The assembled Death Eaters began to break into groups as Voldemort Disapparated from the meeting site. Those that had been given immediate tasks left with barely a word to anyone; the Dark Lord had been know to return shortly after dismissal to make sure that none were too lax in their duties. Those that stood high in favor at the moment could linger, making private wagers on who would be first to report back with success, or amusing themselves in other, less bland ways.

Severus Snape's glance took in all the assembled members, assessing which way was closest for him to leave the Riddle House and start on the lengthy list his master had given him to make. Some of the poisons were high-maintenance, meaning he couldn't let Draco help. The slightest mistake, a missed ingredient, a slow stir instead of fast, and the fumes would kill the both of them before they realized their mistake.

The siblings, Amycus and Alecto, were arguing in the south corner of the wide hall, drawing attention to themselves and away from the ill-favored Potions Master. Slowly, as if looking at the disturbance as well, Severus made his way toward the far exit, privately wondering whether he'd make it out without anyone being the wiser. The tactic had worked several times before.

Perhaps he had used it too often of late. Greyback immediately cut of his escape with a snarl, while another Death Eater, still robed and masked, ground out, "Colloportus!"

The door that he'd been aiming for no longer an option, Snape began to back away from the wolf. He'd known the half-breed didn't like him, but until recently the wolf had been unable to do anything about it. Now, with the favors shifting…

"Not leaving already, Snape?" Fenrir rasped, smirking. He lunged forward, catching the man's shoulder in his iron grip. "We don't get to see you all that much anymore."

Crabbe and Goyle senior ambled forward, their dim brains registering the impending conflict quickly. With Lucius still in Azkaban, the two thugs had been without a great deal of fun or exercise. Bellatrix moved away from the throne where she had been lounging beside. The siblings voices had gone quiet, a sure sign that Snape's chances of getting away from this quickly were slim.

"I have important work to do, Greyback, which I dare say you know about, being so close to the Dark Lord." Snape wrenched his shoulder out of the wolf's grip.

"Unlike us?" Amycus sneered, while his sister simpered behind him. "Is that what you meant?"

Too late, Severus realized his mistake. He still couldn't put these rejects from normal humans in their place. The Dark Lord would hear of it and would, in turn, punish him for thinking himself better than the little half-blood that he was. Nevertheless, he tried to smooth the other's feelings. "Amycus, our lord has greater things for you and your sister, I am sure, that I am not privy to."

It seemed to work; the siblings agreed with him and backed off a bit. With a bow, he turned toward the now-opened door.

The first punch landed low on his back and side, right into the kidney. Twisting on his feet, trying to stay upright, Goyle's large fist rammed into the corner of his jaw, knocking him flat on the hardwood floor.

Clearing the stars from his eyes, he slowly started to rise to his feet. He'd almost made it, too. The curse from behind curled him back onto the floor. His scream almost overpowered Bellatrix Lestrange's laughter. 

With a loud crack, Snape apparated straight to the study of his private lab. He stood shaking slightly for a moment or two, allowing the pent-up adrenaline out of his system. When he could trust himself not to curse the first thing he saw, he opened his eyes to the dim-lit room.

In the lab itself, he could hear Draco going about making another of the simpler potions. After the events of the past June, the boy had been in his care, Narcissa realizing that the boy could not be found at Malfoy Manor. The Ministry had bounties out for both of their heads, never mind the fact that the boy hadn't killed the Headmaster, that it was --

An empty beaker across the room shattered explosively on the desk as Snape looked at it. He collapsed in a chair, ignoring the broken glass and the abrupt silence from the other rooms. He dropped his head into his bloody hands and tried to gather himself together. He had to keep his emotions in check, or there was no point in trying to brew today. Contrary to what many believed, wild magic didn't always end when a wizard gained full control of his wanded abilities. Sometimes the person could deliberately try to teach themselves to unleash it, although the magic often decided when it was going to appear, and when it wasn't. That was the main reason why most Light wizards didn't bother with it.

Snape had been fascinated with the idea as a student, and by 6th year had been able to call up the ability more and more often. When he'd tried to use it in a fight against Black and Potter, however, he learned the other drawback-- time. It simply took too much uninterrupted time to get the power to come forward and do what he needed. He could, if he practiced enough, levitate objects to him, light small fires, and even shatter glassware if given the right incentives, but practically it was useless to him.

And so he abandoned the idea in favor of easier spells and hexes, curses and vile potions, many of which were his own devising. The idea did not want to be abandoned, however. The gifts he had worked out often decided when to arise, throwing his spells out of control and making anything he brewed several times stronger than anticipated. Occlumency had been the only thing to stop the powers from manifesting, and he had, with typical relish, dived into the obscure branch of magic. When his control faltered, due to emotions or because of certain potions, he could become a danger to himself and anyone around him.

Trying to distract himself from where those thoughts might lead him to, he absently fixed the beaker and placed it on the tabletop once more. He pulled the list out of the inside pocket of his robes, ignoring the spots of his own blood that dotted the page, and began to mentally plan out which he would attempt first and where he was going to get the ingredients for the sizes that the Dark Lord was asking for.