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The Long Road	By : SinisterMe Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Snape/Remus Views: 63607 -:- Recommendations : 3 -:- Currently Reading : 18
Disclaimer: This is a work of fan fiction using characters from the Harry Potter world, which is trademarked by J. K. Rowling. This story is purely for entertainment purposes, no money is being made from it.

Chapter List
- 48
- 49
- 50
**I suppose that when I posted this chapter originally I neglected to mention that it contains graphic material and that the warnings listed for this story are there for a reason. For that you have my apologies. However please consider yourself warned now. **
They arrived at the Ministry with little trouble, getting Remus his lycanthrope badge and finding the designated room in good time. Upon arrival they were surprised to find it already half full of people. Some were recognizable as reporters and photographers and others were wearing Ministry uniforms, the reason for their presence was unclear other to stand and gawk.
“Whatever you see, do your best to give no outward sign of your discomfort,” Severus told the three of them seriously. “Don’t give Lanning the satisfaction of seeing you distressed.”
They nodded morosely.
Remus looked around, wondering which man was the ‘Healer’ who had attempted to prey on his son, which of these men gathered here would have complete power over his master. Somehow, none of them stood out as being anything other than ordinary.
Darien Ackerley was the first person to approach them.
“Good, you brought some support,” he said to Snape. “I’ve been here for over two hours trying to get us out of this, but they want to change some of the terms and it looks like they have the support from within WIBNA to make it happen.”
“What do they want?” Severus asked.
“Well, since the terms require you to be whole once the fourteen days are up, Lanning and his solicitor have requested something rather obscure and more than a little taboo given recent events.”
“I know you’re paid by the hour Darien, but please get on with it,” Severus urged, crossing his arms impatiently.
“They want to - how did they put it? ‘Secure’ a piece of your life force as it is now; when your freedom is returned, that piece will be too. It will replenish you, heal almost any injury in what they claim is record time. It will allow him to get what he wants out of this situation without breaking his signed contact to return you in good condition.”
“You have to be shitting me,” Harry said furiously, “they want to make him into a bloody Horcrux?”
Darien laughed nervously, “That’s what I said. They’re denying its similarity down to the very letter. This spell is deemed Light and has been used by the Ministry in the past. It isn’t permanent, can only be cast on a person one time and will only keep the individual alive until the life force is returned. If it isn’t returned in the time allocated, the individual will expire.” He sounded like he was quoting someone else’s words and didn’t look happy about it.
“Or?” Snape asked.
“Or? There isn’t any ‘or’, Severus,” Darien told him. “They got the slips signed last night, everything is already prepared. I’ve been arguing against something that has already been passed, which I don’t need to tell you is an exercise in futility. The only way to get out of it is to give them the boy, and even then there isn’t any guarantee they wouldn’t just transfer the spell to him.”
“Alright,” Severus said, seemingly unperturbed. “I suppose they need me to sign somewhere?”
“Christ, man,” Ackerley swore, “you have bollox of fucking steel. You understand that this means he can kill you? Only you won’t die, not really, you’ll just be mended and he can start all over again. They’re going to begin this lovely process by carving out a piece of your soul – you think your fancy mind magic is going to be in tact after that? Think about what you’re doing here, Severus!” Darien sounded torn between being enraged with Snape and pleading with him.
“I like you too, Ackerley,” Snape said lightly, “but I’ve done all the thinking I care to do on this matter. Do you have the document on you now?”
“Yes,” Darien ground out through clenched teeth. He produced a very official looking parchment and pointed to multiple lines on it with a quill that he then handed to Snape, looking away while he penned his name.
Severus signed the document in three places handed the quill back. “Done?”
“Yes, I’ll go turn it over now. I should charge you extra for making me do this, you know.”
“I’m sure you will,” Snape assured him.
“Who are all of these people?” Draco asked, his face only a little paler than before.
“The press, security, curious folk with a high enough rank to go where they like,” Darien said. “Lanning also has some supporters here.” He indicated the adjacent corner of the room with his chin and a tilt of his head.
“Is there a ceremony?” Draco continued. “Do we get privacy for that?”
“It isn’t anything as refined as a ceremony,” Darien began. “The Officials will combine their magic and cast a unified spell on Severus. It will basically funnel some of his ‘life energy’, ‘soul’ whatever you wish to call it, into an unbreakable container. After the fourteen days are up he will take it back and it will absorb into his system again, healing him in the process. It is ridiculously powerful – they didn’t give me much time but I looked up what little I could find on it – there is almost nothing it can’t fix.”
“And it’s instant?” Draco pressed.
“Until the life force is returned at the end of the fourteen days, he will only be healed when and if he dies - I’m led to believe that the healing will be almost instantaneously after death. When the life force is returned, however, it may take some time for it to become one with him again. The restorative process will last however long that takes. I’m sorry gentlemen, I know there are a lot of holes in this explanation, but it’s honestly all I have.”
Draco nodded. “There’s no backing out at this point anyway, I just wanted to know.”
“That’s what Severus pays me for!” Ackerley gave a fake smile and walked towards Lanning’s corner with the paper clutched perhaps too tightly in his hand.
“Severus-” Remus said, so many things welling up inside of him that he didn’t even know where to begin.
Severus put his hand on his arm to silence him. “It is done, Remus,” he said gently.
Harry was running his hand through his hair, almost fidgeting with unease.
“Relax, Potter. You’re supposed to be showing your support, not your nerves, remember?” Draco pointed out. “I’m planning on freaking out as soon as we get home. Think you can hold it together until then?”
Harry looked over to Draco and found no mockery on his face. He nodded, “Of course.” He straightened up and placed his hands in his pockets. “I just think someone should know about this!”
Draco rolled his eyes. “They do know, Potter. This is the kind of shite my father used to pull all the time, collect enough signatures from the right kinds of people in the middle of the night and then present them the day of, leaving the opposition with no time to even figure out what went on.”
“This isn’t right,” Harry protested.
“You’d be surprised how much goes on in this building that you could say that about. You work here every day, what are you, blind?”
“Willfully ignorant, I guess,” Harry admitted.
“I wonder how many people with scarred left arms could say that as well.”
Ackerley bustled up to them, interrupting further conversation. “They’re ready to begin. Come to the front of the room. Severus will stand at the table; the rest of you can watch a short distance behind him like Lanning’s supporters are.”
Severus was the first to start moving, following just a step behind his solicitor as he marched up to the table.
The leading officiator announced, “Commencing! Let it be noted that all papers have been signed and all documents accounted for.”
The crowd found purpose as it collected a healthy distance away from the table. People quieted and all eyes were on the front of the room. Lanning stood there, handsome and smiling beside Severus whose face was vacant of expression as he stood squarely with his hands relaxed at his sides.
The officiator touched his wand to the table in front of them, which Transfigured itself into a wooden chair with a high back and thick arms.
“Be seated,” he told Snape.
Severus stepped away from where he’d been rooted, walking the few short steps to the chair with his shoulders squared and his head held high. He took his seat and waited, ignoring the crowd and their mutterings. He could feel that this was an item that was steeped heavily in magic, the wood trembled with it. Taking a moment to look more closely at what he was sitting on, he found that what had appeared at a distance to be the swirling pattern of the wood grain were really tightly wound runes. The chair was covered completely in them, as far as he could tell. He wondered, not for the first time, exactly what he had signed himself up for.
“The six of you are ready?” The officiator asked more quietly of a group of witches and wizards gathered around behind him.
They were all wearing formal robes, their department and class were depicted by the colour of cloth and embroidery. All were high ranking people from inside WIBNA and Severus didn’t recognize any of them. When there was no sign or sound from them, the officiator held his arm out in a welcoming gesture, inviting them to gather around Severus. They collected around the front of him in a semi-circle, their wands drawn and at the ready. The man standing directly before Severus was at the head of this circle.
“You understand to what you have agreed?” he asked.
“I do,” Severus voice was heard, clear and strong.
“And you do this completely of your own free will?”
“I do,” Severus answered again.
The man stepped forward and cast a spell that had magical restraints flying out of the end of his wand. They looped themselves around Snape’s wrists, ankles and shoulders, effectively fastening him to the chair. He took an intricate phial out of his robes and put its heavy golden chain around Severus’ neck, leaving the container to hang against his chest. He then leveled his wand at Severus’ forehead and waited. It took only half a moment for the other five to copy his actions and move nearer, their wands all pressed against Severus’ head as well. The flash of a camera briefly lit the room.
“They’re going to put a piece of his soul into that thing?” Harry asked, horrified for all of the reasons one would expect of the man who had once had a shard of Voldemort’s soul lodged in his own body.
“From what I understand,” Draco said grimly.
“I can’t wait to see what a Death Eater’s soul looks like,” a woman standing near them said to Draco, having overheard their conversation, “if there’s even one left in there.”
“Mind your own damn business,” Harry snapped, looking her straight in the face.
The lady must have recognized him, because the next time Draco looked over, she was nowhere to be seen.
Remus appeared to be stunned, standing there gripping the handle of his cane like it was keeping him anchored in reality instead of just keeping him upright. He vaguely heard the boys talking behind him, but couldn’t tear his eyes away from Severus. It would take six trained mages to remove a piece of Severus’ soul? How were they positive that any of this would work as expected? What would happen if a mistake was made? He forced himself to stand still and watch the proceedings without running forward and demanding that they stop all of this insanity at once.
One by one, the witches and wizards gathered around Snape began to chant. Their voices came together in a round, first one and then another’s joining the almost lyrical words. Not another noise was audible in the room while their voices slowly reached a crescendo; even hearing it, one got the impression of spiraling, circling, a jagged corkscrew of sound...
Severus was sweating – the shine of it across his forehead was obvious even to those who were observing from farther away. Remus was much closer than that, forcing himself to stand as stoically as he could while he watched his master’s hands tighten and clench into fists before a ragged cry of surprise and agony was torn from him.
The voices didn’t waver, if possible gaining even more in speed and intensity. Severus had begun to struggle slightly against his restraints; his eyes were blinking slowly as if in a delirium, rolling about in their sockets as if he had no control over them. His breathing had become shallow and rapid and it was clearly seen that every muscle in his body was taught to the point of snapping. The runes on the chair had begun to glow, their light cold and worrisome.
One by one the voices petered off into silence. Then one at a time they gave a stern command and pulled their wands sharply back from Severus’ head as if they were trying to pull something directly out of his skull. Each time, Snape gasped and convulsed as far as his bonds would allow him. When the man standing in front of Severus, the last whose wand was touching him pulled away, he did so with more obvious resistance than the other five had done.
Severus shrieked like he had been immersed in fire, his whole body writhing as if trying to burrow itself inside of the chair and away from what was happening. The gathered crowd inhaled and collectively drew back with surprise. The phial around his neck had jumped off his chest as if the man in front of Snape had pulled it away with the motion of his wand. As it fell back against Severus’ body, a light was seen shining out of it, though this light was white and clear and seemed to glow like a small sun through the container it was held in.
The bonds holding him to the chair let loose and Snape pitched forward, retching to one side for a prolonged moment, holding himself up with his forearms on his knees. He was coughing and sucking in large gulps of air, struggling not to topple out of the chair completely.
The six people who had cast the spell resumed their places in the crowd. The officiator was pausing, giving Snape a second to collect himself.
Severus realized this and pulled himself upright, wiping his hands across his face as if trying to wake up from a long sleep. He looked down at the glowing phial around his neck in open wonder, lifting it up and gazing closely into it. He let it drop back to its place, put his hands onto the arms of the chair and pushed up with what felt like all of his strength before turned to face the officiator.
“You are ready to proceed?” he asked Snape.
Severus nodded and took a few shaky steps closer. He felt weak and more than a little like a leaf shaking in a strong wind. There was a sensation of emptiness inside of him that was only quiet when he held the glowing phial tightly clenched in his hand. He tried to take stock of his mental shields but found his mind too disorganized at the moment, too much was going on inside and around him.
He looked in awe again to the phial around his neck. This was his soul? It was clean and appeared to be whole, no spots in it were transparent or dull, no obvious tears or patches. In that case all souls must look like that to the naked eye – beautiful and unblemished – and the talk of destroying, sullying and tearing of them must just be words used to describe what happens intrinsically to the soul when the person it belongs to commits the murder of another or practices dark magic. Otherwise he was sure his would look more like the skivvies he’d unwillingly shown to most of the school in fifth year – grey, tattered and barely resembling what they originally started out as. He was jarred from his thoughts.
“Your last act as a free man will be to choose the person you entrust with your wand as well as your life force until such time as they are returned to you. Take any time you need.”
“Remus Lupin,” Severus said right away, his voice hoarse but assertive; he didn’t need time to think about that.
The officiator nodded. “Will Remus Lupin please step forward?”
Remus shakily stepped away from Harry and Draco, walking his way to where his master stood.
“A slave?” The officiator asked with unconcealed disdain.
“You told me that I could choose,” Severus said.
The officiator shrugged, stepping out of the way so Remus could be closer to Snape.
Severus handed his wand over to Remus first. It was already placed in a long, thin box that he pulled from a pocket in his robe.
Remus took it reverently. “Are you sure?”
“More than,” Severus told him.
Remus looked into Snape’s face, finding that he appeared utterly exhausted after what had just happened to him, almost as if he had aged a decade in the short time he’d sat in that chair. There was also more than a little panic in his dark eyes. Remus wondered what had all been affected by them tearing out such an important part of him like that and wished they had a private moment to speak.
Severus lifted the phial from around his own neck and moved to sling the chain around Remus’. He took longer than necessary, allowing his fingers to linger on Remus’ smooth skin, looking into his eyes. People were talking amongst themselves in wonder, cameras continued to flash as people photographed anything of interest.
“Take care of those for me,” Severus told him, trying to lighten the moment, seemingly ignoring everyone else.
Remus’ voice had closed over, so he simply nodded, pocketed the wand and tucked the softly glowing phial into his clothing then stood there awkwardly with his hand over top of it. He had so much that he wanted to say to Severus, but knew that now was neither the time nor the place for such things. He felt the weight of all the eyes in the room upon them and wanted the floor to swallow him up. Instead he took his cue from Severus and stood with his back straight, his chin up.
“Step back, Remus Lupin,” the officiator instructed, “your part is finished here.”
Remus reluctantly did as he was told, going to stand over by Harry and Draco, for some reason unwilling to meet their eyes as he went.
Lanning stepped forward, making almost his first action since they’d arrived. “My turn?” he asked the officiator cheekily.
“Yes Healer,” he replied with the slightest hint of an indulgent smile. “Step forward, please. I believe you’ve done this before.”
“Oh, I know the drill alright,” Lanning said, stepping forward and smiling devilishly at Snape. “Ready?” he asked, voice light and taunting.
Severus dropped his gaze, otherwise making no sign of answer.
Quinton shrugged and put his wand up to Severus’ face, saying the words to a general bonding spell flawlessly and from memory. Severus was still as the magic was cast, his head finally snapping back like he’d been punched in the face; he staggered but remained standing, touching his fingers gingerly to his temple.
Lanning lowered his wand, putting it back in a holster on his arm.
“So that’s it, he’s mine?” he asked the officiator excitedly.
“As of now, the half lunar cycle begins. In other words, yes Healer, he is yours.”
“The spell is already in effect? I can punish him in any way that I think is appropriate, as many times as I like?”
People were milling around, apparently disappointed that this was the end of the excitement. The reporters were still hanging about, talking to people and loitering to try and get to speak to anyone important about what had happened. Harry, Draco and Remus hadn’t moved, waiting until the last second to stand and show their support. Lanning’s cohorts were still there as well, for the most part. Some of them were speaking to the remaining members of the crowd with animation and joviality.
“Everything is ready for you, Healer. He is yours to do with as you see fit until your time runs out.”
Lanning appeared enthusiastic almost to the point of agitation. He was walking in a circle around Severus, sizing him up and taking him in from head to foot. He stopped behind him.
“I’ve been waiting a long time for this,” Lanning said to Severus, a strange light in his eyes. He drew his wand and cast a simple ward around Severus and himself, reaching down into his boot and pulling out a thin blade with a plain handle and dragging its sharp edge viciously across the column of Snape’s throat with no warning or hesitation.
Severus’ hands went reflexively to his neck, the sound he made was between a cry and a choking gurgle as he tried to breathe through his cut throat. Blood sprayed from between his fingers, hitting the ward and dripping down it at an alarming pace, confining the mess to a crimson circle around their feet. Snape was trying to breathe, coughing and gagging wetly on his own blood, his severed windpipe making the most god-awful sounds as he fought for life.
Remus almost fell over as he tried to surge forward, his cane forgotten in his desperation. “No!” he bellowed, even as Harry and Draco tried to keep him back and upright, open expressions of dismay and disbelief twinned on their faces. Two people in the remaining crowd shrieked at the sight of so much blood. Camera’s flashed around the room like strings of firecrackers lit off at once.
Lanning allowed Severus to fall to his knees, hands slipping from his neck where they were valiantly but ineffectually trying to keep his blood in his body. The Healer stepped closer, pulling Snape’s kneeling body to lean against his own as he grabbed a handful of hair and wrenched his head back so he could look upon his face as he died, allowing Snape to writhe and struggle for life while he grinned madly down at him.
Most of the room appeared too stunned to move, even the officiator had a frozen look of disbelief on his features.
It took what felt like forever for Snape to stop thrashing, his body going limp against Lanning, supported only by the angle of his fall and Lanning’s fist in his hair. Blood still gushed from the raggedly open wound, which seemed to sprawl completely from one side of his neck to the other. Eventually, even that stopped, leaving Snape’s body now completely devoid of motion or colour, other than his clothing and skin, which were stained the most shocking shade of red.
Remus wasn’t aware of his own reactions, never mind anyone else’s. He was openly sobbing, still weakly fighting against the boys to be nearer to his master. His mind was reeling, this couldn’t be happening; there was just no way that this could be happening!
Lanning let Severus fall to the ground, where he landed in the pool of his own blood, face turned to the side and looking almost straight at Remus with dull, glassy eyes. He then cast a cleaning Charm on his own robes, brushing them off afterwards as if trying to remove any trace of contact he’d had with Snape. He turned his wand on the blood, having to cast the Charm three times to remove all of the blood pooling thickly on the floor and around Snape’s body. He let the ward fall with a faint shimmer of magic.
“How long is this supposed to take?” he asked, sounding out of breath even though he’d exerted little energy during the whole ordeal. He kicked Snape’s shoulder with the toe of his boot.
Almost like that was what he’d needed, Severus body began to quiver. Every part of him vibrated to the point of dramatic tremors. His mouth opened and closed, his eyes rolled back into his head as if he was peering directly into his own brain, nothing but white looking sightlessly out of his fluttering lashes. He gasped and gurgled as the tissue of his neck began to close itself off, almost as if a grotesque zipper of skin and arteries was doing itself up across his throat. He was lying awkwardly on his stomach and side, spine arching almost past the point of possibility, arms and legs jerking as blood replenished itself inside of him. He seemed to collapse totally, finally sucking in his first full breath and then promptly coughing like he was trying to turn himself inside out. Blood and tissue flew from his lips onto the ground. He coughed so long and so hard that he triggered his own gag reflex, vomiting what looked like a stomach full of blood and bile onto the tiles beside him. Finally, after minutes of fighting, he lay still, panting and wheezing on the floor by Lanning’s feet. Overall, the process of him returning to life was almost as violent as his death had been.
Remus couldn’t even close his eyes. He forced himself to watch every second of it, thinking that without a doubt this was one of the worst things he’d ever witnessed with his own two eyes. As Severus wrestled for life, the phial around his neck began to radiate warmth against his chest. He clutched at the glass bottle under his shirt and held it anxiously, trying to remind himself that as long as he had this, Severus would be alright. He did a poor job of convincing himself, even as Snape struggled to rise by lifting himself up on his arms and failed, falling back to the floor as a man completely and totally fatigued.
“Get up already! What are you waiting for, a written invitation?” Lanning snapped at Severus, his lips twisting.
Snape tried to comply with the order, apparently not having enough energy, collapsing back to the ground again.
Lanning crouched by Snape’s head, forcing him to look up at him with a hand gripping his chin cruelly. Severus appeared to try and say something, but Lanning spoke before his mangled throat could form any words. “What, not the first face you thought you’d see after you died? Don’t worry, you’ll think I’m the Devil soon enough.”
“How many more times are you planning on doing that, Healer?” The officiator coughed nervously. “That was quite a… graphic display to put on in public, don’t you think?”
“As many times as I goddamn feel I have to!” Lanning’s handsome face contorted in hatred and rage as the words flew like a guttural snarl from his lips. Some of his neatly styled hair had slipped askew and with blood still flecked across his face he looked like a man completely unhinged, his eyes wide and chest heaving. “This Death Eating cunt deserves whatever I decide to give him and more,” he said quietly so only those standing close enough could hear. “I had to be positive it worked. Besides, if you think this is graphic, you should come and visit us later. Justice is often bloody, your Honor.” Lanning smiled and stood again, straightening his hair.
The officiator still looked more than a little disturbed, nodding and appearing very eager to leave the room, his eyes darting to the door. “Take him home Quinton, The Ministry is no place for this.”
“Gladly,” Lanning said cheerfully, “we’ll have more to occupy ourselves there anyway, won’t we Severus? I do strongly recommend getting up now, you can laze about later.”
Severus somehow found enough strength to push himself up into a sitting position, still seeming more than a little out of it. He moved up onto his knees and balanced with one hand on the ground as he pulled one leg forward to set his foot on the floor. He drooped for a moment and Remus thought he was destined to end up as a heap again, but he steadied himself and used a burst of strength to haul himself up unsteadily onto his feet, where he swayed but managed to stay standing.
“By the looks of things I should have fought to take your concubine over there,” Lanning pointed out, indicating Remus. “I really had no idea you were so fond of him. I could have done him a favor and put out his lovely eyes so he wouldn’t have to look at you for the rest of his miserable life.”
“Bugger yourself,” Severus rasped, privately glad he still retained his speech.
“Myself? What fun would that be?” Lanning said with a musical laugh. “I was kind of hoping you would be impolite,” he said as a side note pulling something out of his pocket. “We can’t have you polluting the minds of these good people with your filth, Severus,” he told him as if instructing a small child in something very simple.
He stepped behind Snape again and strung a gag around his head, positioning a large ball inside of his mouth and pulling the straps tight. “Too loose?” he asked in a mockery of concern and touched Snape’s cheek with the tip of his wand. His jaw opened visibly wider as the ball grew in size. Lanning surveyed his work, repeating the motion of the wand. A snap was heard as Severus’ jaw gave way, the sound of agony he made as his jaw broke muffled by the ball filling his mouth.
“Bet you’re glad for that mountain on your face now,” Lanning chuckled as Snape fought to breathe through his nose, likely in excruciating pain. He tied Severus’ hands behind his back and affixed a heavy collar around his neck, fastening it tightly across the new mass of scar tissue on his throat and taking the end of a leash attached to it in hand. “And we’re off,” he said lightly to the officiator and turned, pulling Snape swiftly behind him as the crowd parted to let them pass.
“Fuck,” Harry said, running his hand through his hair.
“Think about it later, Potter,” Draco said. He was almost as white as Snape had been while bloodless on the floor and his face was set in an expression made of stone. “Let’s get Remus out of here.”
Harry looked over at Remus to find him standing and leaning heavily on his cane as if he had aged a hundred years. Tears tracked down his face and his mouth was hanging open a little, lips tilted down in a look of despair. He put his hand on his elbow only to find him shaking.
Darien chose that moment to reappear. “There are some things I need to do to finish up here,” he said sourly, looking more than a little frazzled. “Severus mentioned to me that you may need legal advice on some… personal matters.” He looked over his shoulder with paranoia. “It is best we discuss such things in private. I’ll come when I can.”
“You’re not leaving with Remus?” Harry asked. “Would you like me to bring him and Teddy over later?”
Ackerley frowned. “I thought they were staying with him,” he indicated Draco. “I was intending to come by tonight or tomorrow morning, whenever was convenient for you all.”
Harry turned to look at Draco.
“Yep,” Malfoy said. “We’re all heading back to Severus’. Best come by tomorrow, Ackerley, I think we might need some time.”
“Done. I’m going to see if we have any way of appealing this, but the support we would need to gather is tremendous. We’ll talk more tomorrow and hopefully I’ll have some good news for you, but don’t get your hopes up.”
“Thank you,” Draco said.
Darien turned on heel and went back over to gather his things.
“They’re staying with you?” Harry blustered.
“Can we talk about this when we’re out of here?” Draco asked, voice rising just a little.
“Yes,” Harry said forcefully. “Come on, Remus,” he said more gently, taking him again by the elbow and leading the dumbfounded man from the room.
Just as they were almost out, Red and the Witch came up to them, notepads in hand and cameras slung around both of their necks.
“Comments?” Red asked bluntly.
“Later,” Harry snarled, standing between them and Remus protectively.
“Get him outside, there are some benches just down the hall,” Draco said, seeming to gather himself up. “I have a statement prepared.”
Harry looked at him like he had corn growing from his ears but did what he was told and ushered Remus from the room. He sat them down on the benches and settled for watching the people slowly disperse. He tried to talk to the older man, but Remus was having none of it, sitting speechless with his hands balled tightly into fists on his lap.
Eventually, Draco emerged as well, the picture of calm. He sauntered up to them, waiting patiently for Remus to stand. They left together, one on either side of Remus and not another word spoken between them for fear of bursting at the seams.

Back at Severus’ place, they moved immediately into the living room, getting Remus seated. Harry sat beside him, half off his cushion with his elbows on his knees like he might lunge forward at any second. Remus was still wringing his hands, face wrenched. Draco went straight for the liquor cabinet brining three glasses and a full bottle to the table. Thankfully, Fred and Teddy were still busy, presumably down by the pond.
Draco filled and handed out the cups, knocking his back with no preamble. “Merlin, that was even worse than I’d expected,” he said bitterly.
“You can say that again,” Harry agreed. “What the hell are we going to do?”
“We’re going to fight them,” Draco said with purpose, “any way we can and this is our motivator.”
“He killed him,” Remus said suddenly, the first words he’d spoken since Severus returned to life, “like it didn’t even matter, there in front of all of those people. That wasn’t even enough; he had to humiliate him in such a painful and awful way…” Remus drained his glass and covered his eyes with his hand. “What is he going to do with him for two weeks?”
“You can’t think like that,” Draco told him resolutely, “or it will paralyze you. We need your input, Remus. You were a full member of the Order of the Phoenix, the only one who is currently available to us. You helped strategize and fight your way through two wars. The experience you bring to the table is invaluable. I know it is difficult, believe me, but you have to try and pull yourself together. For Severus. We have to at least try to gather the backing necessary to get him out of there as soon as possible.”
Remus touched the phial under his shirt, drawing it out from under the cloth and holding it cupped in his hand. “You’re right, of course,” he said quietly. “I don’t know how you’re doing this so calmly, but you do have a point.”
“Yeah, isn’t he your godfather or something? That couldn’t have been easy for you to watch,” Harry said with concern. “Are you holding up okay?”
“It isn’t me that we need to be worried about,” Draco said, a flash of panic appearing and disappearing on his face as Harry spoke. He cleared his throat. “I had best get started on sending those letters. There are a few things I need to get from my room; I’ll be right back.” He set his glass down and exited up the stairs in a hurry.
Remus waited a moment to respond, until he’d heard Draco’s door open and shut again on the second floor. “He’s had a difficult time lately, even without all of this. It isn’t my place to tell you any details but suffice it to say there is a lot weighing on his mind and on his heart. He has a lot to do right now to get these stuffy old Pureblood houses to come together over something they never even would have considered before. I think that he feels pressured to do this for Severus, and that vile scene today at the Ministry made things very real for him. I know it did for me,” Remus said, his voice cracking as scenes from earlier in the afternoon ran unchecked through his memories. “We have to help him, Harry.”
“We will, Remus,” Harry said reassuringly, putting his hand on Lupin’s arm. “I don’t know much about Pureblood houses, but I found out this morning that I’m great at sealing envelopes!”
Remus recognized the attempt to make him smile for what it was. “Thank you,” he said not quite mustering the expression.
“I’m going to go talk to Hermione tonight, but I’d like to stay here and spend some time with you, see Teddy for a while and find out what I can do to help here.”
“Bring your owl next time,” Draco said, exiting the staircase and heading to the kitchen. “There’s better light in here.”
“We’re coming,” Remus said before Harry could object. Harry collected the glasses and bottle and followed Remus into the kitchen.
“My owl?” Harry said.
“Yes, it’ll take Severus’ owl too long to send out and reply to all of the correspondence needed to get this ball rolling. I’ve just sent him off with the batch we did up this morning. We’ll have to get another one going now.”
“Won’t this take too long to do by mail?” Harry asked.
“Definitely,” Draco agreed. “You didn’t read the letters this morning?”
“No,” Harry admitted sheepishly, “I just used a spell to copy the body of the letter.”
“Yes, I saw that, but without reading it? Really, Potter, do try and stay informed. I’m arranging to meet them at Malfoy Manor two days from now, the ones that are willing to give this a chance, anyway. I’ve asked that people reply with their RSVP by tomorrow evening if possible, that way the elves have a chance to prepare everything in time.”
“You’ve spoken to your father about this?” Remus frowned.
“I wrote to him, yes. He wants this to succeed as much as anyone, and the more prominently he can feature in its success, the more pleased he will be in the end. He insisted we have it nowhere else.” Draco rolled his eyes.
“Your father wants to help free the werewolves?” Harry asked in disbelief.
“Lucius wants whatever will help pull the Malfoy name out of the mud he’s stamped it into. He sees this as a golden opportunity to do that because it if succeeds, it will put miles between our name and what happened with Riddle, or so he thinks. He might be right, but I don’t care about his motivations if it will help get Severus out of that madman’s possession in anything less than two weeks.”
“Fifteen days,” Remus corrected absently. “Do you really think this will work?
“I honestly don’t know,” Draco said. “But we still have to try. I’ll attempt to get the old houses on board, and any offshoots of their family trees I can contact. When we meet, I’ll ask everyone to spread the word to anyone they even suspect might be interested. Potter, I’ll need you to rally all of the support you can from inside the Ministry and anyone else you might know or have influence over.”
“Influence over?” Harry asked.
“You’re The Boy Who Lived, the man who defeated Voldemort and you’re telling me no one owes you anything?” Draco asked sarcastically.
“I don’t tend to look at it like that,” Harry argued.
“Well it’s time you change your perspective then. I’ll have Ackerley draw up a petition; I’ll write him right now, that way he can bring it when he comes in the morning. We’ll get as many people as we can to sign it. The more recognizable their names and families, the better, but we’re taking anyone that can sign with their magical imprint.”
“I can contact Order members and associates,” Remus said. “If they read the papers they’ll already know I’m alive, at least.”
“Good idea,” Harry agreed.
“Do you think they’ll stand and support Severus? After everything?” Draco asked uneasily.
“They had damn well better,” Remus said indignantly. “If not, I may not have the power to go and give them hell in person, but I can write an angry letter that will blow your mind.”
Draco laughed, “Somehow, I believe you. Fine, do it, any assistance is welcome. We’d best get started, and Potter?”
“What?”
“Maybe you should go and get that owl now.”

In the end Harry came back with two owls, neither of which he had borrowed from Hermione, much to the applause of Draco and Remus. Teddy and Fred came in, and though he’d just spent the day outside, the boy seemed more morose than usual. He helped Fred to make supper and then went upstairs to colour by himself; Remus thought it was best to give him some space for a while.
They wrote letters into the night, sending them out in batches whenever the owls returned. Eventually they had to quit, the birds started to come back irritable and more than a little out of breath. Even after that, they sat and talked, drinking another glass of Scotch.
“We’ll take it up again in the morning,” Draco said, shaking out his hand which was starting to cramp quite spectacularly. “Are you able to be here when Ackerley comes, Potter?”
“Not a problem; I have the next three days off, it was just how the rotation worked out. Looks like I’ll be keeping more than busy while I’m out of the office.”
“Good. I don’t know about the two of you, but today has really taken it out of me. I think I’ll retire sooner than later,” Draco said.
“Yeah, I should get out of here, I still wanted to go and see Hermione tonight,” Harry said.
“Sounds like a good idea,” Remus said, though privately the thought of crawling into Severus’ bed alone appealed about as much as a bed of coals. “I have to get Teddy to bed anyway. I’ll see the two of you in the morning for tea, breakfast and another round of letter writing.” He took his cane in hand and stood. “Thank you boys, for everything,” he said to them. He meant it honestly and from his heart, and he hoped that both of them could see that.
They must have because Harry smiled and said, “No problem, Moony.” Draco just blushed and looked at his knees, giving a close approximation of a nod.
“Goodnight,” he said turning to leave the room.
Draco looked up, “You’re going to be alright up there?” he asked suspiciously.
“Yes,” Remus smiled, “I can manage alright by myself, thanks to this cane.”
Draco’s expression clearly said that wasn’t what he meant, but he went along with it anyway. “Alright, I’m just down the hall if you need anything.”
Remus nodded again and turned the corner into the living room, letting his face fall only when he was sure he was out of sight. He ambled up the stairs at his usual snail’s pace and went straight to Teddy’s room, where he found the boy already in his pajamas and in bed, The Wind in the Willows open on his lap and all three sealer jars Snape had made tucked into a blanket against the wall beside him.
“Hi Teddy,” he said, feeling nervous for some reason he couldn’t quite put his finger on. “How are you doing?”
Teddy shrugged. “I miss sir,” he said sadly.
“Me too,” Remus admitted freely, going to sit on the edge of the bed.
“How long is he gone?”
“After today, fourteen days,” Remus said.
“That’s a long time,” Teddy complained.
Remus was sure that however long it felt to them, it would feel a thousand times longer to Severus. “It will go faster than you think,” he assured Teddy, wishing those words could comfort himself as well. “Should we read another chapter in your story?”
Teddy nodded and snuggled under his blankets. Remus cleared his throat and began to read.
At some point he must have fallen asleep, he woke with a warmth against his chest, confused as to where he was. He found his bearings, seeing Teddy sleeping soundly beside him. He pulled on the chain around his neck, holding the phial tightly in his hand, willing the heat it put off to mean anything other than Severus was dying brutally and then clawing his way back to life right now in the lonely hours of the morning, somewhere far from him.
Feeling alone enough, he allowed the tears that had been threatening to fall all day to pour down his face. Once he started, he found it impossible to stop, his shoulders shook with them, he was having a difficult time staying silent. He was just about to get up so he didn’t disturb his sleeping son when he felt a warm arm thrown around his middle, squeezing him in a half-hug.
Teddy sat up and sleepily hugged him more completely. “It’s going to be okay, Daddy. Do you want to open one of my jars with me?” he asked innocently.
Remus almost wanted to cry harder at his son trying to make him feel better. He took a deep breath and tried to collect himself. “Let’s do that, Teddy,” he said shakily.
“Do you want to open it?” Teddy offered.
“No, you go ahead, I’ll just look with you,” Remus told him, marveling at the boys sweetness.
Teddy took the lid in his hand and found that it easily twisted off. He removed it and set it aside, looking in to the seemingly empty jar. After a half second of silence, Severus’ voice filled the room. Teddy, still sleepy, looked around excitedly before he came to realize that the sound was coming from the mouth of the jar.
“Hello, Teddy,” Severus’ voice said, “I hope that you’re having a good day. Wherever I am and whatever I’m doing, I’m thinking about you…”
Remus sat back and soaked in the sound of his voice, closing his eyes and letting his anxiety float away. His voice went on to reiterate everything he’d assured Teddy about already, but in one long speech. He talked about potions he wanted to brew with him, places he wanted them to go - all three of them together. He told him that he loved him and would do anything for him, to protect him… The ache in Remus’ heart gathered strength the more he listened.
Severus had done this the night before, while Draco was making pizza dough with Teddy. The fact that he’d gone downstairs and taken the steps to make his boy feel better even on the eve of whatever disaster he’d agreed to made him want to kiss the man. Listening further with Teddy, he knew that they had to get him out, there was no other choice; not for him at least. He would write letters to anyone he’d ever heard of and try to convince them to go and hear Draco out, to at least sign the petition.
He waited until Teddy fell back to sleep and tiptoed back to his room, changing into Snape’s sleeping clothes and climbing into bed, holding Snape’s pillow tight against his chest and inhaling deeply. Holding the phial in his hand, he felt as if he was as close to the other man as he could get without him actually being present, he closed his eyes and waited for sleep to come, wondering what Severus was enduring right now.

The walk through the Ministry to the public floos went by in a blur for Severus. He let Lanning lead him where he would, floating in a haze of pain and disorientation as he went. Dying was exhausting work. Or was it returning to life that was difficult and that dying had come all too easily? He wasn’t sure he was in the right mind to think through it at the moment. All he knew was that his feet marched onward, and every clumsy step he made jarred the ball gag he’d been forced to wear against his broken or dislocated jaw; he wasn’t positive which it was.
He was distantly aware of people pointing and staring as he walked by. He was certain he made quite the sight as he followed Lanning on his leash, stumbling and pale, blood-soaked and dour with a red ball jutting out of his startlingly open mouth.
Finally they made it to the floos. Lanning pushed him in and said the destination with a toss of powder, leaving him, hands bound and half delirious, to fall in a heap on the floor of wherever he was going, and fall he did, head and shoulders connecting soundly with the floor. He was almost thankful it happened, taking the precious few seconds he had to just lay there. Tentatively he tested his mental barriers, only to find many of them in tatters. He would need time to fortify himself, to dig a hole he could bury some of himself in so there would be anything remaining when this was all over. He withdrew and closed his eyes.
Lanning came through only a moment after. “Lying about again, are we? My my, Severus, I’ve no idea how you managed to get so much done during the wars with this kind of a slothful attitude. Get up.” His melodic voice quickly turned dark and dangerous as he gave his instruction.
Severus knew it was in his best interests to rise, even though the result of getting up and staying on the floor would likely be the same. He decided to play Lanning’s games while he still had some strength and clarity of thought. He struggled like a worm exposed to the open sun, hands still bound behind his back, for over a minute before he figured it out and was able to get himself up onto his knees. He sat breathing as heavily as he could through his nose, wishing for the first time in his life that it was larger.
Snape managed to stay balanced long enough to get the foot of his good leg set flat on the floor, but how he was supposed to pull himself up onto his bad leg from the position of a proposing man was a mystery to him. Still, it had to be done. Using all the momentum he could gather, he pushed himself upwards, somehow managing to get his other foot under him and stand without ending up on his arse. He doubted his luck would last long, however.
“Come with me.” Lanning took his leash in hand again, pulling needlessly on the end so that Snape stumbled on his first few steps following him down the hall.
He was led down a very long flight of stairs into the basement. There they passed several cages holding middle aged men and women, maybe six of them in total. They sat as if statues, looking at their knees or the floor. Next to the cages was a flat table surrounded by a net of gauze. An operating table?
Lanning chuckled, one of the ladies flinched. “Careful Felicia, next time that could mean you’re up!” He led Severus through another doorway while explaining, “Those belong to WIBNA and they were set for extermination. I can make far more use of them as research subjects, though. They’re all very glad you’re here! They know that means I’ll leave them alone for a bit. After all, life can’t be all work, you know!”
Severus tried to ignore him as they passed through another room, this one containing two cages. One was noticeably empty, but the other held a small boy right around Teddy’s age. He peeked fearfully out from between the bars, as frozen as the people in the other room had been. He must have hit his head harder than he thought when he fell out of the floo because Severus found himself smiling at the boy as Lanning walked past him without a glance. The boy didn’t look like he knew what to make of the expression.
“That is Daniel, my last little pet for the moment. His friend had to go on an extended trip and I don’t think he’ll be coming back,” Quinton smirked. “So it’s just him and I left to play together for the moment. Well, you’re here now too of course.”
Severus felt chills run up and down his spine. His mind supplied an image of Teddy in the cage opposite to that frightened little boy and he wanted to take this man by the hair and smash his head into the stone floor until it popped like a grape under a falling cinder brick.
”This is where you will be staying,” Quinton said, introducing him to the last room in the row.
Severus didn’t know where to look first. All the room needed was a throne set on a pedestal in the middle of it and he thought Voldemort would have felt quite comfortable here. A set of manacles hung from the ceiling, with their adjoining set attached to the floor below. There was a rack, a Judas’ chai, and three different pears of anguish that sat on a shelf beside a very familiar looking table; this was only at first glance. The room was a veritable chamber of horrors. He didn’t feel prepared to take it all in now, so he looked at his feet and waited.
“Nervous yet?” Lanning asked sweetly.
Severus wouldn’t have answered even if he could. Anxiety was bubbling within him, of course; but he couldn’t help but feel relieved that he was standing here instead of Teddy. Even if his mental fortress was in ruins, he could still assure himself with everything he was sure to go through, that he was doing this for a reason. The boy was likely still down by the pond with Fred chasing frogs, and the thought fortified him.
“That’s right, you’re not really in a place to have a discussion, are you? Let’s see what we can do about that.” Lanning stepped forward and undid the clasp on the back of his head. The heavy straps flapped about his face but the enlarged ball wasn’t coming out so easily. “I’m going to save your teeth for later,” he told Severus, touching the tip of his wand twice to the side of his cheek, reducing the ball to its original size and then pulling it out by the straps.
Lanning went and hung the ball gag on its place on the wall of instruments, spelling it clean and turning around.
“I saw you eying up the pears as we came in,” he told Severus as if in general conversation. “I was thinking those would be a good place to start too. What’s that?” he asked, holding his hand up to his ear as if Severus could have said something with his jaw in the state that it was. “Your jaw is already broken? Well don’t worry, I was planning on fixing that before I went for some lunch. How about I do it now?”
Lanning pocketed his wand and brought both hands up to investigate the state of Snape’s jaw. His prying fingers made Severus’ knees weak as he felt his bones grinding together. Quinton took out his wand again and said a spell with the flourish of his hand. Snape saw stars as everything shifted suddenly back into place with the same sickening sound it had come apart with. He staggered but stayed upright by some miracle.
“There!” Lanning proclaimed. “Now let’s get you settled before I go, hmm?” he pulled Severus over to the manacles, hooking one onto the place on his collar the leash was hanging from. He stepped back and waved his wand, the chain slowly retracted until Severus was standing on the very balls of his feet to prevent himself from choking. He stood and watched Severus for a moment.
“I am going to totally destroy you tonight,” he told him serenely, stroking Snape’s cheek with a tender motion. “You just wait right here.” He turned and walked from the room, closing the door behind himself.
Severus waited. He waited until his legs and feet began to burn and cramp and then he waited even longer. He tried holding his breath and relieving the pressure on his calves, but the weight of his body against the newly formed scar on his neck was almost worse than the pain he was feeling in his legs. This was fairly standard, a game easily played by Lanning. He could last it out. He waited some more, pushing himself further than he had in a long time to keep from strangling himself, he knew if he passed out it could be all over. But then what? He’d struggle back to life only to exhaust and suffocate again and again until Quinton returned? The prospect was both intriguing and horrifying.
He tried to pull himself into his mind, but the physical exertion of standing like this for so long made it more than difficult to get any work done. He would just have to wait, to bide his time until he had a moment’s peace to think. He realized that he may never get that time, but the thought of that was too depressing to consider while almost being garroted.
Finally, an unknown time later, the door opened and Lanning sauntered lazily in. “Sorry to keep you waiting, but with all of this excitement, I found myself taking a nap after eating.” He stretched his arms over his head and curled his spine. “We really should get started, two weeks can go by so fast!” he waved his wand and the chain holding Snape up went totally slack.
Severus’ legs weren’t able to handle the change in position fast enough, he crumpled to the floor in a painful heap.
“I can see that your mobility is going to be an issue,” Lanning pointed out, levitating him from the floor and moving him to lie on the table, untying his hands from behind his back. “We’ll work on that later. Tonight I’d already promised you the pear. I was debating on which one to go with, but I decided in the end that for all of the lying, treacherous shite your mouth has spewed over the years, we couldn’t go with anything but the oral pear.”
Severus took a deep breath and wiggled his jaw, touched his teeth with his tongue one more time. He prayed that Lanning understood the nuances of the spell that had been cast upon him, that it would heal more than just the injuries that had caused death. He supposed he’d find out, but the lesson would be brutal.
“We’ll work our way up to it, how does that sound?” Lanning suggested. “Let’s start with something a little easier, I think.”
It turned out that ‘something easier’ meant an evening of progressively worse cruelties. He was stripped and tied to the table facing the ceiling with little to no mobility possible. Lanning used a small but weighty ballpein hammer to crush what he was certain was every bone in both of his hands. He passed out several times, but Lanning continued to revive him. Eventually he fed him a potion to keep him awake, talking to him all the while.
“Where is this Snape endurance I’ve heard so much about?” he mocked. “I was looking forward to a challenge. Maybe you’re just out of practice. We’ll work on it. Tonight I’m going to do everything by hand.”
Lanning carved away at him like he was the Christmas goose, tossing whatever he removed onto the floor with a wet squelching sound. He detached three of his toes with a long shears and cut lengthy strips out of his legs that could have been used for jerky, all the while talking about his plans, his job, whatever seemed to come into his mind.
In his small cramped world of agony, Severus assumed this must be Quinton’s bedside manner coming out in spite of himself. He burrowed into the pieces of his mental barriers that weren’t totally destroyed and reminded himself that nothing was forever, that he could outlast this and anything else. He knew enough about anatomy to know that although he was bleeding and in pain, he would not die from the wounds being inflicted on him, not yet anyway.
Quinton brought a bag of shining white powder over and set it on the table beside Snape’s leg. “I don’t know whose side you were on during the war,” he told Snape “And you know what? It doesn’t particularly matter to me. Either way, you’re responsible for the death of my family and countless others.”
Severus was trying to listen. With his shields being what they were, any distraction from the sensations flooding his body was welcome. This man was really taking his time about it, if this torture had been at Riddle’s command he would already have been much further along. Not that he was complaining.
“Do you remember killing my family, Severus?”
He didn’t try to respond, figuring that whatever he managed to croak out wouldn’t even resemble English anyway.
“Well, you did. Either you were following Dumbledore and you knew about what they were planning for them and did nothing to stop it; or you were following He Who Must Not Be Named and you went along to take part in the fun. Hell, if the Ministry is to be believed, it’s likely both of those at once.” Lanning waited a moment. “Well, Severus, do you remember? …Answer me!” he screamed hoarsely, any pretense of control lost.
“No,” Severus tried to say, but it came of more as an exhale of pain.
“No? Well let me tell you what they did, what you did! The children died first – one bludgeoned to death, he was only three years old. The baby they just put in the bathtub and turned on the taps; the water was still running when the Aurors arrived. They raped my sister in law in front of my brother, cursing her with bloody slashes and then covering her in a blanket that one of them transfigured to salt; and when that got tiring, they put the Killing Curse to her. I wonder which was worse for her: the pain or the sound of water running in the other room? And my brother? They held him under Cruciatus so long that something in his brain burst. Any of this sounding familiar to you?”
“No,” Severus tried to deny again. It was true, he had no recollection of these events. When he had to go on a raid, he was usually in a position of some authority. When it was possible he had tried to spare the children, when it was not he made sure they went swiftly and with as little pain or fear as was possible. Had he been there, he would never have permitted them to be treated in such a fashion. It was pointless now, it was done, they were dead and there was even less he could do about it now then there had been then.
“Liar!” Lanning shrieked, spittle flying from his lips. He took the bag and dumped it over the section of Snape’s leg he had practically skinned. It was salt.
Again, Severus screamed and writhed. Again, all that was left to do was to last it out. Why the human body was allowed to feel such pain and have no escape from it was something he had wondered often in his life. If he had had the presence of mind, he would have questioned it again.
“Some salt for your wound, Death Eater,” Quinton spat. He changed the position of the table so that Severus was at more of an angle, standing and watching his suffering very intently.
Snape finally and vaguely heard the sound of Quinton’s boot heels clicking away from him. He knew this didn’t mean he was through with him, not by a long shot. He focused on breathing through the pain and tried to think about what Teddy and Remus were doing just then. He managed to get himself under control, trying to summon the strength of mind he’d had through the last war, wondering neither for the first nor the last time how he’d managed it.
“Have you met the sjambok yet, Severus?” Quinton asked, returning to his side. “I’m sure you’ve been on both ends of the whip before, looking at your scarred carcass and knowing what I do about your past. …I’m waiting, Severus. Do the two of you know each other?”
Severus shook his head, the only way he could think to answer without making a sound.
“Well I’ll be more than happy to introduce you,” Quinton said happily, uncoiling the tapered strip of thick leather from around his hand. He brought his arm back and brought it back down with all of his strength.
Severus barely had time to register his words before the feeling of a small linear explosion was felt across his chest. He barely had time to gasp before it volleyed over him again and then again. Lanning wasn’t shy about where he hit him either, laying welts and broken skin across what felt like every portion of his exposed body.
As the volleys fell, so did Severus, into an almost forgotten trench in his mind, separating himself just enough from what was happening. He felt the pain, but was able to hold just enough of himself back to be able to exist inside of it instead of drawing back, scrambling to get away and knowing he wouldn’t be able to. Anguish was still there, but with the fear removed just slightly, he could do it. Endure, survive, continue; the familiar mantra began itself inside of him, steady as his beating heart. This time he even had something to survive and continue for.
“What? Am I boring you already?” Lanning asked, sounding disappointed. “I usually get better results from this one,” he said as if to himself. “Well if you’re tired of this little ditty, maybe we’ll jump straight to the pear.” Lanning set the whip aside on the table, breathing hard.
He went to the shelf holding the three metal pear shaped devices and returned with the one that was a little shorter and rounder than the others. He tapped the ball of it against his palm and looked at Severus seriously.
“This used to be used on liars and heretics, did you know that?” Lanning asked conversationally. “I think it’s perfect for you. Think of the damage that mouth of yours has done! Whether you lied or spoke the truth, people died, whether you spoke at all or were silent, people died. You said a spell, more people suffered and died that way too, don’t tell me they didn’t! Your hands aren’t clean, despite what the Ministry would have everyone think, that’s why I broke them before doing much else. This device was made for you, Severus. I’m only glad that I have a chance to be the one to apply it to you. You really have to admire the hilarity of it, a pear destroying the mouth of a fruit! This really is too perfect!”
Severus took a deep breath, burrowing farther into his shallow trench in preparation for what he knew came next. Riddle had gone through a book detailing different kinds of Muggle torture with him years and years ago. Tom had been delighted at the ways they had thought up to torture one another without magic. Now, it just meant he knew what to expect. Before it started, he just had to clear a couple things up. His jaw was likely in the best condition it would be in for quite some time, fancy soul healing or no, so he might as well speak while he could.
“You don’t consider what you do to be murder or torture?” he asked, his voice sandpaper in his throat, sounding foreign to his ears.
“Of course not; I’ve only maimed and killed animals in my life, and I’ve had a license to do it too. In the name of science and the betterment of society! If you sprout fur and fangs regularly at any point in your life, you’re not a human being. It’s basic biology. They are not the same as us and they never will be, plain and simple. I don’t feel like debating morality with you, Death Eater.”
“Alright,” Severus croaked. “But one thing I’m not sure about, you derided my sexuality earlier, and yet you tried to assault a child. Even if he is an animal in your eyes, how do you explain that? Pedophilia or bestiality, which label would you prefer to put on it?”
“I owe you nothing, least of all explanations for the way I live my life! Even now your vile mouth spews such slander! If you are such a child’s champion, where were you when my family was being brutalized, hmm? Were you holding the wand, or did you just run the cold water? Enough. I’ll silence you for tonight at least.”
Lanning stepped forward and pulled Snape’s chin down roughly, jamming the pear into his mouth and then holding it closed. With his free hand he inserted the key and began turning, holding everything in place until the petals of the pear opened enough to hold themselves there by sheer force. He continued to turn the tool, forcing the petals further and further apart.
As the sides of the pears separating parts began to dig into his tongue, cheeks and the roof of his mouth, Severus tried to pull himself farther and farther from reality, only managing to make it so far. As the petals pushed up against his teeth, first with a cold pressure, and then with unbearable distress he stopped his scrambling and found his mantra: endure, survive, continue. Endure, survive, continue… as the pressure became too great and his cheek tore while two of his teeth simultaneously were wrenched from their sockets, he knew that to endure was the first step and his only actual option.
The part of himself that was buried in the shambles of his protective shields, found an image of Remus and Teddy and held on tightly. He knew their evening had been infinitely more pleasant, and found peace in knowing he had arranged that, even as more teeth were breaking loose from his gums and Lanning just kept turning that damned key. For the second time that day he found himself choking on his own blood and wondering just how much time was left until he finally died. Then they could begin afresh. It was going to be a long fifteen days.

A/N: There! I hope you guys got into that a little more than the last chapter and that I didn't scare anyone away. Also that it didn’t turn out too graphic, too unbelievable or just make you roll your eyes. Please let me know your thoughts and thanks again for coming back! There will be more as soon as I can.
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The Long Road