The Dark Mark
The incidents stopped for three days. Five days before Severus’s birthday (and Molly’s dreaded party that was to be scheduled at the Burrow), Hogsmeade was attacked. It was a big hit on the Wizarding World, and it caused chaos across the country. Everyone was terrified that the Death Eaters were back and even more stronger, and that Lord Voldemort would return.
Severus and Dahlia were having dinner with the staff in one of the rooms- it was after curfew, and Minerva had some things to discuss with the staff and persuaded Severus to join them.
He felt awkward, embarrassed, and above all else, paranoid.
He didn’t want to look at their faces and remember that horrid year when he was Headmaster, with all of them glaring at him and whispering things like, “I expected better, Severus”, and, “You should’ve never been trusted”, words that ripped open his heart and cut it into a million pieces.
Filius, who had called him a coward.
Pomona, who’d glared at him with venom in those kind, soft eyes.
Horace, who’d looked so betrayed, so torn.
So he sat in silence, his hair obscuring his face, and didn’t eat a single bite of the dinner, and only merely moved his food around on his plate.
“As you may have known, there’s been incidents that have been happening around London. Now, I hope- hope- that Lord Voldemort does not come back. But just in case, for the safety of us and the students, I must ask that further wards be put on the school.”
Minerva sighed, clasping her hands together, and turned to Flitwick.
“Filius, I trust that you will do the front gates. Pomona, maybe lay out plants to warn us? Hagrid, tell the centaurs of this too, please. Severus, could you ward the sides of the castle? I know that you aren’t on the staff, but you were- and still- essential to helping ward the castle.”
Their gazes all swung towards him. Severus gulped and forced himself to lift his gaze, his eyes round and fearful. Under the table, Dahlia squeezed his hand.
Five hundred eighty…five hundred eighty-one…five hundred…what number am I on?
Severus forced his counting of his old colleagues to stop.
“S-sure.”
His voice was raspy, soft, and hesitant. Filius couldn’t restrain himself from whimpering- clearly, he’d never heard Severus speak after his time in Azkaban. Also, a couple of other professors, especially Trelawney, turned a ghostly pale as they saw Severus’s mauled, ruined face. Thankfully for them, Severus’s throat was still wrapped tightly in a bandage because, during last night’s nightmares, he somehow managed to split his throat wounds open again.
The meeting continued with the usual stuff: Minerva scoffing at every word Sybill said, Fliwick staring at an unresponsive Severus, and Dahlia complaining to Rolanda about one too many Quidditch accidents.
Severus zoned out and used Occlumency to satisfy his boredom, and didn’t even need to say anything until Horace opened his over-friendly mouth and tried to butt him into a conversation.
“So, Severus, how’s it been since the war?”
Severus stared incredulously at the man, because he certainly can’t be that thick.
“Just dandy,” Severus snapped back. “I’ve been tortured and abused for the past three years; how are you?”
Horace paled, mumbled something about “dandy, just like yours” and didn’t speak for a long time.
It wasn’t until Severus started to feel disconnected and unfocused that he cared to glance at the clock- and suffered a major disappointment. It was only ten at night.
Severus sighed, wondering if he could sleep without anyone noticing, until his left arm started to burn.
It wasn’t like the usual pain, which never really left, but an intense, harsh agony that increased with each second.
Severus was bitterly annoyed. His hips ached and his right side pulsed and spasmed, and now his left arm was on fire.
But the pain steadily grew worse, and worse, and worse, until it snapped Severus out of his delirious state and realized, with growing horror, that he’d felt this kind of pain before. Discreetly under the table, Severus yanked the sleeve of his left arm up to reveal the Dark Mark, more black than it had been since the Dark Lord was dead, outlined by red marks in his arm.
Even despite the fact that TRAITOR blocked a lot of the Dark Mark, it clearly still worked.
The agony was beginning to become unbearable. Severus took deep, shuddering breaths, trying to calm himself down, when the pain was attacking every nerve, sinking all the way down into his bones.
Remus was giving him worried looks from across the table, but Severus ignored those.
When he couldn’t handle it anymore, with sweat falling from his forehead and his eyes brimming with tears, Severus gently pricked Dahlia underneath the table.
She abruptly stopped her conversation with Septima and turned to Severus, taking in his pallid skin, wide frantic eyes, and his right hand clutching his left forearm tightly.
“Tell the house elves thanks for the food, Minerva?” She gave her a bright smile. “We’ve got to get going; it’s getting quite late, and I’m rather tired.”
“Goodnight then, Dahlia, Severus.” Minerva nodded, her eyes scanning Severus’s appearance, although she didn’t say anything about it.
Severus nodded weakly, biting through his lip as he fought the urge to let out a strangled scream.
He didn’t know how, but he hobbled his way out of the staff room with the cane Lucius gave him and his ankle brace and leg brace on. He simply dragged his right left behind him, tears stinging his eyes.
Dahlia hurried him along, helping lift him along the horrible staircases that made him want to collapse on the ground and wail.
It took them a long time to get to their quarters. Way too long.
When he finally reached the comfort of the living room, he lurched to the ground and clutched his left forearm, curling up as tight as he could, though his right leg stayed stiff and straight.
His legs ached so bad- it was the most he’d ever walked since his recovery without stopping, and he was in agony. His left forearm was in the most pain, however, so Severus curled himself around his arm, full on sobbing.
“Severus!” Dahlia crouched next to him, summoning bottles. “Shhh, it’s your Dark Mark, isn’t it? But here, this is for your muscles in your legs…”
She poured potions down his throat, rubbing his back, and placed ice over his Dark Mark. She gently lifted up his limp form and placed him on his bed, transfigured him into clothed, and tried to offer him comfort.
“He’s back,” Severus whimpered, his chest heaving. “I can’t do this…”
“Shhh, Severus…”
The doorbell rang. Severus whimpered again, not wanting Dahlia to leave, but instead of the mattress dipping down, she stayed.
“What’s the matter?”
Minerva’s voice filled the room. Severus was pale, shaking, and sweating now, his eyes screwed shut.
“His Dark Mark,” Dahlia whispered, her eyes round.
“Don’t press it, Severus!” Minerva urged.
“No,” he agreed, wheezing. Whatever that would happen if he pressed it would certainly be worse than the pain he was in now.
“It hurts,” he rasped instead, turning gray. “It hurts, it hurts. Whoever is controlling this, they know what they’re doing.”
Severus moaned, gripping his arm tightly.
“Severus?” Dahlia asked hesitantly. “Do potions work?”
“They aren’t supposed to,” Severus groaned. “Or balms.”
“Nothing works,” Severus mumbled. “It’s not supposed to. He made sure that no one- absolutely no one- can escape the pain.”
Dahlia turned green.
“No, no,” Severus whimpered, sobbing harder now. He was gripping the sides of bed so hard that his knuckles were turning white.
It was getting worse and worse, and he was so tired, so delirious.
“I’ve tried it before, cutting off the skin. It doesn’t work. I’ve tried burning. It doesn’t work.”
Minerva turned pale and turned away, covering her mouth.
“It might work if I chop it off,” Severus muttered, his eyes blurry. “But, of course, you only get one chance at it, hm?”
He laughed hoarsely, crazed into a frenzy.
“Oh, chop it off!” Severus wailed, groaning as another wave of pain overwhelmed him.
“Severus, Severus, please,” Minerva chided gently. “We aren’t cutting your arm off. How else will you make potions?”
She tried joking, to lighten his mood, but Severus continued to shake, his face ghostly pale.
”If you won’t let me chop it off,” Severus whispered, “then let me touch it.”
”Whatever you feel here is going to be ten times worse if you touch your Mark!”
”Make it stop!”
Then, as sudden as it started, the pain ebbed and stopped. Severus took in gasping breaths, cradling his left arm against his chest.
He leaned back against the bed, shivering, his tear-stained face aglow with relief.
He was so embarrassed. He just acted like a big baby. Dahlia and Minerva took one look at his stormy, broken face and left the room to give him privacy.
”Thank Merlin they stopped,” Minerva exclaimed, clutching at her chest. “Poor Severus!”
Dahlia nodded grimly.
“This must mean that…the attacks…they’re back, aren’t they?” Minerva whimpered and sank onto the couch.
Dahlia looked at her.
“I think a lot of things will be repeating, Minerva, and I can only hope that we’ll be safe from it.”