The Marauders Year Five Part 2 #Wattys2017

The Burning of the Dark Mark

The Burning of the Dark Mark

Severus Snape walked down the hallway of Malfoy Manor, Regulus Black right at his heel, tugging on the hem of his jumper nervously, looking around the dark hallway, Kreacher pulling him along by the robes, his fist tight around a clump of fabric at his Master's knee. "This way, Kreacher will take you to the Dark Lord, yes, Kreacher will take you... This way..." he murmured in a croaky voice and Regulus walked, hesitantly trailing behind Severus Snape, who already knew the way and walked with a bold confidence and assurance that Regulus just did not have. Regulus was afraid, Severus was boldened.

They pushed into the parlor and there was the Dark Lord, standing up before the fire, looking over a copy of the Daily Prophet, the simpering Bellatrix Lestrange beside him, staring at him with absolute adoration. He lowered the paper and stared as the two boys entered, his eyes flitting over them slowly, appraising them. Regulus held his jumper sleeve tighter as Kreacher released his robes and they fell back about his knees.

The Dark Lord put down the paper and moved toward them. Beside him, his snake slithered across the floor, her tongue flickering menacingly.

"And to what do I owe this visit?" he asked lowly.

"I want the Dark Mark," Severus said. "I want to be a Death Eater. I want to serve you better than I can do at school. Take me on as yours, my Lord." And he slid to his knees.

Regulus's eyes widened. This wasn't what he'd expected when he'd told Kreacher to take them to Malfoy Manor. He felt his mouth go quite dry and he glanced nervously between Severus Snape and the Dark Lord, his fingers clutching the sleeve tightly in his hand.

The Dark Lord looked Severus Snape over. "You aren't ready."

"I am ready, my Lord," Severus breathed, "I am. I'm sixteen, and I've been your follower since I was eleven, and I've believed in your greatness and your power long before that. My mother was a great follower of yours, she --"

"Married a mudblood," hissed the Dark Lord, "And the last I have heard, you were looking to follow in those footsteps."

Severus Snape's words rang with a horrible truth that sank his heart clear to the floor. "I will never marry a mudblood."

The Dark Lord looked interested - and pleased - by this severe conviction that dripped over the edges of Severus Snape's words. His lips tweaked up at the edges and he said, "You sound so sure."

"I am absolutely...certain..." Snape drawled lowly, his voice coming from deep in his throat, slow and coiling, tense.

Voldemort moved slowly, circling Severus, appraising him. Then he looked up at Bellatrix. "Go and prepare the iron and the chair."

"My Lord!" she hissed, "He is not ready!"

"Did I ask you to help me in making my choice, Bellatrix?"

"No my Lord," she simpered and she dodged out of the room.

The Dark Lord looked Severus Snape over. "Stand up, boy."

Severus stood.

"Open your mind to me, Severus, I wish to see."

Severus carefully sorted through his mind, carefully stowed away the things he did not want the Dark Lord to access, carefully left out only the parts that were okay for him to see. And he opened that part of his mind alone, and he felt the odd sensation of the Dark Lord sifting through his thoughts, through memories, like sorting through picture books... Seeing the way James Potter had humiliated him, how he, Severus, had struck back and been fought down, how none of the Slytherin boys stepped in like the Death Eaters ought to do to protect one of their own, how he'd hissed the words mudblood at the pretty ginger girl that Voldemort had once seen and accused him of loving...