Every Demon Wants His Pound of Flesh

Settle Down

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Severus sat quietly in the chair in front of the fire in his room. The grate was rather small, definitely not big enough to be part of the floo-network and not meant for more than heating up a room.

It was currently unlit, but Severus enjoyed staring into the emptiness. It helped him clear his mind at times like these. He took a whiff of the amber liquid in his glass, scrunching up his face at the awful smell. He would have to bring his own bottle of Balvenie over from Hogwarts if he planned to make it through the rest of the summer with his sanity intact.

He took a swig of the burning drink, wincing as the trash made its way down his throat. He placed the glass to the side, stood up and began pacing. The motion was a comforting one for him.

The worn carpet under his feet was red and gold, a dash of 'in your face' from Albus. However, the material was so worn and faded after so many years that it looked more brown and burgundy than anything.

He clasped his hands behind his back and stopped pacing. He stood still, letting the night air breeze in from the open window and rustled around him. He rocked on his heels and then continued to pace.

His arrival at [Bodmin] had been nothing short of shocking – the load of information that had been dumped upon him left Severus reeling and he was no longer sure which way was up. As soon as he left Hogwarts he had come here, as per Dumbledore's instructions. He had notn't been surprised to find the old man's portrait waiting for him, but the plethora of information it had to relay was overwhelming.

"Severus, my boy."

"Albus." Severus rolled his eyes. "I should have known you would have placed a portrait here." Those damn twinkling eyes. "I assume you have something important to tell me that you dragged me out here for."

"I do. I do. Please, make yourself at home. There are lemon drops on the shelf over there." He pointed at the book case. Severus sneered at it disdainfully.

"No, thank you." He did however pour himself a glass of alcohol from the table before moving to sit on the couch. He almost choked on the horrible taste. "God Albus, what the hell is this?"

"I'm not entirely sure." he chuckled "It was given to me last Christmas by the manufacturers of the Chocolate Frog cards."

Severus made a face and placed the glass to the side.

"How have you been, child? How are things at Hogwarts?"

Severus turned his eyes on to the portrait. "You're dead, Albus. How do you think they've been?"

Portrait-Dumbledore looked down at his desk. "I am sorry that I had to leave you."

"Are you?" Severus' voice was venomous.

"I am. There are tough times ahead for you."

Severus cocked a brow. "Are there?" his voice was laced with sarcasm. "How so?"

Dumbledore seemed to want to evade the question, continuing to look down. Severus found that unsettling. The real Dumbledore would never have broken eye contact when divulging any sort of information he had withheld. He had a sudden sense of foreboding. Whatever Dumbledore had ordered him for could not be good.

"I'm sorry, Severus."

Dread creeped along the edges of his stomach.

Albus' voice was strained and Severus found himself clenching his teeth, waiting for the bombshell. "You have to believe me, I'm so sorry."

"What have you done, Albus?"

If portraits could cry...Blue eyes lifted to meet obsidian as silence stretched between them. Severus asked again.

"What have you done?"

"There is so much the Dark Lord does not value, and so there are many things he cannot comprehend. Innocence. Loyalty-" his eyes pierced through Severus. "Love. Voldemort knows nothing of these. Harry, however, does. He has loyalty, he has love. His innocence left him long ago."

"No thanks to your machinations."

"Severus."

"You know it's true, Albus. You've orchestrated every event in that boy's life, testing him, pushing him to see his limitations."

"I have made many mistakes in my life."

Severus didn't honor him with an answer. He was still waiting.

"I owe you an explanation, Severus; an explanation of an old man's mistakes."

"I don't have a year to waste with your explanations."

Dumbledore ignored the jibe. "Fifteen years ago, I guessed that the scar on Harry's head meant that he and Lord Voldemort would have a connection. My biggest fear was that Voldemort would realize there was this connection forged between them. This year, Harry managed to delve so deep into the Dark Lord's mind that he alerted Voldemort to his presence. I knew it would not be long from that night until the one in which Voldemort attempted to force his way into Harry's mind, to manipulate and misdirect Harry's thoughts.

"I feared the uses to which Voldemort could put him, the possibility that he might possess him." Albus sighed deeply. Severus sat stiffly, waiting to see where he was going. So far, he had heard all this before.

"I distanced myself, thinking to protect Harry, but I only added another mark against me. I left that boy alone, that precious, brave boy...

"His godfather died, and still, I left him alone. But now it was for a different reason. Voldemort's aim in possessing Harry that night at the ministry was not an attempt to destroy me as I had originally thought. I recalled what Sirius had told me once, of Harry feeling Voldemort awake inside him the night of Arthur Weasley's attack. It was then that Voldemort realized he could use Harry. The attack at the ministry only made him aware of why Harry and he shared such a strong connection. He came to the same realization that I myself had come to only a few weeks earlier. Harry was a horcrux. By possessing him at the ministry, Voldemort had hoped I would sacrifice Harry in order to kill him.

"You see, Harry was the horcrux he never intended to make. It was too dangerous to leave a part of his soul in a vessel he could not trust. When I refused to kill Harry, he came up with a new plan. He waited to find a way to remove the piece of soul without destroying it. I do not think he found a way to do that, and so he sought control but did not succeed."

Severus was leaning forward now, elbows on his thighs, chin propped on interlocked fingers. "No he did not. But we did. We destroyed the piece of his soul in Potter."

Albus looked away, pain etched in his features. Severus felt his dread-filled stomach drop. He clenched his fingers painfully.

"We destroyed it." He repeated.

"Voldemort left a piece of his soul latched onto Harry's, unknowingly, unwillingly. For fifteen years they have been connected in a way not deemed possible."

"But we destroyed it. We killed you!"

"He took Harry's blood, believing it would strengthen him. With Lily's sacrifice flowing through his veins, every part of him was strengthened, even the piece in Harry, and wrapped their destinies together more securely then ever two wizards were joined in history."

What Albus was trying to say clicked in Severus' mind and he got to his feet, angry. "I don't believe it." he shook his head.

"The horcrux still exists. Harry is still in danger."

"No." Severus turned around, back to the portrait.

"Severus-"

"No!" He spun back around. "I will not believe that your death was in vain!"

"My death," Albus' voice was calm, and Severus wanted to rip the portrait to shreds, "was inevitable."

"No it wasn't." His voice was pleading.

"Yes, it was." Albus gazed at him sternly. "By doing what I have done-"

"You mean killing yourself." Dumbledore ignored him.

"By removing the piece of Voldemort's soul from Harry's, even for a minute, it has bought you more time to deal with the situation properly. Get rid of all the other Horcruxes first. It should have been done before, but we were short on time. Here is what you must do."

"I do not have to do anything." Severus' voice was cold.

Dumbledore looked at him, disbelief in his face, as if Severus was a petulant little boy, who had just colored all over the walls. It made the vein in Severus' temple pound that much harder.

"You do realize that the last time you asked me to do anything, it was to commit murder."

"As I hear, you were unable to do it."

"Damn right I wasn't able!" Severus threw his hands up in the air. "Of course I couldn't kill you, daft old fool! And I'm glad! Since your death apparently accomplished nothing!"

"It weakened the horcrux."

"It was supposed to destroy it!"

"Severus, please listen to me."

"No. if you've forgotten, you are dead. You cannot order me around anymore. I don't have to do anything else for you." He folded his arms in front of his chest, feeling every bit that petulant child now, although entirely justified.

"Was it really me you've been doing all this for?"

"What do you mean?"

Dumbledore raised a knowing eyebrow. His eyes turned to a vase sitting on the edge of his desk which Severus had not noticed before. He followed Albus' gaze, eyes traveling until black landed upon pure white petals. The flower was a relatively small one, but the weight of it hit Severus like a ton of bricks. It was a lily.

"She's dead too." he muttered miserably.

"But her son is not. No doubt thanks to you."

Severus scoffed.

"Help him finish his fight, Severus."

Severus shook his head. "I'm through with your tricks and manipulations, Albus."

"No more tricks."

"Said Machiavelli."

Albus chuckled at the reference. "Please Severus. Just one last mission for me. If you succeed, you'll never have to do anything for anyone again."

Severus raised an eyebrow distrustingly. "Why should I believe this will be your last request?"

"You'll have to take my word."

Severus sneered. "That's not enough."

"How can I prove it to you?" Albus held out his arms.

Severus thought for a moment, and then sat back on the couch, defeated. "You can't."

"I promise you child, this will be the last time I ask for your help."

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Harry looked around the room Snape had deposited him in. The walls were made of a beige-ish wood, tinged with grey. There was a night-table on either side of the king-size bed, made out of the same wood as the walls. Each had three double length drawers, and a light colored marble top. The entrance to the room was a few feet down on the right of the bed.

The bed itself was like one big cushion with the head and foot boards made out of a dark beige pillow-like material. The comforter and pillows were white and thick. There was a long bench at the foot of the bed made of the same material as the head and foot board. Across from the bed was a large wooden closet next to a man-sized fireplace, decorated with stone like the one in the living room. There was a marble step and a wooden mantle as well.

Looking around, Harry noticed there was no desk.

'Guess this place really is a vacation spot.' He thought. In fact, there was no other place to sit, except the bed.

The wall to the right of Harry held a few landscape photos, while the wall on the opposite side was a collection of windows. The first row held four windows, almost the height of half the wall. The two on the ends had low wooden ledges, jutting out just enough to be able to stand on them while the two middle windows were actually doors. There were four smaller square windows making up another row on top of the doors, and a long window on top of that made up of twelve smaller squares. The wood running between each window was thick and round, as if logs had been cut length-wise. The windows were formatted in a kind of upside-down 'U' in order to fit with the build of the room. Right over Harry's head, the ceiling slanted upwards sharply. There were six small, circular lights above him, supplying the only light source for the room.

All in all, it was a plain room, but in a very comforting way.

Harry shifted on the bed; the mattress contouring to fit his body. He flexed his leg muscle. The pain was disappearing a little each minute. He sighed deeply and blinked against the exhaustion crowding him. He lay still for a few minutes unable to fall asleep, or rather unwilling to. He scanned the room once more.

He could see every inch of it, yet it seemed foreboding to him. Being alone in an unfamiliar place...if he waited long enough perhaps Remus would get back before he fell asleep. As much as Harry hated to admit it, he wished he had asked Snape to stay with him.

Who was he kidding? He hated the man. Besides, he was fifteen. He didn't need someone to sleep with him. He didn't even need the lights on.

Harry rolled over and reached for the light switch next to his bed. He flicked it off and immediate darkness surrounded him, freezing him in place. The windows must have been charmed because no light shown through even though it was still daytime. Harry stayed still for a moment, surprised by the amount of darkness engulfing him; it was almost tangible. He tried to let his eyes adjust but it was taking too long. He snapped them shut, concentrating on the blood he could hear pulsing through his veins. He tried to push against the black, but it was suffocating him.

Memories began popping up in his head; murmurs pulsating at the back of his mind. Voices he could place, but seemed familiar to him, strings of Latin and thewoosh of a spell…The murmuring built in intensity and for a minute he forgot where he was. The sound of approaching footsteps sent his heart racing. His breathing quickened and he fought against the thoughts in his mind, shaking his head, attempting to clear it.

The sound of the creaking floorboards echoed in time with his pulse. The sharp squeak of the doorknob twisting and releasing caused his heart to pound and he shot up, panting heavily, as the lights flickered on.

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