Disclaimer: I don't own anything.

Warning: Will contain explicit scenes later.

The Black Apple

Chapter 1: Post Mortem

In the middle of nowhere there was a ruin where an old scrap factory used to be, ceased to nothing but a circular drain in the middle of a slab of concrete spanning a vast three hectares. This circular drain is a disguise. In a different world, the ruins become walls, reaching to five levels from the surface and descending underground another six, farming rooms of people; rooms overflowing when it could reasonably only hold half of what was in there. For weeks their breaths, their sweat, growing rank, were the only smells that circulated the air, making the walls clammy and damp and drip. This of course invited rats and all sorts of bugs and pests to reside in their already stuffy dwelling. Sometimes they would bite when terribly hungry, but nothing but a good kick could fix. They knew all too well it was the only thing they would see for a while. Those who tried to escape, well, never did get past the trying. Most people hoped, dreamed, waited for a miracle, a savior. The rest retired from such wishful thinking and accepted a hopeless reality of life without another sunrise. There was no miracle. The miracle had died.

It had been three months since Harry Potter's downfall.

"Marylin Jones was discovered yesterday. She's expecting," the blond young man said casually in a low voice; his patrolling companion beside him nodded indifferently and continued stalking the quiet walkway. On either side were doors with a barred window on eye level and inside, people who were drugged every night during the last meal for the day so it would be less of an annoyance to those who watched them at this hour.

"My father said… well… Severus," the young man continued hesitantly. The depression of lines on his remarkably handsome and marble like features became prominent when it hit the light and added a few years on him, however the older of the two was reminded of the snobby little boy he had taught years ago. To him, he may have looked older and more experienced, and that he may be, but he was a still at heart, at mind, a boy and knew few things and could handle less. "Is it true?"

Severus sighed, his shoulders slacking as they reached the end of the walkway, waiting just at the door for the next pair of patrollers to replace them.

"She is a muggle born and the father is a muggle, the child was worthless from the start. Part muggle, and at that age is not useful to anybody. How did she think she was going to hide such a bump without magic?"

The young man still struggled to comprehend and had to force his voice not to shake. "So we're just going to abort it? Murder a child about to be born."

"One quick flick of the wrist and neither the child nor the mother will feel pain," Severus replied quietly.

"Why don't we just kill everyone then?" The young man hissed angrily.

"Remember our job is to separate the able workers from the useless and the weak; the old, barren women to the young, fertile women."

"This is… it's like a farm! We're treating them like cows! It's evil!" said the other with indignation.

"It's what we do here!" Severus spat in anger and in a lower voice but with equal ferocity continued, "It's what we have been doing. Where have you been Draco? The Dark Lord hasn't forgotten. You were lucky once but you still need to prove to him you're worthy. One of these days, you will not be able to shirk your obligations as a Deatheater and no one will be able to help you. When that time comes you must remember that this is not a charity Draco. This is quarantine."

They heard footsteps behind the door and Severus quickly threw it open revealing two men, one taller and masculine with an unattractive face mostly caused by scarring and the other a more sophisticated, slender man in tailored, clean robes and with very agreeable features.

Severus acknowledged them with curt nods, "Mcnair. Avery," before he swiftly strode past them with the sharp clicking of his boots, leaving Draco to make his own way to the surface. The building was made up on the upper floors, as a temporary residence for those employed at certain times. The deatheater quarters remained at Malfoy Manor and they, the elite followers, were usually always there. They would travel back and forth from London to this building, its exact whereabouts only known to Voldemort, via portkey. As for London the muggle parts hadn't changed, only the wizarding world. Voldemort's aim was not to obliterate all muggles; that would have been impossible. Maybe hunt a few down and torture them for pleasure's sake, but his endevour was to eliminate, exploit and or breed out those with muggle blood. It was to be a new era of magical purebloods.

Once Severus had returned from the underground he made his way to the upper floors of the building, towards the parlor where he found Draco's father sitting by the fire observing his cane. When he detached the snake head, there was his wand, whole again.

"What are you doing here?" Severus asked Lucius as he advanced directly to the bar, poured himself a glass of whiskey and took a long swig, too quickly and too much that it felt like a hole burnt right in the middle of his throat. Lucius returned fit the wand in the cane and looked up at his friend.

"Narcissa's upset with me and threatened to sever my penis and feed it to Nagini," Lucius said smirking in amusement. Severus grinned.

"What, pray tell, preceded to such an unpleasant threat?" He asked, putting an elbow on the counter and slacking towards it.

Lucius pointed to a purplish bruise on his neck just under his ear.

"She found a hickey on my neck. Before I did. I should take you there one day… The Black Apple. Britains finest and most secret wizarding brothel. The place is truly magical."

"Trust me Lucius I'm very capable of finding my way there without an escort."

"The girls are quite remarkable, they know their sport. I could just sit down and observe them gallivanting around in corsets and flimsy little panties, lolling on dark velvet duvets, twisting their pretty hair and it would suffice… How long has it been old friend?"

"Not that it's any of your business… too long."

"Wait any longer and webs will be growing around your vagina."

Severus grinned before downing and emptying his glass. Lucius though several years older than him, looked ten years younger. He was striking with his aristocratic features, platinum blonde hair and ageless pale skin. Severus, on the contrary, who was not even in his forties, had an intruiging face most wouldn't normally find conventionally handsome. The first thing one would see was the large protruding Roman nose, slightly shaped like a beak. He had emotionless pitch black eyes, bottom crooked yellow teeth and a curled lip. His gaunt sallow face, the dark around his eyes implied stress and lack of sleep and the greasy raven hair that curtained his face added to his unapproachable character.

Lucius continued the conversation in a languid tone, "I told her it was for business. She didn't listen to me. But it's true, well half true… couldn't resist the feather boa. I had been sent to deal with the merchants and it seems the demand is at large. The Dark Lord has decided to sell some of our finest young women."

"Isn't he rich enough?" said Severus smirking, his eyebrow inclined; a prized habit of his.

"Proceeds go to us of course… along with special privileges. He's quite generous if you ask me," Lucius said admiring the rings on his fingers as if he needed more.

Severus then turned away from his friend, returning the bottle to its shelf and scourgifying the glass he used before that too was put away. He heard Lucius behind him notifying they would start choosing tomorrow. Lucius was one of those people you loved to hate but there was a certain air about him that kept drawing you in. For years Severus kept ties with him, regardless of the fact he was Draco's godfather, all the while hating his ignorant ambitions, superficial beliefs and ridiculous logic that never agreed with his.

The next day Severus descended the underground to find Lucius peering into one of the doors. He then saw Severus and greeted him a cheerful good morning to which he curtly nodded in reply. A door near the end threw open and out stumbled three young girls all dressed in a yellowish brown pillow case looking attire that was once white. Following behind was Avery in his pin striped suit and leather cloak holding a small girl by the arm while she was weeping. Rudolphus threw another door wide open, the opposite room from Avery's.

"Out. Quickly," he ordered. He was taller than all four of them with brown muddled hair and a short boxed beard and overall grungy looking like his former wife Bellatrix. Two girls scampered out with curled backs, cowering from the frightening deatheather.

Soon the room was bursting echoing sounds of women's cries and pleas from inside and outside their cells and Severus could not help but watch as one by one, four by four, and more and more were lead outside and lined up.

"Severus, stop standing there ogling. Here," Lucius reprimanded shoving into his hands several parchments. He heard from somewhere in the line a sound of something breaking, one of the men loudly cursing and a sharp splitting sound like someone had been striked on the face. Severus eyed the short girl in front of him. She had fiery red hair, freckles across her face, death white skin, and green eyes that had a dullness and hollowness to it.

"Name," he said.

"Alice Rabbit."

The parchment before him flipped by itself towards the end and her name turned red. Next to Alice Rabbit were a few other details. It read: 2 August 1981, Father: Muggle, Mother: Witch, Blood: Half blood. He read the birthdate again.

"How old are you?"

"Sev-seventeen," the girl stuttered quietly, her voice cloggy as her wet nose, before she started sobbing into her hands again. Yesterday Alice Rabbit was sixteen. She was a minor. Some of these girls, no doubt most were still in their teens but as much as he wanted to stop this he knew he couldn't. Severus moved to the next girl, then the next, making his way into the line. He came across girls he knew. Someone even called him professor and grabbed his arm pleadingly to which he yanked her hand away. He couldn't look them in the eye knowing what was about to happen.

"Name."

"Granger. Hermione Granger."

Severus' blood ran cold at the sound of that voice. It sounded broken and hopeless. Slowly, Severus lifted his eyes from the red name on the parchment and the sight stole his breath.