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Dark Gods In The Blood	By : Hayseed Category: Harry Potter > General > General Views: 3951 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 27
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A/N: Two
things. First of all, I was looking at
my posting timeline and decided I�d rather put up the last chapter on Sunday
than Monday (blasted real life interfering ...), so I�m actually breaking my
own rule and doing a double posting today (April Fools�). Because I�m just that nice. Chapter 28 will be up tomorrow morning as
usual, then.

And secondly, there appears to have been a bit of confusion
on the last two chapters, so allow me to clarify things a bit. Chapters 25 and 26 were more or less
concurrent as far as the timeline is concerned -- Severus goes about his day in
the nuthouse while Hermione is investigating the scene and dragging Ron out
of hiding. So no one is looking for
Severus in Chapter 26 for the simple fact that he hasn�t left yet.

This chapter, then, is the next day. Thanks for reading!

Summary: A wandering
student comes home, a broken man pays his penance, and a gruesome murder is
both more and less than it seems. Some
paths to self-discovery have more twists and turns than others.

Rating: R, for
intermittent dark themes, violence, and language

Disclaimer: Nothing
you read here (save the plot and bits of the text itself) belongs to me. Harry Potter and his cronies are the
property of JK Rowling and Warner Bros. (and someone else, probably, but not
me). All chapteadieadings are properly
credited to their sources.

Dark Gods in the Blood

by: Hayseed (hayseed_42@hotmail.com)

Chapter Twenty-Seven

I
understand better the meaning of his stare, that could not

see the flame of the candle, but was wide
enough to embrace

the whole
universe, piercing enough to penetrate all the

hearts that
beat in the darkness. He had summed up
-- he
ll>
had
judged. �The horror!�

-- Joseph Conrad,
Heart of Darkness

Severus almost felt
guilty as he crouched in the bushes, squinting off into the distance, trying to
determine whether or not the woman who�d been out in her backyard two hours ago
hanging wet laundry would be back any time soon.

It barely mattered,
though. His clearly hospital-issue
scrubs were doubly cursed, being both incredibly incriminating and not nearly
enough clothing for the chilly weatho:p>o:p>

He�d spent the night
mostly walking, keeping as far away from the roads as he dared. The absolute thrill of freedom had overridden his discomfort, but as the night
waned and day broke, Severus realized hs ins infernally cold and wet and
hungry.

The hunger he could do
little about until he found Granger -- he had no money and he wasn�t about to
go begging. But cold and wet he could
fix.

And that was why he�d
spent the better part of the morning hiding out in what was looking more and
more like a Muggle neighborhood, watching a woman do her laundry and trying to find
some suitable clothing.

Unable to bear it any
longer, Severus broke cover and dashed into the yard, snatching a pair of
trousers and a long-sleeved shirt made of some light, fleecy sort of material
he�d never seen before. He paused long
enough to give a pair of boxer shorts hanging on the line a longing look but
decided in the end that he didn�t think he could bear the idea of wearing
underclothing that had once belonged to someone else. This was as much as he dared to take from a single clothesline
anyway -- Severus ran as fast as he could, back into a more secluded, woodsy
area.

He tossed the scrub
bottoms away with relish as he changed his clothes, although the denim that the
Muggle dungarees were made from was rather rough as he pulled the trousers over
his legs and up his hips. But they fit
very loosely, so he didn�t give it much thought.

On an impulse, he saved
the shirt he�d been wearing, though, choosing to simply put the fleecy shirt on
over his scrub top. While his trousers
had gotten quite mud covered through the night of wandering, his shirt had
remained fairly clean and Severus figured that he could use the extra layer of
warmth.

But his toes were still
suspiciously numb. Every now and again,
through the night, he would stop to examine his feet closely -- he was unsure
how cold he had to get before frostbite set in, although he was beginning to
suspect it was not nearly cold enough yet, only being November and all.

A few backyards away from
the one he�d just liberated an outfit from, Severus spied a muddied pair of
boots lying haphazardly on the patio.
He watched the windows for a good half-an-hour, eventually deciding that
the house was unoccupied. Two minutes
and a fast dash later, he was shoving his feet into slightly-too-large boots
and lacing them tightly about his ankles.
His toes tingled as warmth slowly returned.

Fairly certain that he
now more closely resembled a relatively harmless eccentric wanderer than an
escaped mental patient, Severus began walking down the road itself, keeping his
expression neutral as he headed further into town. He needed directions.

Granger had mentioned
that the latest murder -- what had the victims� name been? -- had been
somewhere in Yorkshire, although she hadn�t specified the exact name of the
town. But Severus figured that, with
one of the victims being a Muggle, news would have spread a bit. After all, it wasn�t every day that a young
man and his wife were murdered in their own home. There would have been some mention of it in the Muggle papers, at
the very least.

He saw a pub a few
hundred meters away, slightly dingy and worn looking, and decided that it would
be as good a place to start as any. He
quickened his pace.

Bridell, he thought
suddenly. That was what Granger had said their name was. Bll

Repeating it over and
over in his mind, holding on to it like a lifeline as he mentally rehearsed
what he would say, Severus pushed open the pub door and stepped inside,
welcoming the rush of warm air that hit his face.

The barman quirked an
eyebrow at his admittedly probably haggard appearance. �Can I help you, mate?� he asked, a note of
suspicion in his carefully cheerful voice.

Severus coughed slightly
and tried to look apologetic. �I ...
erm, yes. I confess I�m rather
lost. I Portke -- uh, I drove down here
to meet a friend. We�re consulting on a
murder case, you see. The Bridell case. And I�m afraid that I misplaced the
address. Do you ...?�

He noticed that several
heads in the bar whirled around to stare at him when he said Bridell. One in
particular, belonging to an unkempt man with scraggly, long hair wearing a
gaudy plaid shirt, caught his attention.

�Bridell?� the barkeep
repeated slowly. �Sounds kinda
familiar. Oi, James, didn�t your cousin
Eleanor marry a fellow named Bridell all those years back?�

The man in plaid nodded,
still shooting Severus a wary look.
�She did. Mum got a call
yesterday -- both she and her husband were found dead. Murdered, like. You say you�re here to investigate?� he asked Severus
skeptically. �You don�t look much like
a policeman to me.�

�Oh, I�m not,� he replied
smoothly, having already anticipated this question. �A private consultant, more like. My friend and I were called in to take a look at the case. But as I�ve said, I�ve forgotten just where
--�

James, plaid-clad cousin
to the late Eleanor Bridell, cut him off with a laugh. �You�re a good bit off the mark, mate. Eleanor and her husband lived down in
Sheffield. That�s a good sixty
kilometers southwest of here, at least.�

Severus� heart faltered
at the prospect of walking sixty kilometers.
Maybe he could take a Portkey -- he knew there was an official site not
too far away from York. But he smiled
thinly anyway. �Thank you very much,�
he told a still dubious James before turning to the barkeep yet again. �And if you wouldn�t mind, I�d very much
like to wash up. Where are ...?�

�Down that hallway, next
to the back exit,� he said briskly, wiping a mug off with a white rag.

Nodding in gratitude,
Severus walked down the hallway to the men�s lavatory, eager to wash off the
grime from his night wanderings.

As he looked at his
reflection in the mirror, he realized he looked far better than he had a right
to. His hair looked as if it hadn�t seen
a comb in a week at least, and he had a smudge of dirt on his left cheek, but
otherwise Severus looked fairly respectable.
He ran the water hot, lathering up his grubby hands with something very
like elation.

He was so intent on his
hands, in fact, that he didn�t see the man sneaking up behind him until it was
too late. One flash of an enormous
reflection in the mirror, and Severus felt something heavy slam into the back
of his head, right before everything went black.

--
-- -- -- --

As Severus swam toward
consciousness, his only thought was that somehow the orderlies from Perkins had
caught up with him. They�d found him
and taken him back and that was why he couldn�t move his arms or legs -- he was
Bound to his bed.

He groaned and gave his
restraints a tug, feeling rope rasp roughly against his bare wrists and
ankles. Possibly not the hospital,
then.

�Ah ...� an amused voice
said. �You�re awake, then.�

His eyes shot open --
that didn�t sound like any orderly he recognized. This was definitely not
the hospital.

A huge bear of a man
smiled serenely down on him -- he had to be six-foot-five if he was an
inch. Severus felt very small in his
presence. Very small and very fragile.

�I�therther sorry about having
to hit you back in the bar there,� the man continued, still sounding as if he
was inwardly laughing at some joke that Severus didn�t understand. �But I didn�t think I could convince you to
come along with me voluntarily.� He
pushed a long strand of blond hair that had escaped his ponytail out of his
eyes.

Severus stared up at his
captor in horrified fascination. There
was ... something glinting out of his
light eyes. Something off-kilter
somehow. Something that made Severus�
gut clench. �Who�re ...?� he asked
faintly, feeling his breath hitch in his throat.

Again, the man smiled --
only this time, it had a decidedly sinister cast, his teeth flashing in the
artificial light of the room. Severus
wondered where they were. �My name is
Stan,� he said placidly. �And you are
...?�

�Where am I?� he asked,
throat dry at the thought of being held prisoner by this too-calm man.

The man -- Stan -- sighed
and Severus detected a hint of impatience.
�My flat,� he answered after a slight pause. �I�ve only had it for a few months, so I�m afraid it�s still
rather impersonal looking. You�ll
forgive me if I don�t offer you the grand tour.�

�Why did you bring me
here?� The feeling of wrongness only increased as Stan spoke.

�All in good time, my new
friend,� Stan chuckled. �All in good
time. First, I have a few questions I
need you to answer.�

Some of Severus� fear was
slowly turning to confusion. �Will you
untie me?� he asked, trying to keep his voice even.

�Later,� Stan said
firmly.

His mind whirled. �I won�t answer your questions unless you
untie me first,� he argued.

�You will answer my questions,� countered Stan in that same
mild voice. �Or I�ll have to hurt
you. And don�t think for a moment that
I won�t.�

Severus did not speak, anxiety
rising again.

�Right,� Stan said,
sitting down in a chair beside the bed Severus was tied to. �First question. You said in the bar that you were consulting on the Bridell
murder. Tell me, my new friend, do you
work with Scotland Yard?�

Deciding that honesty
would not get him into any worse trouble than he was already in, he spoke as
freely as he dared to this smiling man with the disconcerting eyes. �No.
I�m not affiliated with any Mug -- with any official agency.�

Stan�s smile now had a
shark-like quality to it. �That word,
the one that you cut off. It wouldn�t
happen to be Muggle, would it?�

Inwardly, he swore,
keeping silent and daring his captor with his eyes to follow through on his
threat.

�My, my,� he chuckled. �Have I caught myself an Auror?�

�No!� Severus protested
quickly, wondering how this ... this Muggle knew the word. �I�m no Auror.�

�Then tell me,� Stan
said, voice dripping kindness like honey.
�Tell me, my new friend, why on Earth are you here in Yorkshire asking
about a dead wizard and his dead wife?
Interest, perhaps?�

Wizard, he heard echo
through his head.

This Stan was no Muggle.

And it fell into
place.

Severus� eyes
widened. �You!� he cried, struggling
against his bonds anew. �You�re him!�

The smile was gone. �I�m who?� Stan asked, voice chilling.

�You killed them,� he
breathed. �Harry Potter, Alistair
Bones, Marcus Desmond, the Bridells.
You�re the killer!�

Stan was on him in an
instant, hovering so closely Severus could smell his acrid breath. Something sharp poked into his Adam�s
apple. �I wish you hadn�t said that, my
friend,� he said sadly, eyes still flat and disconcerting. �Although you may be of some use yet.�

�Use?� Severus repeated,
resisting the urge to swallow against the sharp edge jabbing into his throat
with all his might.

�You are a wizard, aren�t
you?� Stan asked. �You must be,� he
answered himself. �The only ones to get
into the Muggle papers were the Bridells.
So you must be. Tell me!� The point prodding his throat dug in more
deeply.

He did not speak, eyes
wide with absolute terror. Even
Voldemort, crazed with power and Dark magic, had never scared him to this
point.

�I will kill you either
way,� Stan said matter-of-factly.

Severus tried to draw
away, tried to press bodybody down into the hard mattress as far as he
could. There was a brief flash of pain
in his throat and he knew that Stan�s knife had pierced the skin.

The smile was back, feral
and hungry. �So be it.�

He bit back a scream as
the knife dug into his throat yet again, dragging downward in an agonizingly
slow fashion.

He had endured the
Cruciatus curse at the hands of Voldemort himself. He had pulled ten men out of a burning house as his own robes
charred and smoldered about his shoulders.

He would not scream.

He did not want to die
this way, he realized as silent tears ran down his cheeks.

The knife continued,
pulling at his skin gradually. Severus
felt the hot blood running down his chest and tried to hold on to
consciousness.

�You aren�t like the
otherStanStan muttered as he went about his work. �But you�ll do fine, I think.
In fact --�

The knife came to an
abrupt halt as a loud knocking sound echoed through the room. Severus and Stan stared at each other,
caught in a bizarre tableau.

Swiftly, not speaking,
Stan stood and walked out of the room, carefully sitting his knife on the
bureau beside the doorway.an>

Severus felt
unconsciousness looming on the edges of his vision, the blackness a welcome
void, free of the numbing fire blossoming in his chest.

Blood pooled in the
hollow of his throat as he strained to stay away, to listen to the conversation
he heard in the other room.

A door opened. �Yes?� Stan asked cautiously.

�Hallo?� a female asked
hesitantly. �Stan Walker?�

�Good afternoon.� Pleasant, calm, as if he hadn�t just been in
his bedroom, sticking a knife into someone.
�What can I do for you?�

�I got your name from a
friend,� she replied. �Fran�oise
Potter. You did some woodwork for her
about a year ago?�

�Potter ...� he repeated
thoughtfully. �The name is
familiar. I seem to recall ...�

�A particularly lovely
chair rail,� the woman prompted. �Hand
carved.� Her voice sounded suspiciously
fami to to Severus.

�Ah, yes,� Stan
said. �I remember now. One of my better efforts.�

�And you also did some
work for several of my other friends.
Alisander Weaver, Marcus Desmond, Romulus Cooke.�

His voice waspicspicious
now. �Yes.�

�I wanted to speak with
you about it.� Severus did know that voice.
�It�s strange, you see, but they�re all --�

Stan sounded distinctly
nervous as he interrupted the woman.
�Won�t you please come in to discuss this, Ms --?�

�Granger,� she supplied.

Granger! Severus heard the door close and several
footsteps. His breathing, already
labored, threatened to stop entirely.

�Would you like some tea,
Ms. Granger?� Stan asked politely amidst the small scuffling noises. Severus bit back hysterical laughter -- tea,
indeed.

The footsteps
ceased. �Oh, no, thank you,� she said,
sounding almost startled. �I won�t take
up much of your time.�

He tried to make a
sound. A shout, a cough, anything to alert Granger as to his presence.

And her danger.

�Tell me, Mr. Walker,�
she continued, �have you been in contact with the Potters lately? Within the last, oh, I don�t know, four
months or so?�

Severus could hear the
smile in his voice. �Now that I think
about it, I was in their area a couple of months back,� Stan said in an
innocent tone that raised hairs on the back of Severus� neck. �I like to make follow-up calls, to make
sure my work has been satisfactory.�

There were more
footsteps. He wondered who was
standing.

�I have a list of names
here,� Granger said, a crumpling papery sort of sound in Severus� ears
now. �If you wouldn�t mind, I�d like to
...�

�Of course, Ms. Granger,�
Stan was saying, footsteps growing louder.
He must be the one walking
about. �I�ll fetch my records from the
back so that we can go over everything properly.�

A hand reached into the
room and Severus watched it wrap around the knife.

He tensed, gasping. It was now or never.

�Hermione!� he managed to shout, his ravaged throat protesting
the movement strenuously.

�Severus?� he heard her
ask dimly.

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Dark Gods In The Blood