Death Whispers

Chapter Twelve - This was the way the world ends, not with a bang but with a whimper.

Aushou, 21st July 1980

The sun fell unsullied onto Severus' back. He followed the road that lay gently over the serene countryside. The day was clear and tranquil, the hills covered with friendly red poppies, smelling fresh and sweet. He walked hand in hand with his lover and he had the unfamiliar feeling of laughter in his chest and his face fell in a lopsided happy grin. A warm blissful shiver traveled up his arm and into his heart.

"I've seen it," she whispered softly, turning to look at him her blue eyes glittering.

It was another of his dreams and she had returned. Yet, this one was different - it did not haunt him like the others. She wasn't begging, crying, with eyes full of pity or remorse for a lost soul. She was laughing, and what was more surreal he was laughing too.

The two walked up to a small russet cottage. It was gentle and ivy hugged it's perimeter. Soothing smells of baking wafted out of the open window. The white lace curtains waved in the wind. Severus walked up and pushed the gate open.

As he walked the garden path he heard the sounds of crunching gravel beneath his feet. He felt a sudden chill and looked up to watch the sky become darker as it lost a battle with clouds overhead.

He turned and looked for Lallie. She had disappeared. An ominous feeling fell into his stomach and each step toward the cottage was cautious and uncertain. The sounds of the crunching grew louder and the sky darker and hostile. The trees leaned in reaching for him with their thin skeletal fingers with each step as he came closer to the porch.

Upon the porch he stood in silence as he looked at the door which was ajar.

"Lallie," he whispered uncertainly. His cry echoed with a sense of foreboding.

"It's not abstract anymore," her voice whispered although she was nowhere to be seen. "Evil - it's real, it's tangible."

He spun around searching for her and drifted closer to the door. Hesitating he drew a deep breath before pushing his arm to open the door and take a small step inside.

The scene was frightening. He could see a family of four - lying dead on the ground. Seemingly unmarked they lay where they fell when the curse was uttered. He knew it was pointless but he went to check if they were truly dead.

The first person he reached was the daughter, her arms wrapped protectively around a pink doll, in death her grip had tightened. The mother, still wearing her apron, looked shocked and frightened. Her husband lay beside her. He looked strong and gentle at the same time. He was broad and yet tears still glistered on his weathered face yet to dry. His son was next to him, the youngest of them all, he contradictory looked peaceful.

"He's so small," Severus heard her whisper.

"Where are you?" he asked looking around the open cottage.

"Love always wins," he heard again, "True love fears nothing, hate is based on fear."

"Stop it!" he demanded falling to the floor.

"What are you looking for?"

"For you to shut up!" Severus screamed.

For a moment there was silence. Then there was screaming, loud and violent, like a flashback, the father, the children, the mother, were screaming for their lives. This time Severus was screaming along with them.

********

The group had gathered atop a cliff. It was the same cliff where Severus had begun his years as a Death Eater. The group had swelled in numbers despite Ministry efforts and resistance.

Standing in front of the Dark Lord Severus watched him talk with passion about Muggle fools. About hatred, a hated, a hate, one that Severus recognised. He hung his head in shame. This hate, Lallie had said would lose. And, now Severus could see, the hatred had only spread, not changed, not wavered, not defeated in the years of his loyal service. His thoughts were distracted by memories of her; he cursed himself for it.

He couldn't concentrate this time all the words sounded foreign to him. Voldemort's preaches, the wind, the waves, all became one. His mind confused and nervous he waited patiently for the meeting to cease. He had tried to escape the meeting as soon as it was over yet his voice was called.

"Severus," Voldemort beckoned, as others left the meeting, "I hear that you have made new advances with your potion for ultimate survival," and his eyes glittered hungrily, "are you making good use of the facilities I have provided for you?"

"Yes my Lord," Severus answered stepping up in front of the Lord. Severus could feel the mans familiar power radiate off him and it made his eyes wide. In anticipation and for the first time since his induction on this very hilltop - fear.

"Blair tells me that you have been arguing over a Lovegood. He tells me that you had told him he was not to make meat of women in your camp."

He must have been taking notes, Severus thought bitterly, because that's exactly what I said.

"There is potential in her and he thinks only of her 'sexual' benefits," Severus retorted.

Voldemort considered Severus closely for a minute. Breathing his scent in deep, trying to find deceit or betrayal. Words echoed in his head, they were his masters, your camp Severus? Where's your sense of fun, Severus? Severus looked up with confusion as he felt the red eyes crawl over his soul looking for weakness. Severus stood straighter in an effort to protect himself.

Apparently satisfied Voldemort asked, "You think we should use her?"

"Isn't that why we got her in the first place," Severus asked, "she is fond of me after I offered the prisoners a kindness of proper meals and clothes. A kindness we benefited from - needing capable subjects for experiments." He assured his master.

Voldemort was gracious to his followers. "By all means then, Severus, she is yours," he said, like he was offering a reward.

And while Severus knew he should be thankful. He was hollow, still lost, still unrewarded, not like before.

Seizing him up Voldemort continued with warning, "Make no mistake, you're to use this gift to MY advantage." He paused to wave his hand dismissivly, "Blair is proving himself a danger but he is to receive his rewards, give him a choice of the other women."

Severus nodded thoughts flying through his head. Voldemort caught his chin and raised it to meet his face. The warm breath fell over Severus.

"Don't disappoint me by holding back your talents," Voldemort nurtured, "don't become like your father."

"Tell me about your father master." He watched his masters eyes contract and breathing stop.

"Crucio!" Voldemort screamed, spit flying on his cheek for disobedience. Severus felt pain beyond pain as his veins thrashed for release. He fell to his knees before his master and fought the curse as hard as he could. But shortly he was thrashing on the ground screaming out in terror.

Voldemort chuckled, "You never fail to disappoint me Severus. We are family, you and I."

Severus smiled weakly as pain still spasmed in his back it was more like a grimace. He was able to breathe deeply to steady himself, "Anything for you my Lord, my Master, my Father."

Voldemort left Severus alone atop a cliff where the winds were whispering for him.

Inside Snape's head there was chaos. It was not a storm - it was a hurricane with wild, wild winds. Sometimes words drifted into consciousness, but mostly it was raw, harsh emotions.

Words, so innocent and powerless as they are, as standing in a dictionary, how potent for good and evil they become in the hands of someone who knows how to use them. He beat his chest angrily, how foolish, how stupid. In one moment, one flash, he saw through the false promises of the manipulator and realized the truth. Do not allow the words of others to control you, for words are merely sound and silence. They are neither truth nor lies, neither good nor evil--unless you permit them to be. He was reminded of his father. How he had become such a disappointment, so beyond redemption.

It was a horrible, life-shattering moment. Snape imagined vaguely that in a movie the hero would have been beyond the horror and the pain, and would set about facing the rest of the plot with grim determination. But this was not a movie, this was his life. He had felt as if his whole life had been taken away from him in one humiliating, abusive day. The terror was unbelievable.

He didn't know when the grief had propelled him to the ground. The grief had taken over him like the pain never would. This was a worse pain, a mental pain, he ached. He looked out over the edge gripping it tightly. He could even feel the desperate wanting; to throw it all away, throw himself off the edge to the waiting waves below.

The black tentacles of despair gave way to a superstitious shudder of fear. He pushed himself slowly back from the edge. His mind tumbling with thoughts of rebuilding his life after going to hell and back. If people had gathered to watch they would have seen him tremble a little on his legs. No one was there to catch him as he fell again to his knees. He was crying. Then he collapsed onto his side and shivered, clutching at his chest, with his legs curled underneath him.

He realised the irony of it all. Snape under Voldemort's control was a damned anonymous plaything of the devil that had demanded all things. Snape now realised that all things already were given to him and then given again. It was Lallie, it was her that had given them back. Returned soul to the rightful owner. Allowed him to see his folly. How he wished she were never born. He wished that she never burned his soul, tainted his hate with hope, with life, with love. He was undeserving and it tasted bitter and metallic in his mouth. He was bleeding, his heart was bleeding and the blood rushed over him so he could no longer see.

Severus woke sweating in the hot sun. He was alone still dressed in thick black Death Eater attire it had absorbed the light and life. He threw his mask and belt over the cliff watching them fall into the hungry waves. He would have followed after them, he wished it so, but he had to return, had to finish this. He was going to save Lallie.