The Immortal Lord
-November 20 1991-
If there was a hell, this would surely be it. Never before had Severus longed for the sweet release of death, but as he stood there, watching the two people he hated most duel, Severus found himself wishing for eternal sleep. When the Dark Lord told him he was to train the two new recruits, Severus thought he’d gotten off easy.
Then the Dark Lord told him the recruits' names and Severus wanted to cry.
Sirius Black and Remus Lupin fought against each other in a mock duel in the Dark Lord’s dueling room. Severus had regretfully called them forward for their training, resigning himself to the fact that he’d be forced to be around them for a substantial amount of time. Months in the very least, as it took a while to get recruits ready for the missions that the Dark Lord required of them.
“This is a waste of time! I already know how to duel!”
Severus wasn’t sure he had the patience to deal with these two for the next few months.
“Are you able to duel to the Dark Lord’s standard?” Severus bit back, crossing his arms against his chest. “Because I’m watching a pair of dancing chickens, not a duel.”
“Shut up! You don’t know anything Sniv---”
Black let out a yelp when Severus’s overpowered stinging hex hit him in the behind. The sudden shock caused him to stumble, and his extra momentum caused him to fall to the ground with a loud thud. Severus withheld his smirk in favor of stalking over to him and hefting him up by the collar of his robes.
“Do not address me that way,” Severus snarled. “I am training you so that the Dark Lord doesn’t slaughter you on sight. Treat me with respect, Black, because your life depends on it!”
The room was silent for a long time, the only noise coming from the harsh inhales from the two wizards as they attempted to regain their air. Finally Severus scoffed and let go, Black falling to the ground with another thud. Severus turned around and walked back to his position by the wall, and waved his hand, bidding them to continue.
The sounds of fighting filled the room once more, and time passed silently, only the occasional bout of conversation, usually from Severus calling out a mistake or flaw in their fighting style, and Black fighting back.
“Can’t believe we’re missing the speeches for this,” Black drawled, snapping Severus’s attention to him. “I mean, Dumbledore is speaking, you have to admit, it’s gotta be entertaining.”
“The Dark Lord gave you an order,” Severus responded dryly. “You’d be a fool to ignore it.”
“I wasn’t saying that,” Black sighed dramatically. “I’m just saying that Dumbledore’s speech is probably going to piss off the Dark Lord, and that’s gotta be funny.”
“Be silent, Black, before you get yourself killed!” Severus hissed, pinching the bridge of his nose with a weary sigh. “Honestly! Have you no filter between your brain and your mouth? Oh who am I kidding, of course you don’t.”
“Who cares? There’s no one here but us?” Black asked, crossing his arms over his chest defensively.
“If you truly believe that, then you are more of a fool than I took you for,” Severus snapped. “We are in the Dark Lord’s castle. He has eyes everywhere!”
Black opened his mouth to argue, but Lupin stepped forward and pressed a gentle hand to his shoulder. Black whipped his head over at Lupin only for the werewolf to shake his head. Black all but deflated and nodded.
“You’re right,” he said softly. “I need to be more careful with my words. I… apologize.”
Severus stared at him for a long time before he scoffed. “That must’ve been painful.”
“It really was,” Black replied, just as bitingly. Then he sighed and looked back at his partner helplessly.
“Severus? Do you… Do you know when we’ll be allowed to see Harry again?” Lupin asked, twisting his hands anxiously. “It’s just… we’ve done everything he’s asked but we haven’t seen him still---”
“Stop calling him that.” Severus said harshly. Lupin blinked in surprise at the harsh tone.
“What?”
“His name is Little One.” Severus said. “Not Harry. It doesn’t matter who he used to be, because that’s not who he is anymore. So stop calling him that.”
“Oh… right…” Lupin said softly, staring at the ground despondently. Severus sighed, dragging his hand down his face before he spoke.
“I can’t answer that question, Lupin, because I don’t know,” he said. “It’s better if you don’t focus on it too much. You’ll see him soon enough.”
“Th-Thank you, Severus, really. It means a lot---”
“Get back to dueling,” Severus snapped, interrupting Lupin before he could continue… whatever it was that was happening. “We don’t have time for these interruptions.”
They continued to duel for a few more hours, and Severus attempted to ignore the strange behavior that he just witnessed. Why were they acting so strange? Black, well, he was an asshole as usual, but Lupin was acting strangely… nice?
Severus forcibly thrust that thought out of his mind and strengthened his occlumency barriers. He refused to think about that.
It wasn’t until later, when they took a break for water, did the strange behavior hit it’s peak.
“Are you the reason he’s safe, now?” Lupin asked, breaking the silence as they were hydrating. “Why Peter is gone?”
Severus froze, his entire body stiffening at the question. Severus slowly turned back to look at the pair, his eyes narrowed as he searched for any sign of accusation. He saw none. Severus swallowed his water before he looked back at the door behind him as he spoke.
“My loyalty was always to the Dark Lord,” he says carefully. “I… made a mistake coming to Dumbledore. One that I couldn’t undo.”
“Because of the oath?” Lupin asked, his voice uncharacteristically soft.
“Because of the oath,” Severus confirmed. “But… My loyalty isn’t just to the Dark Lord. It is also to Little One.”
He can practically feel them freeze, the atmosphere suddenly tense. “To Har---Little One? Why?” Black asked carefully.
“It’s what I promised Lily.” Severus answers, ignoring the sharp inhales behind him. “She met with me, a few months before he was born, asking---begging me to save her child. She… she knew she wasn’t going to live much longer and she wanted me to protect her son.”
“She said that?” Black asked, his voice tinged with grief.
Severus nodded silently. “It was her final request to me. And I am honoring it.”
It was silent for a long time as Severus’s words sunk in. Severus leaned back against the wall, his eyes closed, as the memories flew over him. His last encounter with Lily… The things he wished he said back when there was still time.
“I’m sorry.”
Severus’s blood turns to ice because he knows, he knows damn it, what that bastard is apologizing for.
“Don’t---”
“Please.” Remus’s voice was soft, yet it bounced off the walls of the empty training deck. Severus swallowed an unexpected lump in his throat. It silent once more, and Severus has never felt more uncomfortable.
So of course Black makes it worse.
“Severus Snape.” he says suddenly, causing Severus to snap his head up, his eyes narrowing in suspicion as Black approaches him. Severus' mask drops, however, when Black bows. “I give you my sincerest apologize for the way I treated you as children. As well as the way I treated you as an adult. You did not deserve that. I was in the wrong.”
Severus is stunned silent and he takes a step back. “Why…?”
“I was too caught up in my personal problems and I took them out on you, I held a grudge and for that I am so sorry,” Black continued. “You have shown that you care about Har---... Little One… and for that I am eternally grateful. I can never repay what I have done to you, but I hope, in time, I can come close.”
Severus couldn’t speak. He had no words. What… Why… He needed to leave. He took in a sharp breath. “I’m leaving.” he said sharply. Black only nodded and it added to Severus’s turmoil. He spun around and marched out of the training deck as quickly as possible. He leaned against the brick wall and sucked in a harsh breath. Why would Black suddenly do… that?
Severus shook his head forcibly. “Damn Back.” he whispered harshly. “What’s your endgame, here?”
When Voldemort returned to the castle from the New Ministry, every part of him was on edge. The prophecy… the prophecy imploded on itself, so that meant the prophecy was either fake or…
When Voldemort entered his room, he smiled at the sight of his son snuggled up in his sheets, Nagini wrapped around him protectively as she hissed a story to the sleepy toddler. The sight warmed Voldemort’s insides and chased away the wariness that filled him.
“Hello dear heart,” Voldemort cooed, brushing a stray strand of inky hair out of his son’s sleepy face. Little One’s eyes brightened with recognition, but the exhaustion soon pulled him under. Little One held a hand up and weakly grabbed at Voldemort’s robes, but otherwise remained undisturbed. He smiled and pressed a gentle kiss to his son’s forehead. “Sleep now, precious.”
Voldemort then turned and walked into his study, resigning himself to an evening of boring paperwork.
A sudden drop in temperature causes Voldemort’s eyes to widen. The room, previously warm from the fire, turned icy. Voldemort glanced at the fire to see it dancing brightly against the hearth, but he felt none of it’s warmth. When Voldemort breathes out, his breath turns to mist.
He blinks and startles at the change of scenery. He is standing in a blank nothingness, void of anything. Voldemort lets out a harsh gasp and stumbles forward, his head snapping around him, desperately seeking out anything familiar.
Where is he? Where is Nagini? Where is his son?
His son! Where is---
“Little One! Little One, where are you precious? Come to Papa, please!” Voldemort shouts, his knees buckling from the sudden emptiness he feels. “Please, Little One… where…”
Suddenly he feels a presence behind him. It’s unbelievably sudden. One second there is nothing, the next, Voldemort feels the being behind him, the little hairs on the back of his neck standing on end. His appearance was silent, just as everything else was.
But when Voldemort whirled around to attack, he found nothing but the continued nothingness. Voldemort hissed, his crimson eyes darting around, searching for the nameless, faceless thing that he felt, and continued to find nothing.
“Show yourself!” Voldemort demanded. “Show yourself, you coward!”
Voldemort felt his insides freeze when he heard a chuckle from directly behind him.
“I know not why my Dear Sister favors you so,” the thing said, and Voldemort shivered at the thing’s voice. It was deep and raspy and sounded as though hundreds of other voices overlapped it. Voldemort flinched when he felt something caress his cheek, and a shiver ran down his spine at the gentle touch. “You have strayed from me, my dear.” it said, sounding almost wistful before it’s voice hardened once more. “And stolen from me.”
“And what is it that I have stolen?” Voldemort demanded, ignoring the fear he felt. His facade seemed to amuse the being as it chuckled again.
“My Master.” the being said, his voice as hard as a thousand knives. Voldemort winced at the enraged tone. Suddenly the phantom feeling was back, and this time, the being cupped Voldemort's face, a thumb gently rubbing down his cheek. The being’s voice sounded soft, almost sad when he spoke again. “And your soul.”
“My soul---”
“Farewell, my dear Immortal Lord,” the being said. “I dare say, we shall see each other again.”
Voldemort blinked, his head spinning as a disorienting feeling overcame him before he was once again sitting in his study. He sputtered, his chair clattered to the floor as he suddenly stood, his head snapping back and forth, searching for anything that proved what just happened actually happened.
There was nothing.
Nothing, except the wilted bouquet of Spider Lilies on his desk. Voldemort stared as the bouquet he had received from his son yesterday crumbled and wilted until there was nothing left but a pile of petals on his desk.