gaeta

Long lost drabbler

gaeta — Wed, 04 Jul 2007 09:36:29 GMT

It's been so long that I forgot how to do drabble challenges by the rules, so I'm posting this here in my many months disused LJ

Drabble: Overdue (I answered this challenge on "Snape100," but it turned out not to exist.
Pairing: Snape/Harry
Words: 100

~~**~~**~~**~`

”sleepless night”

Snape had been gone hours and Harry, despite himself, was worried.

Snape could take care of himself, but it never left Harry’s mind that at any time, Snape could be found out and simply fail to return from one of these hellacious meetings.

Harry tried to occupy himself with reading, puttering about the house, eating, but tonight nothing worked. He imagined Snape suffering under Cruciatus attacked with his own spell, Sectumsempra, The very worst was the image Harry couldn’t free himself of – Voldemort pointing his wand crying “Avada Kedavra.”

Harry lay sleepless and prayed that overdue wouldn’t become gone forever.

HP Quizlet

gaeta — Tue, 14 Feb 2006 01:53:23 GMT

What is the one thing all the DADA teachers have in common ... with one exception.

No, this is not an anatomy question ;>)

Just to touch base

gaeta — Mon, 06 Feb 2006 05:28:48 GMT

Haven't been posting much. Haven't had much to say. Fighting the Big D. But I'm still here, still reading, just not writing. So ... hi to my flist.

Thought for the day

gaeta — Sat, 14 Jan 2006 20:52:39 GMT

When it comes to porn, two of my favorite words are 'spread' and 'lick.'

That is all.

gaeta — Tue, 03 Jan 2006 03:27:34 GMT

I don't usually meme, but this was such a nice one, especially for the new year, that I'm gakking from the lovely srichard.

The next time someone you love/like/find mildly pleasant crops up on your flist, post a damned comment and tell them so. Don't give me any of that shy crap, they'll probably wet themselves with pleasure.

Now go forth and spread the love under your own damned name, like an honest person! And post this on your journal so that others will engage in the positive behaviour of interacting in a socially acceptable manner.

So, I'm sending you all my love dear flist. Send me yours and then spread forth.

HP Meta/Rebuttal

gaeta — Thu, 15 Dec 2005 22:48:32 GMT

Apparently there's some question of whether our beloved JKR knows what the hell she's doing.

Avoiding the obvious: "She's the fucking richest woman in the world; she probably has a clue!" I'd like to examine this in my own fragmentary way. Some of the questions raised: Is she a world-builder? Does she have a moral vision? Is her work worthy of in-depth analysis? Do the books hang together? In short, ~~is she a good witch or a bad witch~~, er ... a good writer or a bad writer?

Before going on to some of the esoterica of morality and writing quality, let's tackle the central question:

1).There's this nasty piece of work out there, who calls himself Lord Voldemort, and he appears to have something of an adversary in the form of a bespeckled young boy named Harry Potter.

This, iirc, is pretty well-established in PS/SS, along with the fact that, although Harry prevents Voldie from returning then and there, we should expect we haven't seen the last of him.

Plot: Check

2). There is a magical world, which largely exists within the interstices of our own world: (e.g. Platform 9 3/4)

Setting: Check

3). Harry is new to the wizarding world, but he's known by all. He has a mentor (Dumbledore) a best friend-guy (Ron) and a best friend-girl (Hermione) a hated foil (Draco) and an ambiguous nemesis (Snape)

Character: Check

4). Ron and Hermione dislike each other rather intensely initially.

Romantic Subplot: Check

5). Harry defeated Voldie the first time through the power of love, and this is key to how he'll defeat Him again.

Another idea introduced in Book One and harped on continuously throughout the series.

Theme: Check

6). It's our choices that show who we truly are.

We get this, I think, in CoS with, again, many repetitions later on, most especially in HbP.

Deepening of theme: Check

It has been suggested that the theme of good vs. evil is somehow rather shallow. But if we take away that, and take away fate vs. free will for good measure, all that will be left are sex and death, and to be honest, if JKR tackled sex what would all us fanfic writers do???

Now, what about this question of world building. I have to say, I'm in the camp that thinks JKR has done a fairly impressive job allowing that, no, she didn't reinvent the wheel. As I said above, the Magical world exists not as a separate universe but as a culture within the fabric of the world as we know it. Hint: Muggles are people. Now, is that a cheap shortcut? Well, hell, even the most-revered Tolkein didn't bother to explain the solar system.

Rowling has given us a social heirarchy of wizards and witches: purebloods, half-bloods, Muggle borns and squibs. She also gives us House-elfs, animagi, crups and kneazles, Dementors, boggarts, and mandrakes -- all her own invention -- as well as the usual assortment of magical creatures – trolls, werewolves, goblins, and ghosts. She provides us with a government: the Ministry for Magic, a law enforcement agency: MLE and agents: Aurors and a court: the Wizengamot.

We have a main wizarding business district: Diagon Alley and a seedy variation Knockturn Alley (and who doesn't credit her for such clever names); a school with an entire magical curriculum and a Magical national pastime, complete with elaborate rule system. Even when she riffs on common culture, as with the OWLS and NEWTS, you have to give her kudos for the clever. And all that's just what comes off the top of my head, which arguably isn't the solidest place around.

What Rowling's magical world seems to have little of and little interest in is art and literature. It's unlikely that she will write a post-series volume of house-elven poetry and she'll probably be satisfied to let the HP Lexicon handle the chronology. But even her vision of wizarding portraiture and photography are fairly fascinating, with the higher art form embodying something of the spirit of its subject while the lower form is mere representation. As for languages, she lets her wizards speak English and falls back on the classical languages for Spells and such. But are spell designations are varied and creative, from Silencio to Imperious to the terrifying Crucio and my personal favorite, Scourgify (I'd give anything never to have to clean my house again). Perhaps these are limitations, perhaps not (which is shorthand for I'm giving lip service to the opposing view, but not very sincerely).

Are there things JKR didn't know at the outset? Well, sure. For instance, she probably knew that Sirius Black would turn out to have a dog as his Animagus form. Either that or it's a helluva nominal coincidence, but she seems to have overlooked his family manse, leaving him to fend for himself in a cave for a year, and then, much to the gratitude of Remus/Sirius shippers world-wide, lie low at Lupin's for a summer. Does she have a little trouble with the ages of some of her characters. Yes she does. Is she a bit uncertain as to the enrollment of Hogwarts. Yes she is. But is she innocent of the tendency of her books to become successively darker? Of Voldemort and the threat of evil growing more ominous as the series progresses? Has she killed off a more meaningful character in each of the last three books merely by accident? Has Harry become more and more alone by mistake?

Is it true that fans are guilty of nothing more than "overthinking?" We are accused of poring over this text in a way typical of the classroom. Well, not incidentally, the classroom is where people study literature. So, yeah, some of us treat this as a literary work. I'm not sure if the observation is meant to denigrate the work or those who are fannishly interested or both, but since essentially we're being accused of acting like educated people, I'll take the insult. If you can ask the questions and someone will debate with you, the work is sufficiently complex to merit the attention. That's my literary standard and I'm sticking to it.

In the end, whether JKR is brilliant omniscient author or some kind of idiot-savant doesn't at all reflect on whether her work is worthy of serious study. The work is the work, meta is meta and fandom is fandom. That her work has spawned thousands of discussions, essays, works of fan fiction, RPGs, not to mention hours and hours of reading pleasure, ought to speak for itself. It ought not be a cause for dismay or disdain either, for that matter.

If I were pressed to say whether Rowling is a great writer, my answer would be an unhesitant "no," (If she were, she'd have written a lot more about Snape and Remus and Sirius instead of those annoyingly boring adolescents.)

But does she know what she's doing?

Damn straight, she does.

A favor, please

gaeta — Mon, 05 Dec 2005 13:39:35 GMT

I'd be so grateful if someone would make for me an HP-themed holiday icon and/or a non-sectarian winter-type icon. This is a definite shortage in my collection.

Thanks ever so.

Friday afternoon with the grammar goddess

gaeta — Fri, 02 Dec 2005 20:31:35 GMT

Utter inanity this time.

Do you say:

teaspoonsful or teaspoonfuls

passerbys or passersby

all of a sudden or all of the sudden

you've got another think coming or you've got another thing coming

nucleear or nucular

to all intents and purposes or for all intents and purposes

a historian or an historian

What other pairings can you think of?

An Amusing drawing of Snape

gaeta — Tue, 29 Nov 2005 21:50:14 GMT

I came across this in perusing f of flist and thought some of you might enjoy it.
It's by the_gwyllion

ToiletSeat!Snape

In other news, I've derailed a bit on my fitness plan. I was supposed to go to an aerobics class this morning at 9:30, followed by a free hour with a personal trainer at the gym I recently joined, but I couldn't get myself out of bed. I was a zombie until the ridiculous hour of 1 PM!! Consequently, I've got nothing done whatsoever today -- no workout, no grocery shopping. I'm just not inspired by the cloudy raininess.

And then there's my dream-self, who's annoying me with her gullibility. The other night I dreamed I'd gone back to work at a restaurant I worked in over 20 years ago. This is sort of a recurring dream of mine -- finding myself waitressing inexplicably after 19 years in academia. It doesn't quite have the force of nightmare, but it's pretty yucky even so.

Anyway, I've dreamed this sort of thing enough to know even in my dreams that I might well be dreaming, so Dream!Gaeta, finding herself in this suspiciously familiar position, did a reality check and confirmed for herself that indeed this was no dream. She proceeded to give former boss (wife), whom I disliked, a big hug and then sit down for a cigarette for former boss (husband), who was a decided jerk.

Stupid bint!

Finally, I'm far happier than anyone needs to be over the fact that the price of gasoline just went back under $2 a gallon for the first time since last spring. I honestly never thought I'd see that kind of price again.

New Comm

gaeta — Sun, 27 Nov 2005 03:43:22 GMT

HP fen on my flist should go over and see yahtzee63's new comm, hp500. Then you should join and write some little ficlets for me to read.

My debut entry (which came in a bit over the 500 word limit) is Conundrum

The Final Chapter

gaeta — Tue, 22 Nov 2005 19:43:18 GMT

Here is the final chapter of the story. It's very very dark and a/u as of HBP. I'm a bit ambivalent about the ending. Please tell me what you think.

Thanks once again to cordelia_v and bethbethbeth. Remaining faults are a factor of my own stubbornness alone.

Scenes from a Mentorship
Scene 8/8 -- Finale
Snape, Harry (gen)
Rating: R for graphic violence
(this part, PG-13)

Link to earlier scenes

Scene 8 – Finale

~~*~~

When Snape fell, Harry was rocked back by the charge of the spell that had hit him. As soon as he recovered, he stumbled forward toward his teacher, face clouded with sweat and tears and knelt by his side.

"No," Snape managed to lift his head and gesture Harry away. "You mustn't stop. Make sure it is finished," he said in a croaking whisper.

Dazed, Harry turned back to the crumpled figure behind him. The form didn't move as Harry prodded it with his wand, turning over the lifeless, now shriveled body of Tom Riddle.

He had done it. He had killed Lord Voldemort. But only because Snape had been there to take the brunt of Voldemort's attack, protecting Harry and paying a terrible price from the look of him.

The final stages of Harry's training had been intense as he and Professor Snape had planned and practiced for every possible scenario. In the end, Voldemort had literally walked into their parlour.

There had been warning that an attack would come, that the Death Eaters had inside contacts, and when the attack came every teacher and every member of the Order was there to defend the school. When Voldemort himself arrived, the battle was in full swing. Snape, who had been waiting for this moment, drew the Dark Lord's attention and then gave chase, luring him down to the dungeons where Harry, for once obedient, was waiting.

When he blew the door to Snape's office off its hinges, retribution toward his traitorous servant taking momentary precedence, Voldemort had gone for Snape first. Outmatched, Snape nevertheless managed to protect Harry and shield him from Voldemort's attack long enough for Harry to apply the necessary ungent to his body, chanting an incantation and then cast the Dark spells that would assure that not only Riddle's body was destroyed, but the soul within as well.

First had been a binding spell, not the physical binding any second year could do, but a binding of one body to the will of another's mind. The binding was meant to slow down an opponent, but it was hardly enough to stop him. And it had to be followed with Nihil ex corpus, which prevented a spirit from leaving the body it inhabited. This spell required the blood of the caster be smeared on the victim.

Voldemort was not easy to slow down, but with the spell in place, Snape had managed to occupy Voldemort with a fierce parry of spells long enough for Harry to let out his own and touch a fingertip to the nape of Voldemort's neck before the Dark wizard could regain his equilibrium and turn in a rage upon Harry himself.

That's when Snape had leapt between them, attacking the Dark Lord with yet one more flurry of hexes and giving Harry the extra moments he needed to perform the series of killing spells from a position where Voldemort could not reach him to retaliate.

But he could retaliate against Snape, and in the split second that Snape checked his parry to turn and check on Harry, Voldemort sent a last curse flying, which reached Snape even as Voldemort fell to the final strains of Harry's magic.

~~*~~

"It's over. He's dead," Harry said, returning to Snape's side and kneeling there once more. Snape's face was ashen and there were beads of sweat on his pallid forehead.

Snape shook his head. "Perform incendio" he insisted. "It is not over until he's gone."

"I will, but not until Dumbledore has seen," Harry said. "Don't worry. He's not coming back. That spell really worked."

"Of course it worked," Snape managed to sneer even though the effort made him wince.

"What's wrong with you?" Harry was full of concern. "Are you going to be all right? What can I do?" He put a hand out to touch Snape's arm, but Snape flinched back so violently that Harry withdrew, dismayed.

"No I'm not going to be all right," said Snape, "I'm going to die, and there's nothing you can do, so please be still and just don't do anything to make it worse."

"What do you mean, you're going to die?" Harry whined, sounding like a child sent to bed without supper.. "You can't. We killed him. We won. And you're still alive. You don't look injured. Why do you say you're going to die?"

"It's quite simple," Snape assured him in a weak and weary voice. "The curse he cast, "Perpeti ad Mortem suffer unto death. It does its work without apparent injury. And he added 'dolore et lente' for good measure.

"What's 'dolore and lente' Harry asked dully. This couldn't be true, it just couldn't. Snape had done too much, fought too well, to be destroyed like this in the moment of their triumph.

A faint glitter of condescension appeared in Snape's eyes. "You always were crap at Latin, weren't you Potter," he said acidly. "Dolore et Lente" – Painful and Slow," he intoned with a dour expression and watched as Potter's face paled.

"He cursed you with a slow and painful death," Harry whispered.

"That is correct."

"But surely it can't be hopeless," Harry's voice was pleading. "I mean there must be an antidote or a counter spell. I can see that you're in pain, but it's not so much that you have to die, is it?"

"Not just now," Snape agreed. "If I died at once, then it wouldn't be a slow and painful death, would it? The Dark Lord does not ... did not mince words. His intent will guide the curse. And you have seen something of his propensity to enjoy suffering even with someone like Remus Lupin who did him no particular harm, but I ... I was a trusted servant, and I betrayed him, and I taught you, an impudent upstart, to destroy him.

"He placed the curse on me he would have liked to see me suffer himself, but that he is not here to see it does not lessen the impact of his words."

"No," Harry said again. "There must be something. Let me get Madam Pomfrey, she must some kind of special pain killer... or Professor Dumbledore. They'll know what to do."

"Gods!" cried Snape in exasperation. "Do no such thing, but for once in your life obey. There is nothing they can do. No pain killer can stop what is to come, no counter spell and no antidote. And I do not wish to die in a hospital bed with Poppy Pomfrey clucking over me like a sad mother hen or Albus Dumbledore sprouting platitudes.

"Please, Potter," he sighed, "just help me up from here. I prefer not to die on the floor; it's most undignified. Help me up and get me to my bed if you will, before I am in too great pain to be moved."

Harry stared speechless at Professor Snape. "Now, if you please. I prefer not to go with a stiff neck." Snape said with a faint parody of the ususal acid in his tone.

Harry reached an arm around Snape, but at his touch, Snape gave such a shudder of pain Harry drew back, abashed.

"It is going to hurt me a little, Mr. Potter; But it cannot be helped, and I will not hold it against you, I promise. Just give me your hand."

Harry steeled himself and, gripping the potions master under both arms, managed to help him to his feet and then over to the door that led to his private chamber. Snape muttered the password and the door swung open.

Clutching Snape to him, Harry crossed the sitting room and then went through the far door into Snape's bed chamber. He helped Snape to the bed, crawling onto it with Snape still in his arms so he could lower him gently upon the coverlet without causing more discomfort than necessary.

"Thank you," said Snape, once Harry had gingerly placed some pillows beneath Snape's head and then sat back on the edge of the bed, regarding his teacher with deep concern.

"Now get me a sleeping draught," Snape told him. "There's a blue vial on the bedside table."

Harry looked horrified. "Will you ... will you just sleep until ..."

Snape shook his head. "No," he said. "I have no wish to hasten my own death, and in any case, soon sleep will not be possible, but if I can rest now, I will be able to withstand it longer."

Harry fetched the potion from Snape's table, and with shaking hand, he uncorked the bottle and held it to Snape's lips.

"I don't understand," Harry said as Snape leaned back and sighed, almost as if contented. "How can you be so complacent when you're in pain and ... and about to ... don't you care that you're going to die?"

"Of course I care," Snape said, his tone clipped. "But I have been expecting to die at the Dark Lord's hands for the better part of twenty years. In the event, I am most grateful that my death at least will not have been in vain. That may be of little matter to one as young as you, Mr. Potter, but it is of great importance to me."

Harry nodded. "You think it's worth it because Voldemort died," he said.

"And because you did not."

Harry lowered his eyes. He suddenly felt ashamed to look at Snape. This man had devoted 20 years of his life to a cause and the last six had done all he could to help prepare Harry to play his part. Suddenly Harry was overwhelmed at the thought of his own immaturity and ingratitude in the face of such sacrifice. Until this moment, he had never fully appreciated ... or even trusted Snape, and now that the man was dying, it was too late to make amends. Any apologies he offered would ring hollow.

He sat quietly until he heard Snape's breathing slow and then looked up to see the man's eyes closed in an uneasy sleep. Gently he took Snape's hand and held it in his own, stroking the palm with his fingers.

"I'm sorry I've been so difficult," he said to the sleeping man. "I should have trusted you, I should have listened to you. I shouldn't have ..." he trailed off.

Snape's breathing hitched suddenly, and he shuddered in his sleep, head to toe. The pain must be worsening. "No," Harry whispered urgently. "This isn't right. He can't die like this. There has to be something I can do. I have to do something."

He took Snape's other hand, and he stood up, clutching both Snape's hands tightly in his own. "I have defeated Voldemort, he said. "I can do this." He trained his eyes intently upon Snape's face. "No more pain," he chanted. "No more pain, no more pain, no more pain."

But the furrow of Snape's brow only deepened as another shudder of pain went through him. Soon Snape would wake up in even greater pain. Harry didn't want to think what would happen then.

He bent over Snape's body, bringing his face close to the sleeping man's. Almost without thinking, he began chanting different words, based on the spells Snape had taught him to use on Voldemort.

"Malus ex corpus," he whispered. Malus ex corpus ... ad meam. Ad meam. Malus ex corpus ad meam."

There was a terrible stillness. Harry shivered with a sudden chill as a flood of energy came over him. But the energy wasn't the pain he was trying to take from Snape's body; in fact, it wasn't coming from Snape at all, but from somewhere outside. Harry could feel something inside him and he knew suddenly it was not pain but evil he'd called into himself. "Professor Snape, help me," he cried out

Snape's eyes flew open and he saw Harry standing above him. "What have you done?" he gasped, though it was an effort to speak through the pain. Something was wrong with Harry. That face was not quite his.

Then Snape saw that there was an odd glowing in Harry's eyes, with behind it a hint of red. He understood what was happening.

"Oh, you fool," he cried, but it wasn't Harry who answered. "Sseverusss, someone said in Harry's voice, but unmistakably Not-Harry.

Then it was Harry again, apparently struggling with the force inside him for control. "Snape, please!" he pleaded, eyes full of fear. "Do something! Stop this!" Then Harry was gone again.

Snape acted quickly. Before the possession could be completed, he grabbed Harry's wand from the bedside table where he'd left it and with all his strength, he thrust the wandpoint straight into one red eye and cried "Harry! Avada Kedavra, Harry. Avada Kedavra, Tom.

Harry's body slumped forward, his head resting on the bed, and the eyes that stared hollowly up at Snape were now the green and lifeless eyes of Harry Potter.

Snape dropped to the ground beside his fallen student, his face full of a pain deeper than that of his body.

"Well Harry!" he whispered. "You were an impulsive, foolish boy right to the end. And in the end dumb luck was no match for Dark Magic" Wincing with a wave of pain, Snape managed to pull Harry up onto the bed and cradled him in his arms, the boy's face resting against Snape's chest. The pain was too great now. He knew it wouldn't be long. He wrapped his arms tightly around Harry's body and leaned them both back against the pillows.

"So it ends," he mused to himself. "I'm sorry I could not save you," he whispered, and as he felt himself faltering, the last thought he had was one of relief that he wouldn't have to see the look of profound disappointment on the headmaster's face.

~~*~~

The end.

Snape/Harry fic, (long dormant) scene 7

gaeta — Sat, 19 Nov 2005 17:52:13 GMT

I've decided to finish posting my long-dormant, pre-HBP Mentorship story.
The final part, which needs a bit of editing, will be posted in a few days.

Here, without further ado:

Scenes from a Mentorship
Scene 7 of 8 -- Rematriculation
Snape/Harry (gen)
Rating: R for graphic violence
PG-13, this scene

Link to earlier scenes

~~*~~

A simple Alohomora opened the door, revealing Potter sitting on the bed of a small, dingy room in Muggle London. The only other furnishings were a small table and a rickety chair. A lopsided curtain hung from the one, dirty window that looked out onto the stone wall of the next door building.

"So," said Snape, dryly, waving the door shut with his hand, "this is what you've run away to."

"I wasn't running to anything," Potter answered, not bothering to get up. "and you know it."

"And what is it you're running from then?" Snape asked. His voice was calm, but his eyes were fixed firmly on the boy on the bed.

"I was just tired of people dying," Potter said resentfully, returning Snape's gaze steadily.

"People shall die, Mr. Potter, whether you are present or no; you cannot escape that."

"Well, I was sick of them dying because of me, then," Potter answered. Now he did look away and swiped at the wetness under one eye with an impatient hand.

Snape took a step closer to the boy. "Is this where I'm supposed to give you a pat on the shoulder and tell you it'll all be all right?" he asked.

Potter snorted. "If I'd wanted that, I'd have owled Mrs. Weasley, not you."

The twitch of Snape's lip wasn't quite a smile. "Molly Weasley," he said, "would have wrapped you in the suffocation of a maternal hug ... and then she'd have given you the scolding of your life for worrying her."

A small smile flickered on Potter's face, then faded. "Were you?" he asked. "Worried, I mean."

"Of course!" Snape snapped. "I presumed, correctly of course, that you'd not been abducted, but left of your own willful accord, but that didn't make the danger to you any less."

"Then why haven't you ... um."

"Um what? Why haven't I what?"

"Yelled at me, sir."

"I was attempting first to learn your state of mind and possibly your motives and intentions. But if you wish to be yelled at, I shall certainly oblige you. You seem to be in your usual condition of hero complex modified by petulant self-pity. That is somewhat reassuring," Snape said sarcastically.

"As to your motive, if you wished to avoid endangering people, then disappearing without telling anyone where you were going or even leaving any indication that you went freely, and, thus, sending half the Order and considerable number of Hogwarts' staff searching for you was hardly the wisest course, was it? Nor did you give much consideration to your own safety. It might not have been a friend who found you first."

Potter looked up at that, and for a moment seemed about to retort to the "friend" comment, but instead, he said, "I don't care so much about myself anymore. And I'm a danger to others wherever I am. It hardly matters."

"Really?" Snape said. "And just how many people have been ... endangered when you've stayed where you were supposed to be?"

"Cedric Diggory," Harry answered immediately. "I didn't do anything I wasn't supposed to do then, and he got killed, and Voldemort came back. It wasn't my fault!"

"You're right. That wasn't your fault," Snape conceded. "But the same cannot be said for your escapade at the Department of Mysteries or your .... " Snape stopped short of mentioning Potter's more recent indiscretion directly, gathering that it was the obvious cause of the boy's current funk. "It is true that the danger to you is constant, indeed it is to us all, but to you especially since you are a particular target. As such, placing yourself in a position of greater vulnerability, away from the protection of both Hogwarts and the Order is nothing but folly."

"You're a target, too," Potter said unexpectedly. "Maybe almost as much as me."

"More I should think, at the moment." Snape replied. "The Dark Lord's almost single-minded pursuit of power is not quite above distraction by disloyalty or deception, and He has just learned that I have perpetrated both quite extensively."

"Then why did you come here if you're in so much danger, especially when you know what's happened to people who've tried to protect me before?"

"Well, it was I you contacted. I supposed that meant it was I who should come."

"But how did you know it wasn't a trap: that you weren't walking right into Voldemort's hands?"

"Do you honestly believe I walked into this room blind? I am well able to detect a trap, Potter, and I have never walked into one without knowing exactly what I was doing, I assure you."

"Like becoming a Death-Eater, right?" Potter said boldly. "I suppose you knew what you were getting into then."

"I did not," Snape admitted, but a mistake is not the same thing as a trap, either."

"No," agreed Potter, "but you had walked into a trap before then ... when Sirius sent you to the Shrieking Shack." He paused, raising his eyes and jutting his chin in something like triumph.

"What is your point?" Snape asked in a dangerous voice.

"Is that why you became a Death-Eater?" Harry asked, despite Snape's glare. "Because you'd been tricked by an enemy ... and then had your life saved by another?"

"Yes, that's why I became a Death-Eater," Snape said sarcastically, "because of a foolish boyhood grudge .... What are you after, Potter? Are you trying to piss me off?"

Potter shook his head. "No, not really," he said.

"Let me tell you something. What your precious godfather did was no 'trick.' Whether he intended it or not, he was a nasty little shit, who might have sent me to my death that night. As for your father, Special Service to the school aside, he was no paragon of virtue, as you know already. But no, I did not become a follower of the Dark Lord because of the likes of them."

Potter watched warily as his teacher's harsh breathing gradually calmed. "Then why did you?" he asked finally.

Snape's eyes narrowed. "You've no right, nor have I any intention of sharing that information with you, boy. How dare you set yourself up as my inquisitor! You are the one whose actions are in question, and as I have, as you pointed out, put myself at risk in coming after you, it is you who owes me an accounting. Is it your intention to return with me to Hogwarts or not?"

Potter looked genuinely surprised. "Aren't you going to make me go back?" he asked.

"There hardly seems much point in that since you have clearly demonstrated that you will stay put or not as pleases yourself. Isn't that so?"

"Yes," Potter agreed.

"Well then.?"

"It depends, sir."

"I see." Snape nodded. "I assume 'it depends' means it depends on whatever reason you had for contacting me instead of just coming back on your own as you could well have done."

"It depends on whether you'll do something," Potter said, evading Snape's glare to study his hands which sat folded in his lap, but his gesture of meekness did little to pacify Snape's temper.

"You impudent whelp," he shouted, angrier than he'd been at anything the brat had said yet. "You are in no position to be setting conditions. I ought to ..."

He stalked forward until he was almost upon the boy, who looked up and let out a short gasp. There was, for the first time, real apprehension in his eyes.

Snape drew back. "You are trying to piss me off," he said. It wasn't a question.

"I, well, sort of," Potter stammered.

"Why?"

"Because I don't know if I can trust you."

"Oh for Merlin's sake. Do you think putting me into a fury will tell you if you can trust me?"

"Yes."

"What ... How on earth ...?" Snape had rarely been this nonplused. "Oh, this is ridiculous." he said in exasperation. "Please explain yourself, Mr. Potter."

"I still don't know if I trust you after what happened to Remus," Potter said, lifting a hand boldly to stop Snape's protest. "I know I was stupid to be there, but you could have stopped it, and you didn't . Just like with Sirius. You could have kept that whole mess from happening if you'd just told me you'd look out for him, but you said nothing."

"That Umbridge woman ..." Snape began, but Potter's frustration suddenly reached the boiling point.

"You're a teacher!" he shouted. "You could have stood up to her ... better than I could. You were more powerful than that bitch any day – magically, I mean."

"Listen to me, Potter," Snape took the boy by the shoulders, hauling him up off the bed,. "I had no idea that you were about to act so rashly. I believed "that bitch" as you aptly call her, to have had you under control, and I immediately went to ascertain that Black was indeed safe. It is not my fault that you did not have the sense to let cooler heads prevail."

"You've always accused me of looking for trouble. Why would you think I wouldn't do it then? You should have known. You should have stopped me. You could have saved Sirius! You could have saved Remus! But you never do anything if it means risking your own arse."

Snape raised a hand and slapped Potter once, hard on each cheek. Abruptly the boy stopped shouting. Then he burst into tears, burying his face against Snape's chest. Snape pulled his arms away for a moment, uncertainly. Then, with a sigh, he put them around the boy, holding him tightly as he wept.

"What is it you are afraid I will not do, Harry?" Snape asked quietly as he gently guided the boy to sit back down on the bed once his tears had subsided.

"I want you to teach me how to kill Voldemort," he answered, looking up at Snape determinedly, despite his red, puffy eyes.

Snape stood back, regarding Harry thoughtfully. He put one arm across his waist, resting his other elbow upon it as he stroked his chin. "Do you think you're ready to do that," he asked finally and without sarcasm.

"I've killed already," Harry said. "And he's killed just about everyone I love. If I'm not ready now, I never will be."

Snape sat down on the bed, the mattress sagging heavily under their combined weights. He put a hand on Harry's knee. "Do you think it's as simple as that?" he asked, regarding the boy seriously.

"Yes," Harry said. "I think it's that simple."

"And you trust me to do this?"

"I have no choice," he said. Then, at Snape's troubled look added, "I want to trust you, sir."

Snape sighed. "There are no guarantees, Potter," he said gruffly.

Harry nodded. Then he stood and put his hands on his hips resolutely, "I know that," he said.

"Then let us return to Hogwarts."

~~*~~
End Part Seven

HP reading and writing habits, post-HBP

gaeta — Thu, 10 Nov 2005 00:54:52 GMT

View Poll: Post-HBP Fan Fiction Poll

Drabbling Snape

gaeta — Mon, 07 Nov 2005 20:27:29 GMT

I haven't drabbled in ages, but here's one I did for this week's snape100 challenge

Destiny
Words:100

~~*~~

When the other Slytherins mocked him and called him Half-blood, he ignored them and in his heart, proudly took the name as his own.

When the obnoxious Potter and his friends humiliated him, he gritted his teeth and swore he’d see them all laid low, and so it came to be.

When he bowed before the Dark Lord, he kept his mind Occluded, certain one day he’d escape those bonds.

But when Albus Dumbledore begged him with shining blue eyes, he did what he thought he could not do and knew at last that he was not his own Master.

~~*~~

I'll be insane before the two years is up!

gaeta — Sat, 23 Jul 2005 18:35:43 GMT

Why didn't they ask her why Dumbledore gave Snape the DADA position?

Or whether Dumbledore would really plead for his life when he supposedly trusted Snape entirely?

Or why Snape refuses to hurt Harry in chapter 28?

And is her comment that Snape is in some ways more culpable than Voldemort just feeding the Snape is evil fires as an act of misdirection? Or is it a straightforward answer?

And in the meantime, where oh where is the new Snape/Harry fic?

What do the portraits know?

gaeta — Wed, 20 Jul 2005 22:55:11 GMT

I was rereading chapter 17, in which Harry once again questions Dumbledore about his trust of Snape. This little exchange caught my attention:

"So, sir," said Harry, in what he hoped was a polite, calm voice, "you definitely still trust --?"
"I have been tolerant enough to answer that question already," said Dumbledore, but he did not sound very tolerant anymore.
"My answer has not changed."
"I should think not," said a snide voice; Phineas Nigellus was evidently only pretending to be asleep.

Is this just a throwaway line, or does Phineas actually know something? After all, his portrait would have been there when Snape came to Dumbledore, ready to turn away from the Dark Lord. Does Nigellus know the reason Dumbledore trusts Snape? He seems to support it if he does.

gaeta — Wed, 20 Jul 2005 16:05:40 GMT

Has anyone considred that the one Regulus took with him to destroy the Horcrux in the cave was Kreacher? That would solve the problem about the boat only carrying one fully-powerful wizard. It also provides a convenient way for the identity of RAB and the location of the real locket to be revealed in book 7 since Kreacher likely still has some role to play, or why else would Rowling have bothered to keep him around in HBP?

Just one question

gaeta — Wed, 20 Jul 2005 00:26:50 GMT

Brief, very spoilery poll behind the cut

View Poll: When did you know?

gaeta — Mon, 18 Jul 2005 23:03:34 GMT

Having finally had the chance to drive to and from work, which seems to be when ideas germinate best, here are what pass for my first significant, coherent thoughts concerning HBP.

SPOILERS AHOY

First came the initial, horrifying shock. Perhaps some readers took the signals that Dumbledore would die in this novel and put them together with Draco's mission and Snape's vow and came up with the conclusion that Snape would kill Dumbledore. I was not one of them. For me, the first reaction was OMG, Snape!

Then came the dawning understanding, tentative in those first moments of shock, but gradually more sure: Dumbledore wasn't pleading for his life. He was pleading with Snape to be strong enough to do what was necessary. Snape's action, horrific though it was, was an act of loyalty, not betrayal.

Next was the gathering together, by a great many fans on LJ, to clarify and give comfort, to point out the many instances of evidence throughout the novel that support claims of Snape's loyalty. And these were many, and they were eloquent, and they continue to be the basis for the beginnings of coming to terms with what happens in HBP.

Still, there is lingering shock, and more than that, I'd say lingering agony for many readers, including me, in the early days post-HBP. It's this that I wish to write about.

Ironically, HBP gives Snape fans what we have been waiting six books to get, namely, conclusive evidence of Snape's loyalty. Up until now we've not seen a definitive act of loyalty from Snape. Now we have. But what a price we pay for this certainty. The nature of Snape's act is not just horrifying in itself; that would be easier to come to terms with. But its impact in terms of the plot is such that the very act that proves his loyalty to the reader convinces every character in the novel of his betrayal. With Dumbledore dead and with Snape having killed him, there is no character that we know of who knows the truth. This is an agonizing position to be in as a reader.

What's worse, excruciating as it will be to read Book 7 with Snape in this horrible position – and I won't even go into the near impossibility of a happy outcome for Snape – we can't even do that for two years or perhaps more. That's a long time to leave readers in a state of agony.

I am prepared to accept that the two years will not be an unmitigated stretch of misery and that there will be lots of lovely fics that explore Snape's dilemma and invent scenarios for the eventual revelation to Order members, and most particularly to Harry, of Snape's true role. Already there have been some. Stories by srichard and amberdiceless come readily to mind. This is a good thing.

I imagine I might eventually be persuaded that it wasn't the cruellest act in the world to leave us in this state of agony with only the promise of more to come. But for the moment there is still shock, there is still agony, and I am still raw.

gaeta — Sun, 17 Jul 2005 21:19:21 GMT

Whoever observed that Harry, following DD's orders, also as good as killed him when he forced that drink down his throat, thank you.

But, oh, how I wish Dumbledore could have given Harry just a hint.

Despair and Gratitude

gaeta — Sun, 17 Jul 2005 04:47:47 GMT

Need I say SPOILERS?

I'm not sure whether to despair in the novel or take heart in the fandom. I finished the book with a deep sense of desolation, not just because of the horrible box Snape has put himself in, which I fear he can only get out of by dying, but because so much of the novel spent so much time not setting up this crucial plotline, or rather setting it up weakly. After that first scene, which is chilling, most of the development of this part of the book is presented through Draco's behavior and Harry's pursuit of his secret in a way that is just not ominous enough to carry the plot along or make the final revelataion anything but a punch in the gut. Yeah, that's how JKR writes. I should understand that, but there I was, left with that punched-in-the-gut feeling.

I'm pretty strong in the camp of those who believe Snape was carrying out DD's wishes by killing him in the end. The arguments have been superbly laid out, notably by luthien. But believing in Snape's genuine allegience to DD did not offer me any comfort in terms of the book itself. I hate that Snape lost not only his one champion but completely discredited himself with all those who had to greater or lesser degrees marginally trusted him. I can't forsee anyone stepping up and speaking for Severus in Book 7, though perhaps if one of the adults had all the information Harry has, it might be different. This is a depressing prospect for me because I have made a certain emotional investment in seeing Snape vindicated, and now it appears that this vinidcation is far off and probably to come only at the sacrifice of his life.

This is where fandom comes in, though, because, much as the book depressed me, I am loving the vibrant discussion. I know it's early and there's no telling how things will go from here, but for now, I'm grateful that you all are out there posting and commenting. Thank you from my heart.

Snape/Harry story, scene 6

gaeta — Tue, 28 Jun 2005 17:39:16 GMT

Scenes from a Mentorship
Scene 6 of 8 -- Attrition
Snape/Harry
Rating: R for graphic violence
PG-13, this scene

Link to erlier scenes

When they reappeared in Snape's office, Harry fell to his knees - the combined effects of a rough Portkey transport, the strain of the wandless magic he'd performed, and the sheer trauma of the last hour leaving him reeling - and vomited profusely.

As soon as he could, he struggled to his feet, eyes streaming with angry tears, and he rushed at Snape with both fists raised.

"Bastard! You're a fucking bastard, Snape!" he cried, swinging for Snape's face even though he was still swaying unsteadily on his feet.

Snape easily caught Harry's wrist and held him at bay with one hand, holding him fast, but offering no additional support as Harry sagged with another wave of nausea.

Harry managed to get his legs under control and stand more firmly. Snape continued to keep him at arm's length, and Harry stopped struggling against his grip to look him directly in the eye.

"You bastard," he said again. "You had a Portkey. You could have saved us any time and you let Remus die. You're as good as a murderer!"

"Be silent," Snape said furiously and pushed Harry down roughly into the chair beside his desk. He stalked away from Harry, standing with his back turned and his hand raised to his forehead for several moments. When he turned to face Harry again, his face was pale and quite blank of expression.

"I am as good as a murderer many times over," he said coldly. "I am sorry if this truth of my life has appalled you. If you could not bear to see it, you should have stayed at home in your bed. As a matter of fact, that's precisely where you should have been tonight."

"You're not sorry at all," Harry cried, ignoring the rebuke. "You hate me, and you hate Remus, just like you hated Sirius ... and my dad. All of them are dead, and it's because you didn't lift a finger to save any of them. It must be great to be you, sir. You get to be on the side of Light and still watch all your old enemies die because it's your job.

"You might as well go back to Voldemort for real for all the good you've done anyone on our side."

"Oh, and I suppose you think he'd just accept me back with open arms, all because the famous Harry Potter had renounced me. Never mind the troubling bit about me being a spy for the Order."

Snape took a moment to compose himself, dropping into the chair behind his desk and then leaning across toward Harry to continue. "I wouldn't have expected such ridiculous accusations even from you, although I might chalk it up to extreme stress if I weren't so painfully aware of your natural arrogance and self-delusion.

"Every one of those people you named died trying to protect you, Potter. It's a credit to your ingenuity that you have concocted a way to blame me for all of it. Let me remind you, Sirius Black wouldn't have been in a position to be killed if not for your rashness, nor can I imagine that Lupin would willingly have allowed you to accompany him on any Order business, much less a meeting with Peter Pettigrew. Perhaps he'd not have survived the night in any case, but your presence was certainly a distraction and compromised his ability to defend himself."

Harry slumped in his chair, eyes downcast. But then he looked up again, his eyes blazing again. "No!" he shouted. "I don't care what you say about me. Call me stupid or whatever you want to, but you could have saved him and you didn't, and I'll never believe you. You're a traitor."

"How dare you speak to me like that," Snape thundered. "I saved your life tonight, boy, in case you hadn't noticed. Not that I'd expect any gratitude from you, but if you do not show me the respect I deserve, you shall be most deeply sorry for it."

"I'm already sorry," Harry shot back. "You did nothing tonight but save your own arse, It was okay to stand there like a good Death-Eater while Remus was tortured and killed, but you got out of there pretty damn fast once I let on you were a spy, didn't you?"

"Yes, indeed! Thank you for that." Snape's voice was rich with sarcasm. "It was a position I'd protected ceaselessly, and at considerable cost, for over 15 years, and you managed to undo all that work in a matter of moments."

Snape's eyes flashed furiously and spittle formed at the corners of his mouth as he spoke. "For that, it is I who should be railing at you, Mr. Potter. I had no choice but to stage an escape because it was the last and only chance remaining to save your life if no outside rescue was forthcoming. I'd hardly have been in a position to rescue you later, would I? What's more, Remus Lupin died in part to protect my secret. Those were his orders as I know he told you. I suppose it hasn't occurred to you how utterly without meaning you've made his death as well."

This time Harry's crestfallen expression did not fade, but Snape was too angry to relent. "Lupin was not some novice, nor foot soldier. He was a commander. He knew the danger and he knew the protocol; it was a strategy partly of his own devising. Had I intervened before there was imminent danger to you specifically, Lupin would be standing here berating me for it right now.

"His role was to defer that danger for as long as possible, drawing attention to himself in any way possible in hopes that a rescue would be staged from outside. Mine was to wait and be ready to act should he fail. Unfortunately, the Dark Lord was in a particularly volatile state tonight, not in the mood for indulging prisoners. That wasn't Lupin's fault," Snape allowed. "It was just his misfortune."

His gaze fell to his hands, reflectively. In truth, Voldemort's temper that night might be considered Snape's fault in part. Voldemort's suspicions about a spy were very likely a direct result of information Snape had given to the Order. Even before Lupin and Potter had been brought in, Snape had already been concerned that he'd gone too far across the delicate line he always trod.

Snape raised his head and regarded the boy across from him more carefully. Harry was still slumped in his chair, head lowered, swiping angrily at his eyes now and then. Snape knew that he had probably heaped far too much on the boy's head and ought to try to comfort him even though it was not his inclination, and he highly doubted Potter would accept comfort from him given their fraught relationship and the heated conversation they'd just held ... especially with Lupin's death so fresh in his mind.

It was only natural that the boy blamed him. It was pure self-defense He should not have reacted angrily to that. He took a deep breath and spoke as gently as he was able.

"Harry, I did not expect what happened tonight to happen. It was most unusual that such a highly-placed prisoner not be kept longer," he explained. "For other ... purposes." He paused to see how the boy took that.

"It's almost for the better that it went as quickly as it did. You may not think so, but it could have gotten much worse. "

"But Professor Lupin died. How could it be worse than that?"

Snape shook his head wearily. "Trust me," he said quietly.

"I don't trust you," Harry answered, but his voice was more dispirited than bitter.

"In any case, you were not responsible," Snape went on, ignoring Potter's weak insult. "Had Lupin been taken alone, there would still have been nothing whatsoever I could have done to help him. That is how things are. It is deeply unfortunate that you had to witness it."

"But Professor Lupin still died," Harry said plaintively. "And I'm supposed to kill Voldemort to stop people dying and I can't do it."

"You are not ready to do it," Snape answered, his teacher voice emerging. "That is what you are training for."

"No, that's bollocks!" Harry said angrily. "I'm sick of this training. I did it your way. I listened to Remus and I waited and I was patient and self-disciplined and it did no good. Voldemort killed Remus.

"Need I remind you that you should not have been there in the first place?" Snape lectured. "Staying put, that would have been patient and self-disciplined. Nevertheless," he added, "you did at least dispatch Peter Pettigrew, and rather decisively at that."

Snape's compliment was offered begrudgingly, and Potter shrugged it off. "That was just because I was so angry, I wasn't even thinking. Isn't that what you're always criticizing me for? Why couldn't it have been Voldemort? Maybe I should just do the same thing to him. Then all this would be over and I wouldn't have to wait and see any more people die while I'm in training.

"You're a fool if you think it will be that easy to kill Lord Voldemort," Snape snapped back.

"Oh, and aren't you forgetting to yell at me for letting Voldemort see me do mind magic? I thought that was supposed to be such a big secret."

Snape rubbed a hand absently over his chin. "Yes, well you let more than one cat out of the bag tonight, Potter," he agreed. "But at least in one case something was gained. Pettigrew was a most devoted follower. You can be sure Voldemort is counting up his losses tonight, and he's no more happy than we are."

"I'd take it back," Harry said ruefully, "if it meant Remus could be alive ... or Sirius."

"Well that cannot be," Snape said practically. "It would serve you better to learn from your experience so that you do not make the same mistake ..."

Enraged by this teacherly advice, Harry suddenly flew across the room at Snape. "Shut up," he shouted. "I'm done listening to you. You always say the same thing. I'm done training with you. I'm done believing you. I'm done! Do you hear me? I'm through!"

Harry's eyes flashed and he raised a hand as if to hex Snape.

"Don't be a fool," Snape shouted back, rising and drawing his wand. He grabbed Harry's wrist and twisted it until the boy cried out. When Snape released him, he brought his hand down on the desk in rage.

"I'm through with you and your lies," he shouted again. "I don't need you! I don't need you!" He turned and stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

Snape sat back down and sighed deeply. "It seems," he said aloud to himself "that I have accomplished nothing."

He sat there, his face in his hands, for a long time.

~~*~~
End Part 6

More story for GMTH

gaeta — Wed, 22 Jun 2005 19:06:55 GMT

Picking up where bethbethbeth left off ...

http://www.livejournal.com/users/bethbethbeth/197651.html

Severus sprawled back against the coverlet panting and laughed. “Lucius, that was the most mind-blowing orgasm I’ve had in, well ... ever.”

Lucius lifted a smiling face toward Severus, his lips swollen and still smeared with Severus’s juices. “I could tell.” he said smugly. “You screamed so beautifully.”

“But this one isn’t actually writing the sex, either,” Lucius complained.

“Gaeta?” Severus asked.

“Right, she’s supposed to be able to write the stuff the other one won’t touch. What’s wrong with her?”

“Yes,” Severus agreed with a sigh. “It appears she’s rather concerned about the state Potter’s in,” he gestured over to where the naked boy they’d strung up and forced to watch them, dangled, perilously close to choking on the rope around his neck that let his feet only barely touch the floor.

“Ah,” said Lucius, “He is pretty, isn’t he?”

“Erm, I think she’s a bit bothered at how we treat him.”

“Then why is she paying more attention to writing about him than about us.”

Snape sneered. “You know how it is with stories like this; some people just can’t help themselves.”

“Well, that doesn’t mean we can’t carry on on our own, does it?” Lucius said with a leer, reaching to take Severus’s now flaccid cock in his hand and setting to work on reviving it.”

“Mmm, of course,” said Severus.

gaeta — Sat, 18 Jun 2005 16:15:12 GMT

What is a serial adder? I've been added by one and I saw a bunch of people asking to be removed. The person didn't seem to have evil intent. Should I be concerned?

Snape/harry fic, Scene 5

gaeta — Sat, 18 Jun 2005 15:21:31 GMT

Scenes from a Mentorship
SCENE Five of Eight: Examination
Snape/Harry (Gen)
Rating: R, overall for graphic violence,
R, this scene
Warning: This is a pretty grim scene

Link to earlier scenes

~~*~~

When the prisoners were hauled in, naked, hands bound and heads covered with burlap hoods, led by the idiot, Pettigrew, who was nearly giggling in triumph, Snape actually felt a moment of relief before renewed anxiety set in.

An hour earlier, Voldemort had assembled his Death‑Eaters and he'd looked hard upon them as they stood, ranged around the circle of the large dais upon which their Dark Master sat. "One of you is a spy," he had hissed as he began the slow process of examining them each in turn, the gentle but insistent push of his mind caressing the folds of his servants' thoughts, feeling in the dark for knots of tension, impenetrable spots, which might signal an attempt to keep a secret.

Snape's skill at Occlumency notwithstanding, this was an unusually direct investigation on the Dark Lord's part, and Snape, of course, had much to hide. He was expert at deceptive calm and had a great ability to project memories in which reality co‑mingled with invention, but he couldn't be sure what Voldemort suspected, what he might actually know, for experienced in Legelimency though he was, he didn't dare any intrusion into the Master's thoughts, least of all when he was in so dangerous a mood. But if he showed a doctored version of reality, he might at any time, be walking into a trap. And the Dark Lord clearly knew something.

The obnoxiously loud entrance of Pettigrew, announcing he had a great prize to bestow upon his Master distracted Voldemort before Snape's turn came, but the reflexive relief he felt was fleeting; he knew that the a stabbing probe might come any time, even when Voldemort's attention appeared to be somewhere else.

But the greater cause for Snape's anxiety was the prisoners themselves. Judging by Pettigrew's brazen interruption of the Dark Lord without even waiting to be acknowledged , these were not some pair of innocent Mudbloods to be tortured for the amusement of the assembled Death‑Eaters or pureblood sympathizers, to be killed, mutilated and returned to their families as a warning.

They were both male, one much smaller than the other. Snape thought the taller one might well be a member of the Order, but the other .... He appeared to be young ‑ the hair on his legs and at his groin, light, almost wispy, his legs muscular, but knobby‑kneed and coltish, not the ....

With sudden horror, Snape knew that it was Potter.

There was no time to wonder how the boy had managed to get himself caught when he was supposed to be safely within the confines of Hogwarts Castle. Who was he with? That's what Snape needed to know. Was it indeed someone from the Order, who would have the skill to get the boy out of here somehow? Someone whose location could be traced, leading to a timely rescue? Or was it, as seemed equally likely, one of those useless Weasleys? They were just the sort to remove Potter from safety and lead him unwittingly, straight into danger.

Snape risked a quick probe of the taller man, who turned toward Snape, so innocuously as to be unnoticed by anyone who wasn't paying attention, and Snape had a flash of the man's thoughts, brief but strong: Protect Harry. Protect the Order. He withdrew quickly.

Lupin. The werewolf's quiet firmness was unmistakable.

Protect the Order, meaning "don't give away your cover." It was an order superceded only by the one to protect the Boy Who Lived. It meant that Lupin himself was expendable.

The situation could not have been much worse in Snape's view. Had Lupin been taken alone, he would likely have looked for an opportunity to fight or to escape, but with Potter there, Snape knew that instead Lupin would attempt to prolong things, distracting the Dark Lord's attention away from Harry and onto himself for as long as possible in hopes of a rescue. He would expect no intervention from Snape unless the boy were in imminent danger.

Snape was quite sure that Lupin could endure a great deal without succumbing, and Snape would obey the implicit order in Lupin's words, though it was not as if he required a reminder of his duty from the werewolf. He was also aware, however, that Lupin's value to the Order was as great as his own, and if he allowed harm to come to him, few in the Order would respect Snape for his obedience.

Worse still, one of those least likely to understand was Potter himself. Snape had drilled into him the necessity of restraint, but the boy had failed in far lesser tests than this.

He was considering the wisdom of a quick scan of the boy's mind when he was distracted by the uproar at the revelation of the prisoners' identities.

As soon as his head was uncovered, Lupin turned away from Snape and faced the Dark Lord himself. He was not fool enough to place his attention anywhere else. But if Voldemort had not noticed anything amiss, Potter had, for his gaze had followed Remus's from Snape to Voldemort, and his eyes glanced back occasionally as if he meant to be sure it was really Snape.

Snape hazarded a hasty look into the boy's thoughts, but all that was there at the moment was overwhelming anger colored with shame at his public nudity. How typically adolescent!

"It is good to have Mr. Potter once again as our guest," the Dark Lord was saying as Snape withdrew from the boy's mind. Voldemort appeared not to have given any thought to what might be going on inside the boy's head himself or to be concerned that someone else might.

"And how kind of you to bring another of your friends. Too bad he won't be staying." He lifted his wand ‑‑

"No, my Lord!" came Pettigrew's sudden cry.

Instantly, Voldemort turned and cast "Crucio" upon Pettigrew for daring to interrupt him.

The pathetic creature writhed pitifully, and when it was over, he fell to the ground, cowering at his master's feet and exclaiming profusely how sorry he was, that he didn't mean to insult his Lord, but this wasn't just any prisoner to be dispatched without a thought; he was highly placed, very close to Dumbledore himself, and a longtime enemy of his master's.

"He was a friend of James and Lily Potter," Pettigrew offered. Then bowing repeatedly, he slowly drew away from the feet of his Master.

"Is that so?" drawled the Dark Lord, with a flick of his wand, freezing Pettigrew where he was.

"Then he must be your friend as well, eh Wormtail? You used to be quite a friend of the Potters yourself I believe."

"That was when I was a young and foolish boy, Master," Pettigrew simpered. "I have proved my loyalty to you on that score, haven't I, Master? And I assure you, there is no love lost between me and Remus Lupin. It's not for his sake that I ask you to defer. No, no, no. On the contrary. He should be forced to submit to your will. He may be useful to you. He is one of Dumbledore's captains, I'm sure of it."

Through their exchange, Lupin stood silent, his habitual mild expression firmly in place. Potter looked mutinous, but he followed Lupin's lead for the moment and stayed silent.

As the Dark Lord turned his attention from Pettigrew toward Lupin, Snape decided to try a somewhat deeper probe of the boy, not only to learn the boy's state of mind but also to assure him that Snape wasn't trying to hide from either him or Lupin.

He saw Potter hidden in a side‑corridor as Lupin and Professor Dumbledore emerged from the headmaster's office, too deep in conversation to note that they were being watched. "If there is a chance Peter Pettigrew is involved," the headmaster said inclining his head toward Lupin, "you should perhaps take some back-up. He is not to be trusted, my friend."

"I can handle Wormtail," Lupin assured him. "If he means to set a trap for me, I'd rather be on my own in any case."

"As you wish," Dumbledore did not object further, but the concerned expression did not leave his face as he watched Lupin go.

Wrapped in that infernal invisibility cloak, Potter waited until Professor Dumbledore had retreated to his office and then hurried to follow Lupin, who crossed the grounds at great speed until he reached the Apparition point and disappeared.

Snape found himself willing the boy to be left behind even though he knew that wasn't what had happened. If they made it out of here alive, he would flay him for being enticed by someone as inconsequential as Peter Pettigrew to abandon his promise to Snape that he'd stay out of trouble....He'd almost be willing to watch the Dark Lord do it for him at this point. It'd serve the boy right.

Still, when he saw Potter leap to catch Lupin's coordinates and Apparate after him, Snape couldn't help being a bit impressed. It was only an experienced wizard who could manage such a precise exercise.

Then he saw Lupin discover Harry and rebuke him for following him, but that moment of distraction on Lupin's part was a moment too much, as the pair were jumped from behind and disarmed before Lupin could Apparate them away again.

Finally, he saw Lupin and Potter in an outer chamber of the building they were now in, huddled in a heap on the floor as their captors stripped and hooded them. As they were dragged up and led into the Dark Lord's presence, Lupin inclined his head toward Potter at the last minute and hissed, "Do nothing foolish. Remember what you have been taught." for which he received a severe punch to the gut from one of Pettigrew's henchmen.

Potter gave no outward indication that he was aware someone had entered his mind, and Snape was satisfied that Lupin had done his best and that there was at least a chance Potter, would not make the situation any worse than it already was ‑ granted it was already a disaster. He again withdrew from Potter's mind.

"And what does this 'captain' know?" Voldemort was addressing Lupin, his voice smooth as leather.

"Nothing I am at liberty to tell you," Lupin answered, his eyes returning the Dark Lord's gaze steadily. "I have been well-secured against interrogation, though there is much you might learn of me if you care to be taught."

"You dare to mock me?" said the Dark Lord, pointing his wand directly at Lupin's head. Lupin didn't even flinch. "It's not your teaching I require, but information, and if you do not wish to give it willingly, I will be happy to force you.

Even having expected Lupin to command the Dark Lord's attention, Snape was rather shocked by the werewolf's brash approach. From a tactical perspective, it might make sense to taunt his captor with his refusal to succumb to interrogation, but practically speaking, it only meant that Lupin would be subjected to Voldemort's retribution all the sooner.

"Give him a dose of Cruciatus" the Dark Lord ordered Pettigrew, "under restraints," he added.

Snape forced himself not to avert his eyes as two of Pettigrew's henchmen clapped manacles on Lupin's wrists and ankles, then stretched him, distending his limbs so that when the curse was cast the convulsion of every muscle was visible. Being under the Cruciatus curse while restrained in this way, Snape knew from experience, made the experience even more horrific.

"So," the Dark Lord said, after he had waved Pettigrew off, "do you feel greater 'liberty' to speak to me now?"

"I can tell you nothing, I'm afraid," Lupin said, his voice breathless with pain, but still mildly defiant. "You will find, I fear that neither coercion by threats or use of force will alter that."

"You ought to fear it," Voldemort retorted. And this time he administered the Cruciatus curse himself.

"Perhaps Mr. Lupin would enjoy a little Veritaserum," offered a sneering voice from the assembled circle when Voldemort released Lupin a second time.

"If you wish," Lupin somehow managed to still sound taunting even though his voice was little more than a hoarse whisper. "But you will only be wasting a precious potion. I am rather immune to the stuff. Werewolf, you know."

Snape couldn't guess what Lupin was playing at. He ought to be doing all he could to prolong his own questioning and protect Potter, and in that regard, Veritaserum was ideal.

Lupin, like all members of the Order, routinely took a counter‑agent to Veritaserum before going on missions. He wouldn't risk revealing anything but a few inconsequential if potentially embarrassing personal details. True, the chemicals of the two potions, once intermingled, produced a most unpleasant sensation, but surely one no worse than any other form of "persuasion" the Dark Lord might employ and a good deal better than some.

"No matter," the Dark Lord said, his voice like rough velvet. "I find Veritaserum quite tiresome. All those foolish confessions of base appetites and love lost, but you didn't tell me, Peter, that your friend was a werewolf."

"Yes, Master, a werewolf, but no friend of mine." Pettigtrew answered. "Oh he used to pretend to be my friend, but he turned on me if it pleased James Potter. I know how they all laughed at me behind my back. Please, Master, let me punish him ... for his impudence to you.

"Haven't you taken enough revenge on your friends, Peter?" Remus asked suddenly.

"You got James and Lily killed. You destroyed Sirius Black's life. And you have twisted me through loss and despair and misery for years. Isn't that enough for you? Must you betray everything for this ... this monster?"

"Crucio!" Voldemort pronounced, this time releasing Lupin's bonds. Lupin fell to the ground beside Pettigrew in a shuddering heap. Only after several minutes did the Dark Lord end the spell and hiss over the prone man,"Such disrespect for my servant will not be permitted." he pronounced. "It's a pity you think to defy me, for I'm sure you could speak freely if you wished, Albus Dumbledore's security measures aside. And of course, I shall not deny your old friend here the pleasure of making you suffer for your defiance. Perhaps he can persuade you after all, and if not, no matter – your punishment alone shall be a lesson to anyone else who would defy me"

The Dark Lord looked pointedly once around the room as his Death-Eaters made obsequious gestures of denial. Then he waved a hand, indicating that Pettigrew should get Lupin to his feet, which the rat did with obliging roughness, but Lupin only reached out to touch Pettigrew's cheek. "Peter," he said, "you're such a disappointment."

Lupin appeared to be relying on Pettigrew to prolong the scene for him, and it seemed to be working quite well. Pettigrew drew his wand and said.. "And you, Moony," he mocked "are going to be even more disappointed soon. But I think I'll enjoy it much more if you have to keep your mouth shut. Silencio , he cried. Then he turned to Voldemort for a sign.

"Very well, Wormtail," Voldemort said, "You may have your entertainment ... Just make sure it is entertaining to the rest of us. You are not noted for your imagination."

A snicker passed among the other Death‑Eaters, but Pettigrew did not seem to notice. He smiled stupidly at the invitation. "Oh, thank you Master. I will do my best to please you.

With that he snapped his fingers to his henchmen, one of whom pulled Potter off to the side, while two others each took hold of one of Lupin's arms and pulled in opposite directions until Lupin stumbled one way and then the other, trying to stay on his feet. Laughing Pettigrew tapped each of Lupin's wrists, and the manacles Voldemort had banished earlier clamped around them again leaving his ankles free this time, Then the henchmen attached the manacles to chains suspended from a pole hanging from the ceiling high above.

When Lupin had been positioned to Pettigrew's satisfaction: arms spread wide, wrists head‑high, Pettigrew sent one of the henchmen out, soon to return carrying a heavy metal‑tipped, leather strap. Pettigrew first showed it to the Dark Lord, who nodded approval, then he displayed it for Lupin, caressing the tip between his own fingers.

"Yes, it's silver, Moony," he said trailing it across Lupin's chest, which caused Lupin to hiss with pain.

"Ahh, " murmured Voldemort. "You did mention that he was a werewolf, didn't you? Well done, Wormtail."

Potter, still closely guarded, clenched his fists and looked daggers at Snape, who did his best to ignore the boy.
He would have preferred to ignore the scene being played out before him, but, unfortunately, it required his full attention.

"In that case," the Dark Lord went on, "let me add an extra touch to that whip for you. He took it as Pettigrew offered it willingly and stroked its length with one skeletal hand. As he did so sharp silver studs appeared at intervals, piercingly bright in the candlelight. He handed it back to Pettigrew who took it bowing his gratitude to his Lord's thoughtful contribution.

Lupin bore pain of the silver studs without crying out, but soon his back was covered with red welts and cuts and white‑hot burn marks, and the room smelled of burned flesh.

"Enough!" Voldemort commanded after a while. "This grows dull, Wormtail. The werewolf barely seems to feel it. Perhaps you should use a more intimate approach."

Pettigrew looked bewildered. "I don't ... what do you mean, my Lord?"

"You are dull as a rock, Peter," Voldemort sneered. "Use your hand, fool. Give it a personal touch."

"Finite Incantatem," he added. "I believe we ought to hear this."

Light dawned in Pettigrew's eyes. "Ah, yes, Master. I understand. As you please. He moved to stand close behind Lupin and reached around him, curling the fingers of his left hand ‑ the silver one ‑ around Lupin's limpid cock ... and squeezed.

That got a scream out of Lupin, and the assembled Death‑Eaters laughed though some of them stiffened beneath their robes. Snape thought he might vomit.

He turned an eye toward Potter, who had taken a step forward from his guard. His eyes were bulging and he was shaking with barely suppressed rage.

Don't be a fool, Snape prayed silently. And then Let Lupin hold out. Everything was moving too fast. There had so far been no sign of rescue, and the torture had gotten nasty too quickly for Snape's comfort. He knew what was coming and he didn't honestly know how Lupin would hold up.

There was another scream as Pettigrew moved from Lupin's penis to his balls, and then a bone chilling shriek when he suddenly thrust a finger up his anus.

This continued for several long seconds as Pettigrew pandered to his Master's pleasure, shoving more fingers roughly up Lupin's arsehole and making exaggerated thrusting motions.

Lupin was shrieking his throat raw, as if he were being burned up on the inside. Apart from the boorish jeers of Pettigrew and his henchmen, everyone else had grown uncomfortably silent.

There was a sudden commotion outside, and Snape's heart leapt as the doors burst open again and several figures came through them. For a moment everything stopped.

"My Lord, I have brought you the promised new recruits." Snape saw with dismay that it was no rescue as he had allowed himself to hope, but Lucius Malfoy, attended by two servants and a group of young men, in black robes, but unmasked. Heart falling, Snape recognized several Hogwarts students among them.

"Excellent, Lucius," drawled the Dark Lord. "We shall have the initiation presently, but first these young ones may witness their new Lord's power and His wrath. Pettigrew," he turned back to his servant, who had stopped his antics but still had one hand on Lupin's arse..

"It is time!" Voldemort said loudly over Lupin's cries. "I have had enough. Take care of him."

"But my Lord, I ..."

"Do it. Now!" the Dark Lord commanded.

Time slowed.

Pettigrew looked anxiously at Voldemort. Lupin swivelled his attention from Pettigrew to Potter and then to Snape giving an imperceptible shake of the head before turning back to Pettigrew.

Snape stood riveted, staring at Pettigrew, who slowly raised his wand, slowly pointed it at Lupin, and slowly opened his mouth and spoke.

"Avada kedavra"

Still chained, Lupin shuddered. Then he sagged and was still. The room resounded with silence.

"Goddamn you! You fucker!"

Before anyone could stop him, Potter had rushed over to Lupin and with nothing but a flash of his eyes, released his bonds. Pettigrew stepped back in surprise, but the boy turned on him in fury, raising his hands above his head.

"You're not even a rat," he cried. "You're a fucking worm. You're nothing but a fucking worm!"

As those assembled watched, astonished, Pettigrew vanished and in his place was a fat brown earth worm lying at Potter's feet. Potter lifted one bare foot and brought it down on the squirming creature, twisting it with his heel into the ground, squashing the life out of Peter Pettigrew.

Then Potter turned toward Snape, his eyes blazing.

"You fucker, Snape," he cried, and even as he cringed, Snape felt time slow again.

"You made me trust you. But you lied. You let Sirius die and now Remus. You're a traitor, a fucking traitor."

Snape felt himself moving forward as if in a dream and as he went he felt the angry red glare of Voldemort's dawning awareness turn upon him. Even as the energy gathered to send a malevolent spell in his direction, Snape thrust out his wand, grip‑end forward and shoved it into Potter's hand, muttering the words that left nothing but a blinding light where they had been standing.

~~*~~

End Part 5