Just a little idea that would not leave me alone; a different take for me. It grew. - SS19

The Drink of Despair

The cave dissipated before his very eyes and he was plunged into darkness even while the emerald potion made its way down his suddenly dry and fearful throat. He peered through his eyes and thought he was alone - but then again, perhaps not…

There was a darkly clad figure before him, crumpled and crumbled upon the floor in a curved heap, and he appeared to be trembling. Albus knew his identity even before his mind had registered all the crucial details, for it was just a feeling, "…Severus…?"

The figure on the ground seemed to respond to the sound of his name being called, but rather than responding with the hope that Albus expected, there was instead a further curving in of his body as if he wished to escape, to hide. "Severus...what is the matter...?"

Albus took a step forward, toward the boy, wanting to pick him up from the ground as he always did. He did not understand the reason why the other cowered from him in such a way. But the longer he lingered, he also did not understand why he was holding his wand, or why he was suddenly undeniably thirsty. "Severus...my boy..." His voice came out a cruel rasp as his throat scratched painfully, and he craved water's soothing touch. Peering into the gloom as he neared his collapsed Potions' Master, he could make out another figure and he struggled to place or identify him...or her... "Do you desire a drink, Dumbledore?"

Albus stared, and stared into the serpentine face of Lord Voldemort, stood the other side of Severus and holding out a goblet with the shining green liquid inside. "Take it, if you wish."

Albus knew it was not wise to take anything from Lord Voldemort, and his mind sought to understand why he was here, and why Severus was here, and why Severus was collapsed before him. "No, thank you, Tom." Again, his voice ached, but he would ignore it, kneeling beside Severus - who instantly pulled away from him, holding up a trembling hand. Albus was confused, not understanding, not comprehending, "Severus? What do you mean...?"

He so desperately needed a drink.

"Dumbledore. Drink this. It will help." Voldemort had moved without moving, whispered without speaking, and the goblet was being forced into Dumbledore's hand and as he still contemplated the pleading Severus he gulped the green potion down, and then there was instant relief and his throat was no longer sore -

But Severus cried out, as if in terrible pain, and Albus presumed it to be a curse from Voldemort, but only Albus was holding his wand -

He leapt away from Severus, and the other retreated further, toward the now further away Voldemort.

"I do not understand." Albus dropped his wand to the ground, "How are you here, Severus?"

Voldemort reached out a hand and stroked Severus' hair gently, all the while staring at Albus, "Severus is always here, Dumbledore. At your feet."

Angry jealousy sprung inside his chest and Albus wanted to drag Severus away from Voldemort, "He is at your feet, Tom. Severus is my equal. " He responded to Voldemort but his words were meant for Severus, hurt when the other did not seem to respond, and only turned his face further away.

"Indeed? I think not, Dumbledore. I think not." Voldemort seemed amused, and he did not remove his hand from Severus' hair, "Severus desires to be, of course. He has always, and only, sought equality and faith. Unfortunately, he does not deserve it." He twisted his hand into Severus' hair, tight, and then roughly threw the younger wizard to the ground, "We made sure of that."

Albus flinched at the use of the pronoun 'we', "You did that, Tom."

Voldemort was suddenly beside Albus but facing the same direction so they both regarded the abandoned Severus who seemed unwilling to lift himself from the ground, "Really, Dumbledore? You think I am the only person responsible for..." He raised his hand and held it out, to indicate Severus, "That?"

Albus found himself unable to move away from Voldemort and his throat was beginning to hurt again, and he wondered if Tom had any more of the potion. Forcing his attention back to Severus, he shook his head, "I have saved Severus."

Albus was aware of Voldemort shaking his head next to him, but was far more hurt by Severus shaking his head too, in response to the same comment, clearly hearing every word. "Severus..." He swallowed and his throat burned, but it was not from emotion. "You need another drink, Dumbledore."

"No." Albus shook his head because when Voldemort said those words, Severus reacted and Albus, the most brilliant wizard of his time, understood now. If he had a drink, Severus suffered. It may not be Albus himself casting the curse, but he may as well be. His decision would cause Severus pain. "I do not."

Pale face and dark eyes were pointed his direction, and Albus found himself unable to look away.

"But you should drink, Dumbledore. After all, you need to drink to complete your mission. You need to drink to find what you seek."

Severus' eyes were now very interested in something on the ground before him, invisible to Albus and presumptively Voldemort too. "No. It hurts Severus."

Voldemort laughed, right by Albus' ear, mirthless and cold, "And what does matter Dumbledore? When has that ever mattered to you?" His voice dropped to nothing more than a tender murmur, and Albus felt the breath touch his cheek for Voldemort was so close to him, "When has it ever mattered if Severus had to suffer, for you to make gains?"

He was still unable to move, and he did not wish to show Voldemort how much the other's presence disgusted him, "They are strategic decisions and Severus understands. More than anyone, he understands the decisions."

Voldemort made a noise that sounded rather like a tut, before, "Does he?" He did not allow Dumbledore to answer his rhetorical question, "Our Severus is such a good liar, after all, no one could possibly be confident they know what he is truly thinking."

"There is no our Severus, Tom!"

"Believe me, Dumbledore, we are both responsible for this...disappointment."

"He is no disappointment! He is mine, not yours, Tom!" The vehemence in his tone was drowned by coughing as his abused throat refused to cooperate, and his coughing blended with more of Voldemort's laughter, "And they say I am so different from you, Dumbledore! You see Severus as a possession, the same as I."

The coughing was harsh and his eyes were watering and Albus felt the strength leave his limbs as he fell to his knees, still coughing, unable to make it stop, and even then through the haze he could still see Severus watching him, and he knew then it was resignation he could see. Severus knew what was going to happen next, even before Albus knew that he was reaching out for the goblet himself.

"That's it, Dumbledore. Drink. You need to drink it." Voldemort gave him the goblet and Albus drank, hard and long, even as Severus screamed in the background. He tried to block it from his ears, but something about the sound cut straight through him, right to his heart, and he wished there and then it would stop beating so he could let Severus rest.

The cries of pain cut, quite abruptly. Crouched in front of Albus, Voldemort turned his head to regard the now quiet Severus, and for a moment the silence was punctuated by Albus' raspy and Severus' uneven breathing. "Pathetic." Voldemort stated, and Albus looked to him, "He is not."

"Oh no, Dumbledore, I was referring to you, obviously. Using others for your own gain so you seem infallible and untainted, the pure Leader of the Light." Voldemort rose, and swept toward Severus. "At least I do not lie about torturing my followers."

"I have never used the Cruciatus on my followers, Tom." Albus wanted to get to his feet again but he was still finding himself unable to move. He wanted Voldemort to move away from Severus, although the logical part of his mind was reminding him that it was not Tom who was the danger to Severus.

"I think, Dumbledore, that you do not need to." He knelt by Severus, where Albus wanted to be, "Poor Severus...torn between two masters...at least you expected the lies and the pain from me, servant of mine."

"Severus..." Albus tried, "You know I have no choice, my boy, if I had a choice I would not place you in harm's way, you know that, Severus." He knew it sounded like he was pleading, and he was not even sure if Severus could hear him for he could not see the other's face, and could only hear that still uneven, that still pained breathing. "Severus...please..."

"Then again, Dumbledore." Voldemort reached out a hand and touched Severus' exposed shoulder, "Perhaps you have asked more of Severus than I have."

The words, the lying and deceitful words, fell from Albus' lips before he could stop them, "I have never asked too much."

Voldemort stared at him, and Severus finally raised his head to regard Albus too, and his expression threatened to break Albus' heart. Voldemort looked between them, "I used to tell a much younger Severus that you were blind, Dumbledore, but...even I am surprised..."

"I did not mean..." He broke off mid sentence, "Severus knows what I meant."

"I am not so sure of that, Dumbledore. But we will indulge your fantasy because nothing can change. Or, it could change, but it will not change. You will not allow it to change."

The goblet appeared on the ground before him this time, filled with the emerald potion. He would not need it offered to him.

Albus knew he would take it, again.

Severus knew that, too.

Voldemort continued to tease, "Yes, drink again, Dumbledore. Drink again because no matter the cost, you do not feel it sufficient to stop the torment you place Severus in. After all you think he deserves it."

Albus was eyeing the goblet as the pain started, again, but more this time, for the desperation that started to flood his veins was tangible and overwhelming and - "I do not."

"Why then, Dumbledore? Why would you put Severus through this?" Voldemort watched him most carefully, "You profess to love him, after all."

Severus looked way, away from Albus, away from the goblet, not even to the Dark Lord. There was resignation there, and there was acceptance; Severus knew Albus loved him, but he also put him in the same position each time.

Albus could watch Severus no more, and guilt stung. It stung, hard. "I have no choice."

Voldemort swept back toward Dumbledore and sat beside him. "You have no choice but to drink, Dumbledore?"

"That is not what I meant."

"It is irrelevant, Dumbledore, because you do have a choice. You could choose not to drink the potion. It will kill you, but it will spare Severus." Voldemort shook his head, "But you will not save Severus, you will choose to carry on your hunting Horcruxes with your Boy Wonder while Severus suffers."

Albus stared at Voldemort, how did he know these...

"Oh, I am just a figment of your imagination, Dumbledore, I am not really here. It is all a metaphor, that your own mind has conjured. Except that." Voldemort pointed to the weakening Severus, the tortured Severus, the desperate Severus, "That is very real. This is your reality, Dumbledore, but it is Severus' too."

He regarded the potion. He understood, now.

"So what is it to be then, Dumbledore? You could choose to die here. A setback perhaps but one the Light would recover from." Voldemort considered Severus, "Well, let us hope so, anyway, considering you have asked Severus to murder you."

The fact this Voldemort knew this did not unsettle Albus.

What did was how his Severus bowed his head.

"I never asked Severus to kill for me, Dumbledore. Not an Auror, not a wizard, not a Mudblood, not even a Muggle. The thought never crossed my mind to ask him to do that. Yet you, Dumbledore. You have asked him to kill a friend and a mentor and perchance even the only true father figure Severus has ever had. And you say you do not ask too much." Voldemort exhaled, "People say I am deluded, you know, Dumbledore."

Mortal urgency was chasing Albus now. He needed to finish the potion.

"Go on, Dumbledore, drink. You can finish it, the goblet will keep refilling until you have finished every last drop. Who knows what it will do to Severus, but who really cares, he's dispensable. Just like all your pawns, Dumbledore, all indispensable until they become...dispensable. You need Severus, but only until he kills you, and after that it will be too late."

His hand closed around the stem of the goblet.

"Do you think he will be able to live with himself, Dumbledore, after he has done it?"

He stared into the green potion.

"After all Dumbledore, you will not have to live with what you have done."

The war. All that mattered was ending this war, and stopping Voldemort.

"I see our conversation has rather become a monologue, Dumbledore." Voldemort reached out to tilt the goblet in the direction of Albus' mouth, "We will be hearing from Severus shortly though." Voldemort smirked and Albus hated, hated, hated him beyond all else in that moment, "He's so pretty when he screams."

"Severus...I am sorry..."

"Sorry means nothing Dumbledore if you do nothing to change, and you will never change. Drink, Dumbledore, you have to drink. You have to keep drinking." For a moment Voldemort's voice seemed to blend with someone else's, someone far away, and Albus could not place them - but he did - he drank -

He had to close his eyes. He could not watch Severus over Voldemort's shoulder.

"Drink faster, Dumbledore, maybe that will make it end faster for Severus - "

He swallowed and swallowed and swallowed and kept swallow, his thirst quenched and then his throat slaked even as he continue to drink, he had never needed something as badly as he needed this - he had to keep drinking - he had to keep -

He could hear Severus crying and screaming in the background, though it did not seem to phase Lord Voldemort when he dared to open his eyes for a mere second, for the other simply regarded him and then moved closer to press the goblet back to his lips and tilt it further so the potion spilled into Albus' mouth and down into his beard.

Silence did reign for a moment when the potion appeared to be finished. Voldemort looked into the goblet, while Albus chanced a glance to Severus.

He did not understand how a body which was, to his knowledge, complete, could look so broken. Any strength Severus had had appeared to have left him completely, and Albus had never seen Severus in such a way before - and he had cleaned many a wound and nursed for many a night.

"Go to him, Dumbledore. You always go to him. Severus is soothed by your lies."

He could move, finally. He stood and moved to Severus faster than he thought possible. "Severus, please."

He stared down at his destroyed counterpart, the one he had truly seen as the wayward son, and he felt his heart break even further. "My boy. I do not mean for this to happen."

To his credit, Severus did look up.

Albus saw the tears before Severus could adequately hide them or disguise them from those he did not wish to see him cry.

Albus was fighting such emotions of his own, and he did not care who saw them, he needed Severus to see that this pained him too, "This is my fault..." The words sounded louder, and clearer, than anything else had been in the small room of Albus' imagination and he wondered if they were heard beyond here, "This is my fault..."

"Are you soothed, Severus? The great Dumbledore admits this is his fault. He admits that he understands how you hurt." Still Voldemort continued to taunt. "Unfortunately Dumbledore, Severus has long since stopped believing anything you say."

"That is not true. Severus trusts me." Albus stared into Severus' eyes, "I know you trust me, Severus, I know you trust me."

The goblet appeared one final time.

It appeared next to Severus' hand.

Albus could not reach for it. He was unable to move. Voldemort did not appear to move either.

But Severus...Severus could, and would, and did.

His hand closed around the goblet.

"Severus..." Albus could still speak, "No. We can find another way."

Severus shook his head, slowly. Albus did not know why, he did not understand why Severus could not speak, and yet he yearned for the goblet in that pale and trembling hand. "Severus...it does not have to be you. You do not have to do this!"

Still Severus did not speak. His eyes held the question though. Who else?

And Albus knew he did not have an answer.

Tears, unbidden and unwanted, left damp tracks down Severus' pale face as he neared Albus. Albus wanted to stop him, he wanted to push Severus aside, cast the goblet to the floor so the poison spilled, he wanted to force another course of action.

He did not want to drink.

Severus spoke. Soft. Lilting. Breaking. "I promise I will do what you say."

Albus was reminded of those words. Sixteen years before.

"Please."

The goblet was against his lips.

Albus could move. His hand curled around Severus', around the stem of the goblet.

He did not stop Severus.

He did not push Severus aside.

He did not cast the goblet to the floor so the poison spilled.

He did not force another course of action.

He drank.

He watched, as Severus tried to hide all that hurt him. He watched the pain flood those black irises as suddenly Severus was struggling to breathe and the agony was too much for him and he let go of Dumbledore, collapsing to the blackening floor, clutching at his chest as liquid suffering and misery filled every cell of his body and every part of his bloodstream and Albus knew, weeping, and pleading, and despairing.

Severus was broken.

This was his fault.

But Severus was disappearing, though the cries were not, although maybe they were Albus' cries and tears and sobs, he was not sure now.

But Albus was looking up at another.

Harry.

"Severus. Severus is who I need. Wake him Harry, tell him what happened, and bring him here. Severus, Harry. Severus."

He needed to see Severus. He needed to stop this. He needed to find another way to save his most wayward one.

But then there was Draco and Harry was frozen beneath them. He would not lose another to the darkness like he had lost Severus, and he pleaded with Draco to see the other way, and he knew he was getting through to him, but really he did not want to - it was Severus he wanted to save -

Then there was Bellatrix, and Fenrir, and Death-Eaters, and taunting. Still he tried, still he battled.

And then there was another presence.

Severus.

Severus stepped onto the top of the Astronomy Tower, dressed in all black, and the only white was the paleness of his thin face. Albus stared at him.

He wanted to stop Severus.

He wanted to push Severus aside.

He wanted to help Draco.

He wanted to Stun Bellatrix and Fenrir.

He wanted to save Severus.

Time stretched out, and Severus was holding his wand. He stepped in front of Draco.

Albus did not stop Severus. Albus did not push Severus aside, he did not help Draco, he did not Stun Bellatrix and Fenrir.

Instead.

He saw the pain flood those black irises.

He saw how Severus was struggling to breathe.

He saw that the agony was too much for him.

He saw the liquid suffering and misery.

He whispered two words.

He saw Severus break.

"Avada Kedavra."