Author's note: Look! I wrote another chapter! I did it all by myself! Whoo-hoo! Tell me what y'all think!
Suffer the Children
Chapter II--Introductions
Severus Snape stared in shock at Voldemort. "My Lord," he whispered, "I don't know the first thing about taking care of children." He knew he was not his master's favorite servant, but this task seemed a ridiculous waste of his talents.
"You're the youngest of my Death Eaters and therefor the most capable. Regardless, I should not have to justify my reasons," Voldemort simply replied as Snape looked at him aghast.
"Master, I have killed children. No, literally. On your command! I don't think the girl is safe with me. I overfed my Sea Monkeys. I drowned a cactus!" Severus implored, but his lord only laughed in a dark and unsettling way.
"You will go to Dolohov's home tomorrow and you will take exemplary care of their pureblood child. You will do this, Severus, or you will endure the Cruciatus until your brains explode."
***************
Snape had heard a good deal about the Dolohov's, but there again, so had the rest of the wizarding world. Dolohov had used his pureblood marriage and child as a symbol for the Death Eater movement. The wealthy Antonin lived in the public eye, his London popularity playing soapbox to his campaign against muggles and Mudbloods. Stories of his ridiculous wealth spread and coupled with the man's undeniable charm, people were slowly being swayed by his reasoning. Regardless of what the others might speculate, Snape knew that was why Voldemort kept Antonin close. Dolohov was a public magnet and one of the few successfully gaining support for the cause.
Everything taken into account, Severus was honestly not surprised to arrive at the heavy iron gates of a sprawling, opulent estate. He opened the gate and headed towards the house's back door as Dolohov's owl had instructed him to do. He was greeted there by a trembling house elf.
"Wot regrets to inform you that Master is not at home," the creature crooned, wringing his hands woefully. "He left early. Very angry about having to do so. He was sorry he couldn't be here to welcome you himself. But the girl is upstairs; third door to the right. Master said you'd be coming to see to her. Wot will be in the kitchen if you need anything." With that, the strange little elf disappeared, leaving Severus alone in the Dolohov's sumptuous parlor. He removed his traveling cloak and hung it from a hook, taking in his surroundings. He strode aimlessly out of the parlor and found himself at the foot of a grand staircase. Sighing with resignation, Snape realized he ought to go see what his baby-sitting charge was up to.
From inside, the mansion seemed even larger, its halls stretching on eternally. Snape rapped lightly on the girl's door before entering. Strava was sitting cross-legged on the floor, her dark eyes focusing intently. Her looks were not surprising--skin pale like china glowing under a tumble of raven hair. She was a neat mix of her parents features and apparently their interests as well. The little girl bent studiously over a miniature cauldron and a mess of test tubes, flasks and beakers with which she seemed to be brewing an imaginary potion.
"What are you making?" Severus questioned, somewhat bemused. Strava didn't even bother to acknowledge his presence as she answered.
"Making an antidote. Dolly is dying. Poisoned." The girl's voice was chilling and matter of fact. Severus stared at the strange girl, taken aback. Sure enough, her doll was lying sprawled on its back. The toy looked strangely pale and sickly.
"Well, right then," Snape muttered, thrown by the girl's behavior. "Well, you . . . you do what you have to do to save her. I'll just sit here and you tell me--or better yet, that house elf--if you need anything." Snape watched as Strava worked dutifully on her imaginary antidote. Perhaps this task wasn't impossible. Menial, he brooded, unworthy of his talents, but not impossible. Thinking darkly of his deflated potential, Severus drifted off to sleep in his chair.
He was dreaming of his father, some distant faded memory biting at his mind with fresh agony. He was snapped from reverie by a harsh sigh from a small figure at his feet.
"Everything all right?" he yawned to the girl. She shook her head emphatically.
"Dolly died," the girl said casually. She produced a cosmetics palette from a bin of playthings. "I am going to do her make-up so she'll be pretty-ful at the funeral. Then I'll do yours so you'll be pretty-ful for the wake." Severus launched himself at the floor.
"She's not dead! She's only nearly dead," he cried, suddenly quite eager to 'save' the doll.
"Almost dead?" Strava questioned skeptically. "There's a difference?"
"Yes! Yes!," Severus fumbled realistically with the child's potion set. "What we really need is a bezoar. . ."
Suffer the Children
Chapter II--Introductions
Severus Snape stared in shock at Voldemort. "My Lord," he whispered, "I don't know the first thing about taking care of children." He knew he was not his master's favorite servant, but this task seemed a ridiculous waste of his talents.
"You're the youngest of my Death Eaters and therefor the most capable. Regardless, I should not have to justify my reasons," Voldemort simply replied as Snape looked at him aghast.
"Master, I have killed children. No, literally. On your command! I don't think the girl is safe with me. I overfed my Sea Monkeys. I drowned a cactus!" Severus implored, but his lord only laughed in a dark and unsettling way.
"You will go to Dolohov's home tomorrow and you will take exemplary care of their pureblood child. You will do this, Severus, or you will endure the Cruciatus until your brains explode."
***************
Snape had heard a good deal about the Dolohov's, but there again, so had the rest of the wizarding world. Dolohov had used his pureblood marriage and child as a symbol for the Death Eater movement. The wealthy Antonin lived in the public eye, his London popularity playing soapbox to his campaign against muggles and Mudbloods. Stories of his ridiculous wealth spread and coupled with the man's undeniable charm, people were slowly being swayed by his reasoning. Regardless of what the others might speculate, Snape knew that was why Voldemort kept Antonin close. Dolohov was a public magnet and one of the few successfully gaining support for the cause.
Everything taken into account, Severus was honestly not surprised to arrive at the heavy iron gates of a sprawling, opulent estate. He opened the gate and headed towards the house's back door as Dolohov's owl had instructed him to do. He was greeted there by a trembling house elf.
"Wot regrets to inform you that Master is not at home," the creature crooned, wringing his hands woefully. "He left early. Very angry about having to do so. He was sorry he couldn't be here to welcome you himself. But the girl is upstairs; third door to the right. Master said you'd be coming to see to her. Wot will be in the kitchen if you need anything." With that, the strange little elf disappeared, leaving Severus alone in the Dolohov's sumptuous parlor. He removed his traveling cloak and hung it from a hook, taking in his surroundings. He strode aimlessly out of the parlor and found himself at the foot of a grand staircase. Sighing with resignation, Snape realized he ought to go see what his baby-sitting charge was up to.
From inside, the mansion seemed even larger, its halls stretching on eternally. Snape rapped lightly on the girl's door before entering. Strava was sitting cross-legged on the floor, her dark eyes focusing intently. Her looks were not surprising--skin pale like china glowing under a tumble of raven hair. She was a neat mix of her parents features and apparently their interests as well. The little girl bent studiously over a miniature cauldron and a mess of test tubes, flasks and beakers with which she seemed to be brewing an imaginary potion.
"What are you making?" Severus questioned, somewhat bemused. Strava didn't even bother to acknowledge his presence as she answered.
"Making an antidote. Dolly is dying. Poisoned." The girl's voice was chilling and matter of fact. Severus stared at the strange girl, taken aback. Sure enough, her doll was lying sprawled on its back. The toy looked strangely pale and sickly.
"Well, right then," Snape muttered, thrown by the girl's behavior. "Well, you . . . you do what you have to do to save her. I'll just sit here and you tell me--or better yet, that house elf--if you need anything." Snape watched as Strava worked dutifully on her imaginary antidote. Perhaps this task wasn't impossible. Menial, he brooded, unworthy of his talents, but not impossible. Thinking darkly of his deflated potential, Severus drifted off to sleep in his chair.
He was dreaming of his father, some distant faded memory biting at his mind with fresh agony. He was snapped from reverie by a harsh sigh from a small figure at his feet.
"Everything all right?" he yawned to the girl. She shook her head emphatically.
"Dolly died," the girl said casually. She produced a cosmetics palette from a bin of playthings. "I am going to do her make-up so she'll be pretty-ful at the funeral. Then I'll do yours so you'll be pretty-ful for the wake." Severus launched himself at the floor.
"She's not dead! She's only nearly dead," he cried, suddenly quite eager to 'save' the doll.
"Almost dead?" Strava questioned skeptically. "There's a difference?"
"Yes! Yes!," Severus fumbled realistically with the child's potion set. "What we really need is a bezoar. . ."