Chapter Text
Severus had been enjoying a lovely Sunday evening in his cottage, sipping tea and planning out his next month of potions lessons. Two months into teaching potions, and he had both gained and lost respect for Slughorn as a teacher. When Severus was a student, he had never noticed when Slughorn glossed over the theory behind potions or why certain actions or ingredients impacted the potions the way they did—he assumed that those things were as obvious to everyone else as they always had been to him.
Now that he is teaching, however, he has learned that most students don't know the why behind any of it; they simply follow the instructions and hope for the best. He has spent the last two months trying to get the students caught up on potions theory, and it still hasn't been enough to undo the years of Slughorn's lax teaching methods. Unfortunately, he doesn't have any more time to waste on reviewing. The students will have to be ready to move on to new material if they want any hope of being prepared for their exams.
Since he had initially planned to spend only two weeks on review, he now found himself in the unenviable position of needing to rework all of his lesson plans to make up for the lost time. And so here he was, spending his Sunday night working on lesson plans and trying to relax before a busy day of teaching tomorrow.
And he had been enjoying his quiet evening alone—right up until the blasted mark on his arm began to burn.
'A summons,' he thought, sighing heavily.
Severus rose slowly. Reluctantly, he collected his parchment and corked his ink. He brought his cup of cooling tea to his lips a final time. Another sigh escapes him as he leaves the room, collecting his Death Eater robes and mask as he goes.
He will never understand how the Dark Lord always chooses the absolute worst times to summon him. It's not like the man doesn't know that Severus has classes to prepare for. So, why did the Dark Lord need to call him now, on Halloween, knowing that in less than 12 hours he would need to teach a room full of sleep-deprived, over-sugared teenagers who can barely listen on a good day?
The meeting is relatively dull at first, though Severus takes mental note of locations and times as the Death Eaters each receive their assignments. One by one, their numbers dwindle as The Dark Lord sends them off until only a few are left: Bellatrix, Lucius Malfoy, and himself. Internally groaning, Severus steps forward to receive his own assignment, not particularly wanting to be stuck with either one of them.
"And you, Severus—" The Dark Lord murmurs, "—you shall accompany me on my mission."
Before he can process the words, the importance of such a task, Bellatrix downright growls at him. Severus casts her a surprised glance as she stalks up to The Dark Lord, already seething. The Dark Lord simply looks at her placidly, mouth contoured into a vile smirk.
"Why would you take him? Insufferable little boy, hardly a man at all! Why don't you take me, my lord? You know how loyal I am…"
The Dark Lord’s smirk spreads into a malicious grin. Severus has to focus to prevent himself from flinching as the older man speaks.
"Do not question me, Lestrange," he murmurs, as the grin slips from his face, "I do nothing without reason, this included. Your loyalty is most appreciated but unneeded."
"But—"
"DO. NOT. QUESTION. ME," The Dark Lord bellows, and everything in Severus wants to run. Bellatrix visibly wilts, Lucius flinches, and Severus stays stock still, hardly breathing.
"Fine," Bellatrix breathes, moving back into position. The Dark Lord grins again, giving out the final assignment: a joint mission between Bellatrix and Lucius, who shortly apparate away, leaving Severus alone with The Dark Lord. Said Dark Lord explains their task before silently offering an arm for Severus to take, apparating the instant it is taken.
Though he has apparated many times, Severus is not used to apparating alongside another—least of all, The Dark Lord himself. When they land, Severus grips The Dark Lord's arm slightly and leans towards him in order to steady himself. The second he realizes, he releases the arm, stepping away and coughing to prevent The Dark Lord from seeing his discomfort. The other man ignores him, crossing the street in front of them.
It is then that Severus looks around to assess where they are. It is some neighborhood decorated for Halloween. At this time of night, no Muggle children are wandering with their parents for sweets. He sighs internally, following The Dark Lord in slight indignation. Severus's evening was long gone.
The plan was simple: Severus would knock on the door, and The Dark Lord would kill the blood traitors who lived there. It was simple, it was easy… it didn't make sense to take him. He approaches the house as The Dark Lord hides nearby, knocking politely yet loudly. He can hear steps, a male voice calling to another, then the creak of the knob as the door swings open.
"James?"