Breaking
Sequel to "To Break". Second in the "Breaking" Trilogy.
Chapter One:
It was cold; very cold. He pulled his arms tighter around himself, shivering. He raised his head to watch the figure circling him, like a vulture cornering its prey. He felt empty; he had been so sure that he would have been killed, that he had prepared himself for that moment. Now he felt drained; he was existing, but not living.
Perhaps this was a good thing, considering his predicament.
Severus Snape had been a prisoner for much of his life; this much had become clear to him as time had progressed. But that had been a spiritual imprisonment and a mental imprisonment.
Now his spirit, his mind and his body was trapped in this cell.
Lord Voldemort was pondering him. The red eyes that had blazed with emotion little more than an hour ago were now dead. This worried Snape more; he craved freedom and yet it evaded him.
The silence was hurting him; he could barely hear himself breathing. He could feel the pounding of his heart, but no sound reached his ears. He felt remote, as if watching the scene before him through someone else's eyes.
"Do you have anything to say for yourself, Severus?" Voldemort breathed, not needing to speak above a whisper; he knew he had Snape's undivided attention.
Snape stared at him for a moment longer before answering, "No, my Lord. I will give you no excuses; nor will I feed you any more lies."
"You feel the weight of your betrayal. It saddens me that you turned from me. I wish to know a reason."
"You killed the person I loved more than anyone else, my Lord, even though I asked you not to." Snape paused. "I begged you not to."
"She was nothing to you, Severus. She would have only hindered you." Voldemort moved closer, "Is that your reason? It is not because Dumbledore twisted you with his lies?"
Snape felt a stirring of something in his chest at the mention of Dumbledore's name. "He showed me another...perspective."
"The right perspective?" Voldemort challenged, anger sharpening his voice like the blade of a knife.
"A perspective that did not involve killing people to show your power." Snape replied; he had no reason to be dishonest anymore; Dumbledore had shown him a new way of living, and he was happy to acknowledge that.
"Wrong answer, Severus."
He had been expecting the Cruciatus for nearly sixty four minutes. When it came, it was almost a relief. He was able to feel—feel the needles pushing into his skin, feel the cold floor as his palms smashed against it, trying to hold himself upright.
Voldemort didn't let off, simply watching as Snape fought against his own pride and dignity.
Through the pain filled haze clouding his vision, Snape thought about the man he was here for. He had argued with Dumbledore for this precise reason—how he lied and suffered and cried for him.
But he knew the reason why he did these things. It had taken him a long time to realise, yes. But now it was becoming clear to him.
He loved Dumbledore like a father; he would do anything for the man. So that was why he gritted his teeth and refused to scream. That was why he stiffened his muscles and did not give in.
That was why he plastered one thought into his mind, so that even if Voldemort did use his tormented state to violate his mind he would see only one thing.
Albus Dumbledore is the greatest wizard who ever lived.
It was cold; very cold. He pulled his arms tighter around himself, shivering. He raised his head to watch the raindrops running down the window. He felt empty.
Perhaps this was a good thing.
Albus Dumbledore didn't want to contemplate the terrible feelings in his chest at that moment. Loss and anxiety and heartache. He wanted to tear the world apart and yet he did not have the strength.
But he knew the reason why he felt these thing. It had taken him a long time to realise, yes. But now it was becoming clear to him.
He loved Severus like a son; he would do anything for the man.
So that was why he stood calmly and summoned the Order of the Phoenix. That was why he gritted his teeth and stiffened his muscles to keep the pain in.
That was why he plastered only one thought into his mind, so that everyone would understand that he would only do one thing.
I will rescue you, Severus Snape. Mark my words.