Sure enough, Potter and co. showed their monumental idiocy. Despite their impressive defensive perimeter, they somehow made a sloppy mistake. Word did not reach Snape until the affair was over, but the hair rose on his neck every time he thought about it.
He had been wrenched from a perfectly lovely nap by the burning of the Mark on his arm. Cursing heartily, he dragged himself out of bed and threw on his travelling cloak. Malfoy Manor was in an uproar. Bellatrix and Lucius both lay on the floor, shuddering slightly, experiencing the effects of the Cruciatus curse. Draco cringed in a corner, trembling from head to foot. Narcissa bore a few cuts and bruises but clung tenaciously to her composure.
"My Lord," Severus murmured, bowing low. Voldemort snarled, his eyes flashing scarlet, and raised his wand. The Headmaster stood his ground without flinching.
The Dark Lord gave a small, pleased smile. "Ah, Severus. You do not shrink from me like a mewling coward. If I were to punish you, you would accept it without complaint."
"Yes, my lord," Snape affirmed. "Failing you would be punishment enough, but it is your right to inflict discipline as you see fit. Only let me know in which way I have wronged you, so that I can endeavor to improve."
"You see!" Voldemort exclaimed, glaring at Lucius and Bellatrix. "Severus does not shrink from his mistakes. Like a true academic, he seeks to learn from them. He does not cry and plead for amnesty."
Bellatrix's face contorted in rage. "I would gladly suffer a thousand Cruciatus curses, if it would only restore me in the eyes of my lord! I burn to smite all of your enemies. My lord knows that my only wish is to serve him! If only Lucius had not allowed the brats to escape—"
"Enough!" Voldemort yelled, and Bellatrix flinched like a kicked puppy. "Again you accuse others for failure, when you yourself share part of the blame." He turned his wrathful gaze toward Draco and Narcissa. "It was your house elf that aided in his escape!"
"Ye-es," said Narcissa hesitantly, recalling what he had said about owning mistakes. "However, he has not been in our employ for a number of years. The elf was defective and unfit to serve a pureblood family."
"That is not the story that I heard," the Dark Lord mused, "but that is immaterial."
Narcissa realized that her family was still in danger. "Without Draco's help," she explained doggedly, "we would have never realized who we had captured! The face of the Potter boy had been deformed beyond recognition."
Voldemort looked slightly mollified. "He still did not do enough to prevent the escape. Perhaps the loss of his wand will teach him the error of his ways."
"My lord," Severus said smoothly, bowing his head in deference, "Mister Malfoy requires a wand for school. I do not wish to suggest that he escape without punishment, but it would seem suspicious if he resumed his classes without a wand. He may also persuade others to join our cause, and he will not be able to do so from a position of weakness."
"I will loan Draco my wand, if it pleases my Lord," Narcissa whispered, her gaze focused at his feet.
Voldemort's face contorted. "Very well!" he spat. "The whelp can have his mother's wand when the time comes to return. Boy!" he roared at Draco. "Once more your Headmaster has interceded on your behalf. It is far more than you or your pathetic family deserves. Show him the proper gratitude. Kneel and kiss his feet."
Draco gave an undignified squawk, shooting Snape a filthy look, as if the man had spat at him instead of arranging for access to a wand. Severus paled slightly but did not dare to contradict his master. He had done all that he could for Draco this day. Narcissa grabbed his arm tightly and nodded. The boy shuddered but dropped unceremoniously to his knees. He brushed the toe of Snape's dusty black boot with his lips, all the while shooting the man outraged glares. Severus stared straight ahead, as if the drama unfolding at his feet was beneath his notice. In a way, Voldemort was right – Draco was proving to be a bit of a disappointment. He was too spoiled to allow his Slytherin instincts of self-preservation to kick in. If Draco had a lick of sense, he would appear to bow to the Dark Lords whims, while plotting to restore his family to glory. The plotting was no doubt occurring right at this very moment, but unless Malfoy appeared to play Voldemort's game, his time would be very short indeed.
Snape's fathomless black eyes widened when he caught sight of a patch of blood on the floor. "Was someone injured?" he inquired, gesturing to the coagulating stain.
"The house elf!" Bellatrix crowed. "I threw a knife at it! My aim is true! I have avenged my Lord!"
"Was the elf not carrying Potter and his friends? If they have come to harm by a hand other than my own, all will suffer!"
Some quick tests revealed that the blood belonged solely to the elf. What that meant for Potter, Severus was uncertain. The boy had not been wounded in his escape, but if the elf died before his charges could be delivered to safety… who knows what could happen? They could have been splinched or somehow trapped in transit. His heart skipped a beat at the thought. No, he must remain calm. Potter had always had an uncanny knack for escaping the most dangerous of situations. Surely this time would be no different. Still, there was little doubt that the elf was mortally wounded. He must let Lucie know so that the elves could grieve. What a sentimental fool he had become!