Chapter 17: The Taking of Euphemia Rowle

"You're Thorfinn's little cousin."

"Not so little," she said, strolling next to him on the road. Her arm brushed against his with an overt linger. Snape wondered what Thorfinn would say if he saw his little cousin playing the coquette with Snape.

What Euphemia's cousin lacked in brains, he made up for in size. Though Thorfinn had joined the Death Eaters straight out of Hogwarts five years ago, he was not often invited to the Dark Lord's roundtables, a fact he brought up increasingly as Snape had already attended several.

"What's he like?" Euphemia asked.

"Your cousin? Not much changed, I'm afraid. It's likely a permanent affliction."

Euphemia rolled her eyes. "So you do fool about," she said. "The Dark Lord, obviously. Is he quite fearsome?"

"Don't ask questions you don't truly want the answers to."

"Oh but I do. I'm betting he's a total melt. That snake he keeps as a pet is actually a kitten, isn't it?"

Snape grabbed her arm with a roughness that made her give an indignant cry. "Watch your tongue, girl. Don't ever think you're above reproach because of who your family is."

"My, my." She looked down at his hand still gripping her arm. "Could it be all the tales of you are true?"

With a look of pronounced defiance, Euphemia placed a hand onto Snape's groin. His cock, trained after two months of at the Manor and given no exercise for the last two weeks, leapt eagerly to attention.

Anger flashed in his eyes and, for a moment, it looked as though he might throw her hand off him. Instead, using the hand on her arm, he propelled her off the road into the treeline.

"Don't be so stupid, there are eyes all over these grounds," he said, even as he pushed her against the trunk of a tree.

Their lips met, his hips grinding against hers, until her hands went over his shoulders and he reeled back in pain. She mistook his grimace, her hands going to his trousers. Already he could feel the dull ache of his inability to release under the Dark Lord's curse.

He pulled her hands off him.

"How old are you?" Even as he asked, he knew it was futile. Unless today was her birthday, she would only be sixteen.

When she confirmed this, he brought his hands to her breasts, biding time as he fought with himself. He was no longer addled by the alcohol, though that had gone a long way in why he hadn't just Disapparated as soon as he saw her.

It was stupid. She was the same age as the blood traitor's daughter he had refused to fuck. Just over two years younger than he was. Euphemia lived in the same House while he was here, for chrissakes. He wasn't sure why he had had such qualms against fucking the girl that night at the raid. Perhaps it was because of the circumstance. Perhaps he was tired of being no better than a bull put to stud. Whatever the case, he had rebelled, to his great detriment.

He no longer had such compunction now. There was no way he would mate with this witch—no way his cock would make an appearance in any situation until he could resolve the Dark Lord's curse. But there were other things he could control.

Turning her around, he put her up against the tree again and yanked her cloak off, dropping it into the dirt. He reached under her skirt and tore her stockings. Just as he suspected, her slowed breath revealed her arousal.

He spit on his hand and shoved it between her legs, rubbing around her clit only a few times before sliding two fingers roughly into her snatch. She gasped but he didn't give her time to acclimate before he began thrusting. Though she whimpered, the excitement roiled off her in such forceful waves he didn't need Legilimency to feel them. It kept him painfully hard.

This would be an easy one. Haughty purebloods like Euphemia always wanted to feel overpowered, as if they simply had no control over what these brutes wanted to do to them. When one has been privileged for so long, nothing can satisfy more than being put in one's place.

With his other hand pressed against her back, he kept up the unrelenting pace, giving her the feeling of being taken against her will. Soon his fingers felt slick inside her and he added another. He leaned in to her ear and began speaking to her, making sure only his hot breath touched her neck and nothing else.

"You asked for this."

"Dirty fuckslut."

"Whore yourself to me."

She didn't need much. Just a few words to goad her along. He could see from the way her eyes rolled back as she leaned her cheek against the rough bark that she was playing at some schoolgirl defiance, and this is what she needed to complete that game.

He grabbed her hand and put it on on her clit. She automatically began to rub.

"Let me tell you what is going to happen. You're going to come like the mindless whore you are, and I'm going to leave you here by yourself, soiled and used, when I am done with you."

And there it went. The buck of her hips, that opening from inside, and she began shaking so that he hooked his free arm around her waist to hold her up so she could give in to her orgasm.

Ignoring the burning from the healing skin being stretched across his back, he saw her through her spasms until she subsided into small aftershocks. Then, making sure she had gained her legs again, he pulled his fingers from her cunt and, true to his word, stepped back and Disapparated.