Title: All’s Fair
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairing: Severus Snape/Sirius Black
Rating: Future R to NC-17 for smutiness.
Disclaimer: The world is an unfortunate place that a very fortunate Goddess owns. It's not mine - it's Jo's.
Summary: Post HBP. Severus Snape returns to a Voldemort intent on partnering him with a most hated man from his past.
A/N: My first started WIP in...eheh. Well, let's just say a while. I just felt I needed to contribute as HP takes over again and the end of the end looms nearer (!).
X-posted to do_me_profsnape, hp_fanfiction and hp_slash.
L.B. to A.P.W.B.D.
Severus Snape and Sirius Black
AS THE AGED ENEMY FALLS TO FRIEND, TWO SIDES WILL BE REUNITED…LION AND SERPENT, LIGHT AND DARK, LIFE AND DEATH…ONLY THROUGH THEIR COOPERATION CAN THE GREAT EVENT COME TO PASS…THE MOST MONUMENTAL HAPPENING IN THE HISTORY OF THE DARK LORD…COMES TO PASS…AS DARK AND LIGHT REUNITE….
He landed face down in the dirt, his wand arm twisted under him at a grotesque angle as his ebony wand lay feet away, still shivering and sputtering red and gold sparks into the dead night air.
His chest heaved, rising and falling erratically, the heady, earthy scent of the damp ground muddling his mind. Slowly, testing his free arm, he pushed himself up with a shaky hand, snatching his now motionless wand as he stumbled to unsteady feet. He paused. Stood still, letting the darkness fill the spaces around him. He touched his cheek with his free hand, examining the vibrant mixture of blood and liquid rage that came away with it. The least of the night’s consequences. A deep breath and a few steps later, he was at the door of a rundown shack, which at its best, with some effort, could have been called a dreadfully shabby house. It opened immediately, allowing the corpse of a snake on its face to swing in sick semi-circles around the fulcrum of its rusty tack.
“Pettigrew,” he snapped, pushing past the diminutive man in the doorway to enter the house beyond. “Draco arrived I trust?”
“Just a minute ago. He’s down reporting to the Dark Lord now.”
Snape let loose with a low hiss, striding across the room to throw a furious wave at a stretch of blank, paneled wall. It moved aside with a high creek.
The stone stairs into the basement of the Gaunt house grew steeper and more precarious with each step, but Snape rushed down them and into the subterranean tunnel as quickly as his feet would carry him. He reached the third doorway and paused, raising a pale hand to rap on the warped wood.
“Enter,” came a hiss from the other side. Snape wasted no time.
“Ah, Severus…” Voldemort’s delighted eyes met Snape’s own with a garnet flash. “The hero of the night!”
Snape gave a curt nod of acknowledgement. “My Lord.”
He spotted Draco’s limp form draped over a spindly chair in the dark corner. He stood his ground, though his eyes betrayed himself with a flash of alarm.
“He is not dead Severus. He is being taught…a lesson.”
Voldemort’s eyes danced.
“But enough about Mr. Malfoy. He will recover. Physically. It is another I wish to hear about tonight. One who is not to be quite so fortunate.” He beckoned Snape into a chair with a wave of a skeletal hand before sweeping into another across the scrubbed wooden table.
“Tell me how it happened, Severus. I want to see exactly how it went. Down to the smallest detail. I want to see Albus Dumbledore’s life extinguished.” His eagerness was all-encompassing – it crackled with each sharp breath he took. “Tell me everything.”
Snape shifted in his chair, bunching his fists in the folds of his lap.
“Malfoy’s Vanishing Cabinets managed to transport the necessary…reinforcements. Rosmerta tipped him off as Potter and the Headmaster,” he cleared his throat as Voldemort let out a choked sigh of glee at the first mention of his fallen adversary, “arrived below the trap, our mark, on the
“Yes, yes, I know. Stop equivocating Severus. Get to his end.”
Snape blinked, the black pools of his eyes fixed on the fiery red ones opposite.
“Of course, My Lord.” He shifted in his seat with unflinching eye-contact. “I reached the top of the tower as fast as possible. It quickly became clear to me that Mr. Malfoy would be unable to perform his assigned task. I pushed him aside. Faced the Headmas -”
“Do not call him what he is no longer. I want to hear you say his name, Severus. Dumbledore. Albus Dumbledore. He was only a man. And now he is only a dead man.”
Snape’s dark eyes flashed.
Voldemort’s thin slash of a mouth curled up in malicious delight.
“I faced Albus Dumbledore, my wand pointed directly at his heart. I channeled every last bit of hate, of rage, of pure detestation the man has caused me to feel since the moment I laid eyes on him into the mother of unforgivable curses. I killed him, showing no mercy for the merciful as he lay begging at my feet, reduced to the pathetic sobs of lost hope.”
Voldemort gave a low growl, his eyes flashing with furious lust, the jealously of a life that should have been his to take. He took a tremulous breath, curling and uncurling his spidery fingers.
“You have done admirably, Severus.”
A charged silence flooded in then, sinking into the room like a weight, settling into their breastbones.
Finally, Voldemort stood, sweeping over to the door in a flash. He turned then, meeting Snape’s eyes full-on.
There’s someone I’d like you to meet, Severus.” He gave a dark chuckle. “Well. Perhaps ‘meet’ isn’t the proper word. How about become reacquainted with? I’ve decided to partner you up – it can’t do any harm.”
Snape stood in a flash, his robes billowing about his ankles.
“I work alone.”
Voldemort’s eyes narrowed dangerously.
“You work with who I tell you to work with, Severus.” He slammed the door behind him.
Snape clenched his fists. After all that had passed… He lashed out, kicking the chair in a spurt of base human rage. He smirked as he felt its leg split, splaying out in a frazzled array of splinters. His breaths came in quick succession as he sank his palms down onto the rough tabletop, his eyes falling shut, body tense. It was seconds before he heard two sets of footsteps trailing down the hallway outside. The door opened. He didn’t turn, not until he recognized the arrogant, self-satisfied, unbearably cocky drawl of the man behind him.
“How’ve you been Snivellus?”
His lip curled as he turned on his heel, face to face with his worst enemy of twenty years, an utter bastard of a prick, a dead man –