Chapter 11: Wicked Ways
It was not uncommon for Severus to encounter someone that he did not like—for he held an amount of disdain for nearly everyone in his acquaintance—however, it was uncommon for him to dislike someone as thoroughly as he did Albus Dumbledore before he had even met the man. Why, how dare the man turn down a lucrative offer and demand that Severus pack up Harry and bring the boy to London! No matter how adamantly he argued that it was best Harry remain at Spinner's End, Dumbledore remained ever steadfast in his addlebrained plan to educate the boy in London. Were it not for Lupin's insistence that Dumbledore was a brilliant educator, Severus would have let the old fool know in no uncertain terms that he did not care for being ordered about. In the end, he had given in only for Harry's sake.
Traveling to London was not something to be taken lightly. Though the Dursleys had made no move to reclaim Harry, it was doubtful that they were simply going to allow Severus to have the boy without a fight. If what he had learned thus far was correct, it would stand to reason that there was a great sum of money involved. Severus was taking no chances. He had instructed Lupin to list the child's name as "Harold Figg" for the time being and request that Dumbledore keep his silence about the boy. Also, there was the matter of where Harry and the rest of the entourage would reside. Taking them to his London residence was not a wise move. He did question what Victoria would do if she were in any way involved, and he did not trust his wife. In the end, Severus had purchased a modest townhouse. Hermione would act as mistress of the house, and no one would be the wiser to Severus' involvement. All in all, it was a dreadful amount of work, and that did not even include the most trying part of the ordeal.
Harry did not like the idea of leaving Spinner's End. The boy had thrown himself into a fine display of stubborn, childish hysterics when Seamus had begun packing. Harry ripped his clothing from the valise quicker than the manservant could get them in it. Even Hermione could not get him to settle down. The boy was well and truly angry—an emotion that had shown through quite eloquently as Severus was forced to carry him out of the room like a sack of grain trussed over his shoulder. He had expected Harry to draw away in fear, but instead was treated to a green-eyed glare that would have rivaled even his own.
By the time Severus was seated in the headmaster's office alongside Lupin, it was easy to see that he really and truly did hate Dumbledore. The bespectacled old man had arrived nearly ten minutes late for his own meeting and had the gall to begin not with an apology but by offering the lord a lemon drop.
"Lord Snape," Dumbledore began after the introductions were made, "I do have quite a few questions in regard to your demand for secrecy. I will not allow you to make a mockery of this school, my lord."
Lupin shot Severus a look. He obviously trusted the headmaster and thought Severus should do the same. For some unknown reason, Severus found himself relying on the physician's judgment. "Harry's story is not a particularly happy tale," he began solemnly. "You must swear your absolute silence on this matter. I don't doubt that Harry's life may be in danger if you do not."
"You do not strike me as a man to say such things without a very firm reason," the old man observed.
"He is not," Lupin agreed. "In fact, Lord Snape and I have both seen what kind of atrocities the boy has already survived. Albus, I implore you: listen to Lord Snape."
A bit of the twinkle left the headmaster's blue eyes, and he set aside his half-moon spectacles. He motioned for Severus to begin. By the end of his story, Dumbledore looked quite saddened, though unsurprised.
"I wish that I could say I had never heard a tale of abuse upon a deaf child such as this," he said, shaking his head. "However, if there is greed involved, I do agree that an evil man will go to near any lengths. You are quite right to keep this to yourselves. I swear that I shall tell no one—not even my staff."
"Surely you see why I must ask that Harry receive his lessons in private," Severus pointed out. "Keeping Harry at Spinner's End would have been a much better solution."
Dumbledore did not seem to mind Severus' abrasive nature. "My lord, do you have any idea how intensive teaching language to someone who has none can be? Harry is already to a point where I highly doubt he will ever progress as far as he might have. I am almost certain—if he is truly attentive as you say—that we can help him, but how much remains to be seen. He will require a very large portion of time from the teachers here, and mind you, we haven't enough of those as it is. I simply cannot send my best professors off to Richmond to remain at your residence. That said, I do believe we will be able to arrange some sort of schedule."
"Very well," Severus said finally. "When can they begin?"
"Tomorrow. I shall send one of my best teachers and a young man on his way to becoming one." Dumbledore stood behind his desk. "I should like to meet this boy, as well. If you've no objections, I might come along."
"None," Severus assured him. "I do thank you for your time."
Severus felt only slightly better about the situation as he left the school. Despite Dumbledore's words and Lupin's assurances, he was uncomfortable having Harry in London. So uncomfortable, in fact, that he had brought along two of the burliest groomsmen from his estate for the sole purpose of keeping a watchful eye on the house.
As the carriage lurched to a halt before the newly acquired townhouse, Severus noticed Harry's form in one of the windows. Even from a distance, he could see the wonderment on the boy's features as he watched the carriages passing by on the street below. When he finally noticed Severus, Harry waved excitedly. As usual, he knew nothing of the turmoil and tension around him. How could he know? Soon, though, he would understand everything, and god be with them when that day came.
Hermione met Severus the very moment he passed through the door. "What did the headmaster say?" she asked wringing her hands.
"They will be here tomorrow afternoon. Do what you can to see that Harry is on his best behavior. Remus is already on his way home, and I shall be spending the majority of my time with my wife. You are to remain in charge here. While Dumbledore knows the truth, we have agreed that his staff shall know nothing of Harry's true identity. You will stick to the story we practiced. Is that clear?" he demanded.
Miss Granger nodded. "Will you not be here at all?"
"Very little," Severus replied shortly. "I will stop in tomorrow night if I have a chance." He straightened his jacket. "Good day, Miss Granger."
Her eyes widened. "You mean that you aren't even going to visit Harry?"
"That is exactly what I mean. There is simply no point in it," he said.
Unfortunately his answer only infuriated the nursemaid. "How can you be so uncaring? Harry absolutely adores you, and you've rarely spent an hour with him in the past two weeks. I can tell he misses you. Why are you ignoring him?"
"I am not Harry's father, Miss Granger. I will not give him the false impression that I care for him more than for his well being. Now, again, Miss Granger—Good day."
Severus didn't wait to hear what impassioned reply the young miss would have for him. He doubted he could stomach it. After all, he had his dear wife to look forward to that same day.
Luckily, when he did arrive at his Governor's Square home, he found that Victoria had gone to a country party with the Malfoys and would not return for three days. He was quite thankful for the reprieve, but that did not solve all of his problems. Feeling the need for some kind of release, Severus set out that night not long after finding Victoria gone. Again, he was about to take the advice of Lucius Malfoy.
Madame Delacour's was a luxurious haven for any man of substantial means and an appetite for all manners of sexual pleasure. There were many members of the ton who found their desires within Madame Delacour's chambers. Severus was taken by surprise by the sheer elegance of the house as he stepped through the door. He was so busy admiring the chandelier above that he almost failed to notice the scantily clad young woman coming to greet him.
Naked to the waist and wearing nothing more than a gossamer wrap and a pair of silk stockings, she curtseyed primly. "Good evening, my lord. I am Hannah. Might I assist you?" she asked in a throaty voice.
Taking a card from his pocket, he handed it to her. "I require a word with Madame Delacour."
"Very well. If you would please wait here, I will go see if Madame has time for you this evening," came the practiced reply.
Severus sneered at her as her form retreated up the polished stairs. He spotted a few near-naked women coming and going from room to room, as well as a few gentlemen. One patron was decidedly familiar to Severus as he spotted him on the arm of a fetching brunette.
"Lord Snape, old man, so very good to see you," a drunken Sir Barnaby Thomas slurred enthusiastically.
Severus gave a curt nod in way of greeting. "Sir Barnaby."
"You know, I don't think I've ever seen you here before, Snape," the idiot blathered on. "I assure you, you will find whatever kind of woman you fancy here." He gave the brunette a squeeze. "Can't have little Liza tonight though, I'm afraid."
"I am crushed at the mere thought," Severus drawled.
Liza seemed to think that she had found herself a new patron and batted her eyes seductively. "There is always tomorrow night, my lord," she simpered
Just in time, Severus spotted Hannah making her way down the stairs. "Madame Delacour will see you now," she announced.
Sir Barnaby's eyes widened. "You must be paying a bloody fortune for that!"
"Good evening," Severus replied as he began up the stairs.
Madame Delacour's private salon was exquisitely appointed. Rich Persian rugs lined the floor, and the gilded glitter of gold was all about the room. Madame Delacour herself was no less pleasing to the eye. Her simple silk robe fell about creamy shoulders and was in contrast to her ornately arranged silvery hair.
"Lord Snape, I am quite 'appy to make your acquaintance. Eet iz an honor to 'ave a man of your stature in my 'umble establishment," the madame purred seductively. Even though all of the brazenness of her attire, it was obvious that Madame Delacour had come from noble blood. It was whispered that Madame Delacour's whole family had been executed on the guillotine and that she had only been spared because of her "talents." Though they may disdain all things French, many an English blue blood had offered her a fortune to use those very same charms as his mistress. Refusing one and all, she had set about creating one of the finest pleasure houses the whole of Britain had to offer.
Severus was not in the mood for games. "I have been told that you cater to all tastes. Is this true, madame?"
The blonde's eyes lit up. "I 'ave something for everyone. Tell me, mon chèr, what are your desires?"
"I prefer men."
"Zhat is simple enough, but you want more zhan just a man, non?" she suggested with a laugh. "I zhink you know exactly what you would like."
"I wish to see what you have," Severus said, willing away the urge to ask for a dark haired innocent with green eyes. Yes, Madame Delacour was quite right when she assumed that he knew what he would want. By God, he knew what he wanted!
"As you wish, my lord," she agreed. Madame Delacour clapped her hands, and a young woman, who bore a striking resemblance to the madame, entered the room. "Gabrielle, fetche les hommes pour moi."
The younger woman bowed. "Oui."
"My lord, please allow me to take you to zhe parlor."
Severus followed Madame Delacour to a room just down the hall. A velvet lined settee and a chilled bottle of champagne were waiting for them. Along the end of the room, a red curtain hung from floor to ceiling with two young women at either end. Pouring two glasses of the sparkling liquid, Madame Delacour invited him to sit.
"I do not bring jus' anyone 'ere, Lord Snape. Zhis is my private viewing room. what iz behind zhat curtain will not be bought cheaply. Do you understand?" she asked as she handed him a glass.
Severus sneered. "If you fulfill my requirements, I am more than willing to pay."
The answer seemed to satisfy her, and she motioned for the girls to open the curtain. What lay behind the folds of crimson fabric was nothing less than an erotic fantasy. Eleven men, ranging from sixteen to thirty, from the fairest blonde to the most exotic brunette stood in all stages of dishabille. Some wore rouge and powder, giving them a feminine look, while others dressed in black breeches and unbuttoned shirtsleeves, showcasing masculine physiques. The rumors were true: Madame Delacour did have something for every desire. Severus set aside his glass and moved toward the "merchandise." He studied each one carefully, dismissing those he did not find appealing. First went the painted beauties and then the blondes. He was nearly ready to give up when he saw exactly what he was looking for.
The young man could have passed for Harry's brother, the resemblance was so great. Petite of stature and fair skinned, Severus nearly missed him as he examined the other men, but as soon as he spotted the boy, all the others no longer matted. This young man had the same delicateness about his features and the same messy black hair. Severus put a finger beneath the boy's chin. "Let me see your eyes."
Sadly, the eyes that stared back at him were not green at all, but a light golden brown. "Do you like what see, my lord?" he asked in quiet cultured tones.
"I would like to employ this boy's nightly services until farther notice. During this time, I am willing to pay to ensure that I am the only client he sees," Severus stated plainly. He pulled an envelope from his jacket and handed it to Madame Delacour.
Madame Delacour's eyes widened as she looked over the bank draft. "For zhis amount you could 'ave 'ad all of mes hommes, my lord," she said in an amused voice. "Very well. Gabrielle will take you to zhe finest chamber we 'ave, and ee will meet you zhere."
Gabrielle took him to yet another door. "My lord, next time you arrive, simply ask for me, and I will see to whatever you require."
Behind the door, the young man was waiting for him. He had already shed his shirt revealing a porcelain-skinned chest that bore no signs of manhood. Moving like a cat, he spread out on the bed, offering the lord the best view of what he had purchased. "I was hoping you would pick me, my lord," he said huskily. "My name is Daniel."
Severus regarded the boy critically. There was something that didn't fit with his fantasy, and he instantly knew what it was. Removing his coat and tossing it upon a chair, Severus motioned for the boy to come to him. When mere inches separated them, Severus moved his fingers to Daniel's hair. "I assume that your other clients have had requests for you in the past."
Daniel nodded. "I am yours to command, my lord."
"Good," Severus murmured. Again, he wished that Daniel's eyes had been green. "After tonight, I wish for you never to speak in my presence again."
"I must say that is one that I have never heard before. You wish for my silence when we are in bed?" Daniel asked with raised eyebrows.
"No. Make whatever sounds you wish, but do not speak. Also, I want you dressed when I arrive. Do you remember what it was to be an innocent?" the lord asked provocatively.
Daniel laughed. "Vaguely, but I do believe that if it is the illusion of innocence that you require that I can be what you wish."
"How old are you?" Severus asked. Though youthful looking, there was a maturity about Daniel that was almost startling. In comparison to Harry's, Daniel's eyes made him seem to be ancient.
"Twenty-two. Is that problem, my lord?"
Severus shook his head.
Sitting up, Daniel moved his hands boldly to Severus cravat and began undoing the knot. "What do you wish of me tonight, my lord?"
A wolf like grin spread across Severus' face. "For tonight show me that you are not innocent."
And Daniel did just that. His mouth and fingers were equally skilled. It was obvious that he saw love making as more of an art than a necessity. He was far more talented in bed than Lockhart had ever been. Were it not for the image of emerald eyes in his mind, he did not doubt that he would have been taken to the heights of ecstasy. How was it that Harry should seem more erotic than Daniel could ever?