Severus only heard the Dark Lord say something before he drifted off into unconsciousness again. Before losing consciousness, he knew he was in deep trouble.
Death Eaters without value were to be executed. Although it was never done openly, a Killing Curse could be cast at any moment and brushed aside with an excuse of incompetence, and the matter would be settled.
The previous Dark Lord had always done things this way, and Severus had frequently witnessed such events.
"...Severus?"
The Dark Lord looked at the waking Potions Master, handing over a glass of water along with a Muggle pill.
"Lord."
When Severus was awake, he was always that calm, self-contained, impeccably loyal double agent in the presence of the Dark Lord.
As he frantically racked his brain for a way to survive, he saw the pill held out right in front of his eyes.
He didn't dare hesitate, nor did he take the water glass; he swallowed it dry.
Lord Voldemort silently watched Severus's pale face—the one he had spent seven years nursing back to health...
With a flick of his wrist, the water in the cup splashed onto Severus's face, the droplets tracing the curves of his cheeks before vanishing into his hair and the bedclothes.
"Lord, I am deeply sorry." Severus pressed his lips together, rolling over to try and climb off the bed. Lord Voldemort's crimson eyes stared down at him.
The tips of his toes barely brushed the floor when Severus's legs turned to jelly, and he collapsed to the ground.
No, it shouldn't be like this.
Severus thought that as a double agent and a Potions Master, he couldn't afford to be this useless.
Was it the Dark Lord's spell?
Or was it his punishment?
Severus did not know.
The tyrannical urge in Lord Voldemort's heart was growing almost too strong to suppress. He yanked Severus's robe, and with a sharp click, heavy shackles locked around both wrists.
Soon, a collar was locked around his neck as well, attached to a short chain that led all the way to a leash held in the Dark Lord's hand.
Severus closed his eyes slightly as the world blurred and spun before him in hallucinations, his body alternating between waves of freezing cold and burning heat.
The gathering had been canceled just before the notice went out, and the Dark Lord secretly rejoiced that he had been a step slower.
If he had been even a bit faster, Abraxas would have already sent out the notifications.
The toll of a fragmented soul was indeed immense, Lord Voldemort thought. He needed to expedite the mending of his soul; potions of this sort could be left to Severus.
This was a vital and perilous potion, and he hoped Severus would pull his punches.
Suppressing the urge to kill simmering in his heart, the Dark Lord cast a Scouring Charm on Severus.
Without a word, he pulled Severus toward him, pinning him down beneath his body.
Severus was forced to lift his chin as he lay flat on the bed.
This time he had not been entirely unprepared, so an hour later, when Lord Voldemort carried Severus off to clean him up, he still had a sliver of strength left and tried to push him away.
Lord Voldemort carried him into the warm pool of water, massaging Severus's shoulders, back, waist, and legs. Severus kept his head lowered in silence, uttering not a single word.
A damp kiss landed on the back of Severus's neck, followed by Lord Voldemort gently nibbling him with his teeth. This bout of intimacy left no marks behind, and Severus found it somewhat easier to accept.
"Lord..."
The Dark Lord washed Severus's hair, used a Drying Charm, and wrapped him in a bath towel before carrying him back to the bedroom.
The young Potions Master lacked the exhaustion of his later years, but he still frequently wore a scowl. Lord Voldemort was used to it, merely letting Severus's lips lightly brush against his cheek in passing.
Soft, like a weightless little bat, without an ounce of meat on his entire body.
Yet even a young bat possessed sharp teeth and claws; it would take but a single touch to deal a fatal blow.
The first time Abraxas had stumbled upon Severus covered in marks, he had been slashed across the cheek by one of Severus's Sectumsempras. Abraxas hadn't paid it much mind at the time, hastily casting a pain-relief and blood-stopping spell on himself.
But after tossing some clothes to Severus, once the spell wore off, the sharp, piercing pain horrified him. When he found a mirror, he realized the wound showed not the slightest sign of healing.
Abraxas: ! ! ! ! !
His face!
Without this face, his wife would throw him out onto the street!
After trying countless methods with zero results, a desperate Abraxas went to knock on Severus's door. Only after Severus opened it did he finally learn the true effect of the spell.
Abraxas: (???)?ノ! ! !
Abraxas had felt thoroughly unwell at the time, though thankfully Severus stopped the bleeding for him—which only shocked Abraxas all the more.
Whether it was Sectumsempra, which bore an uncanny resemblance to the Fourth Unforgivable Curse, or its powerful white-magic counter-curse, Episkey, neither was something an ordinary young wizard could cast, let alone invent!
The principle behind Episkey was to force blood to flow backward into the wound while knitting the flesh together—it was a remarkably versatile piece of advanced white magic.
Lord Voldemort let the exhausted Severus fall asleep while he contacted a physician. Not only Severus, but he himself needed treatment as well.
...
"Your condition isn't very severe, but because your magic is so immense, it's much easier for it to spiral out of control."
After a thorough examination, Mikkelsen gave Lord Voldemort this verdict. The Dark Lord nodded. "How do it fix it?"
"Simple. Unicorn tears, powder ground from the shed horn of a young unicorn, mandrake, and phoenix tears. As the Dark Lord, you should be able to get your hands on those, shouldn't you?" Mikkelsen said casually, and Lord Voldemort replied just as readily.
"I have them all in stock."
Half a month later, Lord Voldemort was fully healed.
"No new injuries have appeared, which is good. But you still must be careful not to let him use Occlumency too frequently."
"Good."
This wasn't something Lord Voldemort could entirely control, but if he refrained from using Legilimency on Severus and tried his best to avoid eye contact with him, it should reduce how often he needed to resort to Occlumency...
The herbal bath mixture ordered from East Asia was about to arrive, and Lord Voldemort intended to send Abraxas to handle the handover. Just then, Severus woke up.
"It's right down by the docks. Make sure to take a few extra men—that cargo is crucial, and absolutely no one must be allowed to intercept it."
"Understood, Voldy."
Severus, half-conscious, caught wind of this news, and a faint jolt of alarm went through his heart.
It reminded him of that accident back in his fifth year.
That damned Potter was as foolish and arrogant as ever in his memories. When he was studying with Lily, the bastard had somehow set his sights on her again.
That thieving idiot and his hated Troll-like accomplices always interrupted them midway through his studies with Lily.
He was like an impossible-to-shake mosquito that couldn't quite be squashed, buzzing incessantly around Lily.
Sometimes he would round up four or seven Gryffindors just to cause trouble for him. After getting beaten black and blue by Severus, they would resort to underhanded tricks the next time, driving Severus to distraction.
Lily loathed that Potter just as much; he stuck to her like cheap molasses, impossible to shake off. Even though she explicitly told him how much she despised him, he still shamelessly clung on.
Potter had good grades, but he loved bullying his classmates. Every House had students who had been picked on by him, while Severus stood out for his combat prowess, taking on all four Marauders by himself.