatrix moves forward in hurried steps, wand raised above her head and aimed at the two-
The Order, Sirius, Grimmauld Place-
“AVADA KEDAVRA-”
A flash of green, a pop of apparition, and the world goes black.