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Death Song Balladeer Severus Snape stared down at the coiled length of metal that lay on Dumbledore's desk. It lay wrapped on itself like a snake; just as beautiful and just as deadly. The potions master couldn't tear his eyes away from it. He couldn't force himself to look away, despite the emotions and memories that it brought rushing back to him. His heart was a cold lump of fear in his chest, and his breathing had quickened to short, sharp gasps. "Do you know what this is, Severus?" Dumbledore asked, seriously yet gently. Snape only jerked his head sharply in affirmation. He knew all too well what it was. He had seen one before, very much like the one he looked at now. Seen it, felt it....he could remember the coldness of it. Silver. They were all silver. They couldn't be anything but, but had to be pure... "What is it?" What was it. Something of great evil. Something of pain and death and fear. It was almost alive. It certainly looked alive, glistening demurely as it lay on the desk. It looked harmless. Just a length of silver chain, about three feet long, with a loop on one end and a hook on the other. There was a design etched into the loop, an ornate vine pattern. It looked smooth and cold, but it didn't have to be cold. It could be hot...freezing hot, burning cold...and pain... "A death collar." Forged by Lord Voldemort's own hand. Only thirteen had been made, and given to his most...devoted servants. What had happened to them, Snape did not know. He could name the locations of two...three, if one counted the collar lying on the table in front of him. "I see." Dumbledore nodded. How much did the headmaster know? "It presents little danger." Snape forced himself to say. He fought to keep his voice steady, to not betray the myriad emotions that threatened to overpower him. "Unless it's owner is with it. They cannot be used by anyone but who they...bonded to." They really were practically alive. "Bonded?" Dumbledore raised an eyebrow. "Yes." Snape said. He knew the headmaster wanted more of an explanation. The sooner he explained, the sooner he could be far, far away from the offending item. "They are...torture devices." He said. "The hook is passed through the loop, forming a collar. They bond to the first person it is...used on." He knew his voice was hitching. "Only...only He Who is Not Named could activate them." Dumbledore nodded again, stroking his silvery beard. Snape was amazed at how calm he remained. He could see his reflection in a pane of glass behind the desk. He was sitting in the chair, hands folded in his lap, a blank expression on his face. He longed to run from the room, and he felt very much as though he were going to be sick. Images and sensations fought to reach the front of his mind, but he pushed them down. "Is there anything else, professor?" He asked smoothly, hoping he did not betray his desire to leave the room. "No, I think that will be all. Thank you Severus." The headmaster gave Snape a weak smile, and waved him out of the office. Snape bowed his head in acknowledgement, and smoothly rose, walking slowly and sedately out of the office. He continued through the halls of the school, down into the dungeons, until he reached his private chambers. He shut the door behind him, locking it with a wave of his wand a muttered word. He poured himself a snifter of brandy, and sank down into a large chair in front of the fire. A death collar. Here, in the school. Where had it come from? Whose was it? He still fought back the memories. Searing pain, blinding agony, and deeper then that a sort of savage pleasure. He stared into the fire, his fingers wrapped tightly around the small glass in his hand. But he did not drink. Of it's own accord, his body rose. He went directly to a large locked cabinet, which he opened without thought. Inside there was dust, and various items that had not seen the light of day in over a decade. His hand went by all of these, to press a panel at the back of the cabinet. A secret drawer sprang open. Dim light caressed plush velvet and kissed at coiled silver. Snape lifted the collar almost reverently. It was simple in design, the only decoration a single black opal on the hook. His hands caressed it, feeling the oily softness of the cold metal. He could hold it over the flames for hours and it would still be cold. He sat back down, the collar resting in his lap like a serpent. He stroked it, staring glassy-eyed into the fire. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ "Do you know what this is, Sev?" Lucius Malfoy dangled a length of silver chain in front of his room-mate's eyes. It was very pretty, with a loop on one end and a hook on the other. There was a motif of emeralds on the loop, and the name 'Malfoy' engraved on the hook. "A fancy bit of jewelry?" Severus guessed, rolling off of his stomach and closing the book he had been reading. "Something far better then that." Lucius said, softly. He sat on the bed, the chain grasped tightly in his hand. "Its a gift. From our lord and master..." "Oh?" That peaked Severus' interest. "What is it?" "It's called a death collar." Lucius smiled wickedly. "I don't think you have to use your imagination to guess what it's for." "What did you do to get it?" Severus asked, raising an eyebrow. "And are you sure you should have it in school? "You'd be surprised." Lucius said calmly. "Nothing all that monumentous. Just had to prove my devotion, that's all." The blond boy shrugged. "And I wouldn't worry about anyone catching me with it...they wouldn't know what it was, and even if they had an idea, they couldn't prove it." "What do you mean?" Severus looked at the collar, studying it. "It'll only work for me. It's mine. I've bonded it." Lucius again smiled that wicked, cruel smile. Snape didn't like that look. He had seen it before, and never had it preceded anything good or pleasant. "Bonded it?" Severus scoffed. "You talk like it's alive." "It is...in a way. Here." Lucius dropped it in Severus' lap. "Try and use it." "Use it? How?" Snape lifted it up, running his thumb over it. It felt slick...nice. It was cold and smooth, almost...he couldn't describe it. But he liked it. "Here." Lucius sighed, taking teh collar and sliding the hook through the loop, making a noose. He slipped it over his own head, tightening it and securing a small catch on the loop so it was snug around his neck. "Now take your wand and channel magic into it. A curse, to work best." Severus took up his wand, and thought of a simple pain curse, nothing too harsh. "Extrico macis!" He touched his wand to the metal. Nothing happened. "Yes?" he asked, titling his head in an exasperated gesture. "See? It won't work for you....do you want to see it, when it does work?" A deadly hiss had crept into Lucius' voice. Again, Severus knew this well. He was not surprised at all to feel Lucius' hand on his thigh, caressing lightly. "I suppose." Severus shrugged. He had the feeling he'd be getting an intimate demonstration regardless of what his answer was. Lucius gripped his thigh, his fingers digging into the flesh. Severus knew better then to protest. He'd end up doing whatever Lucius wanted, one way or another. The black haired man did nothing as Lucius slipped the collar off of his own neck, and placed it around his. He swallowed a bit as the cold metal hugged his neck. But it wasn't entirely unpleasant. The cold silver felt good around his neck, cooling on his flushed skin. Lucius' hand had remained on his thigh, and Severus was beginning to have a reaction. "Are you sure...?" Lucius whispered in his ear, his tongue darting out to outline the shell of Severus' ear. "I'm sure...now let's get on with it, hmm?" Severus tossed his head to settle the collar more comfortably around his neck. Lucius had moved to sit behind him, the loose coil of the death collar wrapped tightly in his hand. He could feel Lucius' breath on the back of his neck, his chest pressed against his back. Lucius tightened his grip on the collar, snapping Severus' head back against his shoulder. "If you're sure, Sev..." Lucius hissed, dragging his lips along Severus' neck while his hand still worked Severus' thigh. Suddenly, the collar around Snape's neck grew searing hot, stabbing daggers of fire piercing his skin and shooting through his veins. His hands went without a thought to the collar around his neck, grabbing at it to try and tear it free. His fingers dug into the flesh of his neck, trying to get beneath the silver collar around his neck. He didn't even care that he was clawing deep furrows in his own throat as he grappled with the collar, he just wanted the burning agony to stop! "Isn't it amazing...?" As soon as the pain had started, it stopped. The burning pain had faded completely. But his throat was raw from where his nails had dug into it. The silver links scraped unpleasantly against the wounds, chaffing them. "My god..." He sank down in a boneless heap as Lucius let go of the collar. He was breathing heavy, and it hurt to swallow. He loosened the collar, rubbing at his aching throat. He could barely talk, and he simply bent himself over double. Lucius caressed his back lightly, running his hands softly up and down his spine. "I told you..." Lucius rested his head against Severus' back, his hands sliding around to hold the other boy close. "Isn't it divine?" "It hurts!' Severus hissed, his throat stinging with every word. "I know....oh, I know..." Lucius' voice was a seductive whisper. "I've felt it...I had it around my own neck....he gave it to me himself...hours on end..." Lucius titled his head so his cheek nuzzled Severus' back. "It was such agonizing pleasure...it was beautiful...I could see the pain behind my eyes...it was red and violet, like rain. Hard rain....it pelted my mind...my soul...I've never felt anything so pure, so beautiful... want to share it with you Sev...I want you to feel it too..." Severus closed his eyes, one hand still rubbing his throat. He didn't know what to say. He knew that Lucius would hurt him with or without his consent. There had been something...indescribable, under the pain. It had most certainly been the most intense thing Severus had ever experienced. And considering his lover was Lucius, that was saying something. He grabbed Lucius hands, nodding distractedly. "Hmmm?" Lucius mumbled, running his cheek along Severus' back. "I want to feel it..." Severus muttered, squeezing Lucius' hands. Lucius rose up, kissing Severus' neck lightly. "It will be perfect...you'll scream from the beauty of it...god, I love your screams Sev..." Lucius nipped lightly at Severus' neck, before biting down hard. Severus gasped, biting at his lip as he felt Lucius teeth on his skin. He felt the collar tightening around his throat again. The silver now felt good against the scratches. Lucius hand strayed again to Severus' thigh, his fingers ghostly soft. Severus shifted, wishing the hand would inch upwards just a bit... The pain began again. Searing through to his very soul, a quick sharp stab of heat. It faded, leaving a dull throbbing in it's wake. Then again, the hot stab of pain that shot through his chest. It was like someone had taken a sword from the forge and driven it through him, twisting it. Never had any pain been so clear, so sharp, so real! It forced the breath out of his body in a strangled hiss, searing his throat. It was like a tidal wave, he couldn't fight against it. His heart was on fire, and a dim part of his mind noticed that wasn't the only part... The heat suddenly turned to a different kind of burning. Colder then anything he'd ever felt before, sliding along his veins. Was this what it felt like to die? The chill sweeping in on him from the inside, as though his bones and blood had frozen, sharp and biting, like a razor...but far more painful. It was so cold...shouldn't it numb him? But it didn't. Every piercing stab was as clear as a lash. And he could feel Lucius' hand on him, stroking his thigh. Such a contrast to the pain that wracked his body, the icy knives that shot through his blood. The hand on his thigh was soft...it didn't seem real. It was in another world... "It feels so good, doesn't it?" Lucius whispered. Severus couldn't answer/ Why couldn't he answer? The pain...it was almost familiar now. Why did his throat hurt? It wasn't burning cold, it was red and raw...the ice left his veins, flowing out of him. He wanted to collapse forward, but the collar kept him up. His neck and fingers were wet...why were they wet? It was a warm wetness, a sticky wetness...His body was empty, and tired. Why did his throat burn the way it did? But he had only a moment to wonder. The pain came again, just once, a dull throbbing that spread over his entire body. It was neither warm nor cold, but pure pain. He gasped, he knew he must have, but he heard no sound. Severus' body was rigid. It was as though an invisible rod was run up his back. And he could feel it. A sudden flare of pain shot up his spine, and it felt as though Lucius had run a razor up the center of his back. He yelped, the reaction causing fiery agony to bloom in his throat. He could feel the wetness on his fingers. Why were his fingers at his throat? It felt as though the skin were being flayed off of his back...and then another sensation. Lucius' hand had moved, was grasping him through his robes. But that was miles away, muted and overshadowed by the sweet, searing agony that flowed over his spine. Then it stopped. Every muscle in Severus' body screamed to fall forwards, to collapse weightlessly onto the bed. But he couldn't. The pain in his neck wouldn't let him. He couldn't feel anything, except that pain in his neck. He felt Lucius' hand come away from his hardness to grip his wrist lightly. Severus felt his hands being pulled away from his neck, felt the warm wetness trickle down his neck, into his robes. He felt Lucius' tongue on his fingers, felt him taking his fingers into his mouth and sucking them lightly. He felt his tongue on his palm, the back of his hand, his wrist... And then Lucius was in front of him...or had he been in front of him this whole time. He realized his eyes were closed...when had that happened. He opened them, and the light hurt. He closed them again, felt Lucius' lips on the pain at his throat. His tongue felt rough here, like a cats. It lapped at the warm wetness on his throat, but it hurt. Severus wanted to push away but he was held still. he felt Lucius' hand on his robes, tearing at the fastenings. The wetness was trickling down his chest, warm and unwanted. But Lucius' tongue was there, licking it up. That was all right...it was nice. But it was...pale. It was nothing. Then Lucius' lips and tongue were gone, and there was nothing but the raw fire in his throat. And a coldness there, cutting through the burning. And that coldness spread. One moment there was nothing, and then there was sensation. It covered him, enveloped him, tore him apart from the inside. Burning icicles stabbing at his brain, his heart, his lungs, his muscles. It was like...it was like a gasp of fresh air after a stifling room. It was like being coming out of a coma. He felt his body arch, and that brought more pain then he could ever imagine possible. But the pain was good, the pain was pure, it was...it was far greater then anything else that Severus had ever felt. It held him, rightly, slicing into him over and over. White and silver, fierce and sharp but so beautiful. It was like touching the face of god... Nothing else mattered. He could dimly feel other things....Lucius lips on his hardness, that wetness still trickling down his throat, the burning...but they didn't matter. All that mattered was the sweet, icy pain that ripped through every fiber of his being. Images burst inside of his eyelids, silver and white and gold. He could feel his blood, his veins, his bones, his skin...every part of him as defined and singular as if it had been outlined. He was more alive then he had ever been, and so much was clear to him now. His thoughts were images and colors, incoherent but clearer then ever before. He felt himself reaching for something, striving for something...the pain was building to a deafening crescendo within him, and he gave himself over to it... And then it was gone. All sensation had fled. He sunk forward, and he felt an empty ache inside of him. He curled up on his side in the fetal position, wondering where the colors and the pain had gone. And the wetness....he wanted it gone. It was so...base. He felt Lucius take him in his arms, but that didn't matter. He felt a new wetness on his cheeks, and he didn't like that either. "Any more and your heart would have burst." Lucius said. His voice was far away and meant nothing. So what if his heart had burst? It would have been better then this... "So...beautiful...." Severus croaked. His voice was like sandpaper, and he could barely force the words out of his mouth. He felt the coldness being take off of his neck, and felt a sudden something on his neck. His throat felt better. "I know. I know..." Lucius whispered. "And it only gets better..." ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Snape's hands were on his throat, touching lightly. The scars were still there, barely visible. Deep gashes all down his throat, from where he had clawed his own neck. He had almost bled to death... //The pain.// The pain had been incredible. But nothing compared to the pain Lord Voldemort could bestow...Lucius had been a child, not comprehending the true treasure he had. But Voldemort...he knew how to draw it out, to keep the victim alive for hours on end...that was how they were bonded. It had been nearly a year before Snape had thought himself ready to endure the trial. Many failed, and some died. But Snape had trained....with Lucius. Every day...it had become an addiction. He *needed* the pain. How had he ever gotten himself out of it? Ah yes....by inflicting it on others. It was almost as sweet... He had learned it well. He had studied the body, every part of it. His ability with the collar rivaled even that of the Dark Lord. How many had fallen beneath that simple length of chain? Fallen screaming and clawing, their eyes blank and their minds gone. The pain didn't have to be pleasure. It could be worse...Snape had learned with the right curses you could control what the victims saw. What they felt. It had been like the face of god for him...and for those in his power, it had been the hands of the devil. Even now, nothing was the way it should be. Sunlight had never seemed as bright, air never as sweet. Sex had lost all meaning, though it was the closest thing Snape had ever come to recapturing those brilliant sensations. Even pain was nothing. Sometimes, late at night when the emptiness was unbearable, he would draw a knife along his inner arm, and watch the blood trickle away. It was nothing. It didn't hurt...not really. It was an inconvenience, nothing more. And still he longed for the sweet pain again, those crystal images behind his eyes...if he was ever taken, ever left to the mercy of the Death Eaters, he could only pray they would take his life with a death collar. Sighing, Snape tipped back the brandy, and returned the Death Collar to where it was stored. He considered turning it into Dumbledore, but thought against it. It would never be used again. Unless he found a way to use it on himself... Forcing the memories back into the depths of his mind, he tried to focus on trivial things as he stripped off his robes and climbed into bed. The fourth years had a paper due. The fifth years would start learning advanced poisons. The first years were all a bunch of bumbling idiots. Rolling over, mentally categorizing the stocks of his office, Snape slid into an uneasy, haunted sleep. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~ |