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"You called?" he raised an eyebrow, silently asking for an explanation.
Suddenly, there was a scuffling amongst the crowd of spectating Death Eaters. Bellatrix Lestrange, revealing herself underneath her black hood, stepped forward. Snape nodded to acknowledge her presence, but his eyes remained on the boy who shook with terror. It was only his mastery of Occlumency that allowed him to keep an uninterested look on his face.
Bellatrix let out a puff of air, blowing the stray hairs out of her eyes. Her words were dangerous, but her voice was lazy, "And you took your time."
Snape's face didn't change, "I don't come at your beck and call, Bella."
"Yet here you are."
He looked past her, tempted to roll his eyes, and looked at the still prisoner, who was held tightly in the grasp of former Minister of Magic, Fenwick Hawthorne.
"Is that who I think it is?"
"In the very flesh," Voldemort drawled dangerously, and Charlie's throat clogged with fear. "Exciting, isn't it? Standing before you, Severus, is the soon-to-be youngest member of our family... youngest next to Malfoy's boy, that is."
Snape's mind was racing. Charlie could tell that the Professor was shocked by this newfound information. There was something akin to pity in Snape's eyes as he looked between Charlie and Draco. When he processed Voldemort's words, warning bells went off in Snape's head.
"My Lord," he muttered hesitantly, and crimson eyes immediately fell upon him. "I must ask, are you sure this is the most adequate decision? They're children, surely they can't -"
"I believe you'll find they can be very useful, Severus," interjected Voldemort's nightmare of a voice. "Especially once you learn of what I have planned for each of them."
"N-No... please, you can't do this," Charlie croaked in a whisper as a foreboding chill ran down his spine.
For a fraction of a second, Snape's face no longer bore the hateful and scowled expression he was famous for, but instead, one of sadness and sorrow.
"Surely, there must be a better opti-"
"Nonsense!" dismissed Fenwick immediately, tugging at Charlie's wrist once more. "Silly boy, he doesn't know what he's talking about. Forgive me, my Lord. Perhaps I ought to loosen his tongue a bit?"
Voldemort's menacing grimace grew wider, "If you must."
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