Darkness
by Iejasu
Disclaimer: Don't own them! I don't owe anything...but I like to play with them.
I put them back later on :)
Summary: A submission to Maenad's story challenge.
Rating: Not suitable for people under 16 would think
Many thanks to my proofreader Sana, who helped me wonderfully with the
grammar and wording!
Chapter One - The rogue bludger that fled the game -
"Quidditch was sometimes played for weeks on end. Once, a
bludger disappeared into a marsh, and to all knowledge it
is still there, roaming free, randomly attacking anyone that
approaches it."
Severus Snape knelt before his master, head bowed into the dust, unmoving,
trying to slow his breathing. He forced himself to control every fibre of
his pain filled body.
The cruciatus curse had become something of a close friend to him over the
years, someone he knew intimately. He had been cursed so often, sometimes
for minutes, sometimes for hours, that he knew the pain more than he did
any lover. Maybe the cruciatus was his lover, the only lover he deserved.
Voldemort had finally won. The destruction of the wizard communities had been
quick, bloody and very thorough.
No muggle family that had given birth to a wizard, had been spared.
All mudbloods, he knew of, had either been killed or had been held
as slaves for various reasons. He had used a couple of them for potion
experiments, some had been used for curse developments, others as pleasure
slaves.
They were thought of as nothing but cattle.
Live had become a dark maze of pain and pleasure. Mostly pain for him.
The spark of light was dim, almost eradicated.
But somehow a few people had been able to maintain their hope. A hope for a better
future. But where, but how? Sometimes, when he was in his laboratory, his careful
forged facade shattered. Like the day he had been sent that woman. He had remembered
her name, had recalled her from one of his classes, back when she had been a young
girl and he had been the dreaded Potion Master. The woman in front of him had been
merely a shadow of a human being, fragile, thin, malnourished. What she had encountered
in her still young years had been written in her eyes, in the void that he had seen in them.
Those eyes had reminded him of another pair of eyes he saw every morning he dared to look
into a mirror. She had recognized him too, her old potion master. She had harboured no
hope in that discovery. He had given her food. Then he had killed her with a newly
developed potion. But he had altered it a bit. When she died in his arms, she had
smiled dreamily as if she had seen something beautiful. Death was not an enemy anymore.
It had become the best friend to most wizards.
"I am pleased with your performance, my servant. You will be rewarded." Voldemorts
voice sounded almost human, a mere deception forged for young death eaters.
Inwardly he had become an absolute monster, nothing human left in him. Only
the need for power, the lust for power and greed reigned in his veins. This
insatiable hunger was what kept him alive. He lived from the pain and fear of his
followers and his enemies. The more they hated him, or feared him, the stronger he
got. There was more to it, but who knew the full truth? Not even Snape could claim
that much and he was part of the Inner Circle.
"Thank you, my master. I am yours to command." Dutifully Snape kissed the hem
of the Dark Lords robes and crawled away like a beaten dog. In these times pride
was only in death.
*******
Striding though dark alleys Snape avoided every lantern, every light from the moon
or from a gap in a window. Darkness was his ally. It protected him from curious glances,
from prying eyes and from malevolent glares.
Finally he reached the destination.
The person waiting there was much younger than him. He knew him well.
It was one of the younger Weasleys. Without a word he waited for the password.
It came quickly and without hesitation. "Asphodel and Wormwood."
Snape handed him the list without further conversation. There was nothing to converse about.
The small group of resistance fighters, that still struggled against the all consuming
darkness was small, their fight almost hopeless. Dumbledore was dead, struck down by one
of the most powerful curses. It had been the last true battle, now it was more like a
guerrilla fight. Small strikes in dark corners, quick, dirty and desperate. Not much
better than the raids of the death eaters in more civilized times.
And Severus Snape continued his dirty work, spying for them, trying to keep them alive
by warning them while most of his "allies" would kill him on sight. Only few knew that
he was still working for the "good" side. Most considered him a vile traitor, a true
death eater by flesh, bone and soul. The only people that trusted him grudgingly were
Potter and the Weasleys. That did not mean they liked him. Trust does not necessarily
involve friendship. No tears would be shed when he died. And he was glad about that.
Potter was the last hope for any future, he was all that mattered now. Not that he would
tell that the young man at any given time.
Wordlessly he disappeared back into the thick shadows. He had another appointment tonight,
one that was equally dangerous but to his taste even less pleasant than sneaking in the
dark. He had to make a visit to Malfoy Manor, having a "peaceful" evening with Lucius
and his son Draco.
********
The Malfoys were considered crown princes of the new wizard community. They were
greatly in favour of the Dark Lord and their word was almost law in this new era.
It had not improved their manners in any way, Snape thought to himself. But he was
good friends with Lucius, as good as two scorpions could be friends. One always
smiled in the front and hid the dagger in the back, waiting for a chance to strike
before being stuck. Not that Severus had ever been accused of smiling...
Arriving from his laboratory by floo powder he stepped out of the fireplace,
wiping off the imagined soot.
He faced Lucius with cold eyes. The smile of his old acquaintance was broad, as always,
and just as dangerous.
"Ah, Severus. You recovered quickly from our master's attention."
Nothing but a firm nod and a murmured "Good evening, Lucius," was all Snape was willing
to answer to that. Out of the corners of his eyes he saw Draco, a similar smile on his face.
"Good evening, Professor. A pleasure to meet you." The pleasure was not on Snapes side.
He only nodded as a reply.
They spent the evening by the fire, discussing atrocities and playing mind games.
Draco Malfoy now acted like a shadow of his father, his manner equally repulsive.
Snape sometimes wondered if the boy had any personality of his own.
"Severus, you look positively exhausted. You should get a little entertainment from time
to time. Our master knows how loyal you are and wants you rewarded. He asked me to provide
for a little distraction."
He could hear a tantalizing hint of something in the older Malfoy's statement, but
he was unable to pinpoint the exact meaning. However, he knew that what Lucius
called "entertainment" would not be pleasant.
He was unable to pinpoint the meaning without further investigation but it was boring
nothing he would have called pleasant. Another test of his loyalty? Another atrocity
performed by the faithful death eater Severus Snape? His nightmares had become almost
unbearable during the last years.
He had been forced to retreat to a highly addictive mix from muggle drugs and
wizarding potions just to get any rest at all. And he knew it would destroy him even
if he was able to survive Voldemort and his games.
Lucius waved the silent Severus towards the fireplace.
**********
Certain entertainments were common for wizards as they were for muggles. Certain houses
of entertainment too. Snape had never really liked paid company but he preferred an
agreement to stealing females attention. Despite his reputation he was not a sadistic man.
And sometimes even he needed some release.
His eyes measured the various females and males in cages, waiting to be chosen by
interested customers. He was able to see injuries, legs and arms that were just a little
bit too thin, ribs that stuck out from too little food.
They all concealed their faces behind animal masks, making them nothing but flesh to
use without human features. A cock, a dog, a cat, a hippogriff, a dragon, a pig, a horse
and a badger.
Those masks were to conceal their humanity, making them look like puppets or toys, while
hiding the emptiness, fear and desperation in their faces
These were pleasure slaves, free to use for any wizard willing to pay the price or with
the right connections.
He sneered disgusted. "Lucius, these wretches are nothing but skin and bones."
Lucius laughed mockingly. "Oh, Severus. These girls and boys are skilled. They will
deny you nothing." He sniggered slightly. "Absolutely nothing..." And as if suddenly
remembering something, Lucius added "And the master especially pointed out that you need
some sort of release....."
Snape gritted his teeth, as he knew what was expected of him.
He regarded them carefully, trying to decide which one to take. A young female with
fish net stockings caught his eyes. The mask of a cat fitted her nicely, and he had
the feeling there was still some spark left in her, faint but still there. Her legs
were thin but their shape was still pleasing to his eyes.
He unlocked the cage with his wand and indicated to her that she should follow him.
He did not even turn to check that the cat followed him obediently upstairs.
Neither did he bother to light the room when they reached the chamber for this "meeting".
He did not want to see her face, he did not want to see the hate or the utter lack of
any emotion. All he wanted was a quick release and be done with it, no bad aftertaste,
no taste at all if possible. No more images that would haunt him in the nights to come.
Her voice was a low purr. "Let me make you more comfortable, Sir." Skilled hands reached
up to his collar, trying to undo the buttons.
He held her wrists. "You will not touch me unless I tell you to." His voice was the
dangerous silky purr he once used in his classrooms. And she obediently relaxed, being thoroughly housebroken.
He let her hands go and nodded in the darkness towards the bed.
"Undress and lay down. This will be quick." He was not sure why he said that. Was it to
comfort her or to give him more comfort?
He bound her wrists with the robes that were lying on the bedside table. She could
inflict harm, if he let his guard down even once.
Silently he sat down next to her. Sadness pulled at his heart. Why were young girls
forced to prostitute themselves? His hand touched her gently. He could feel the warm
skin under his palm. The skin was so young, so soft.
His body reacted to the closeness of the female. She smelled clean but he detected
the faint odour of fear. Her appearance was a mask just like the cat mask but the nose
of a potion master was not to be misled. The bondage made her expect rougher treatment
than normal intercourse.
For a moment he thought of soothing her fears by a quick reassurance but he bit his tongue
just in time. He was a deatheater.
Without any further comment, he braced himself and released just enough fabric to
perform in the expected way. It had been quite some time since he had had any and
indeed his body showed faint signs of interest. Grinding his teeth he supported his
carnal instincts by the usage of his hands and his mind. When he was ready, he entered
her with one swift stroke, riding his hunger out between her thighs. He came quick and
hard, in complete silence, like a bitter cough into the folds of womanhood. She had not
moved a bit and he was grateful for that.
It was a bleak relief. But everything was bleak now. Why should this be any different?
All he could murmur was a bitter "Done...". He knew that he would need to remain longer
in this room, Lucius expected him to have fun. He decided to use some intimidation to
ensure her discretion. "You will keep silent about what has happened here or you will
regret it, girl."
He saw her nodding to his demand. "Yes, Sir."
Snape curled up with his back towards the bound girl and tried to get some rest, even
though he knew sleep would not overcome him in this place and with another being so
close to him. Staring at the wall he waited for the sunrise.
His nose caught her smell now more accurately. His sense of smell had always been
extremely keen. She smelled nice, like peaches with a hint of mint. A strangely familiar
smell that made its way down to his stomach and released some kind of warm feeling, like
the distant memory of better days. He drew in a deep breath.
"Why are you sniffing after me like a dog...." She murmured with a hint of surprise mixed
with amusement in her husky voice.
He knew he should turn and strike her for that, punish her for her insolence but somehow
he was pleased that this girl had kept a spark of life, a spark of defiance in her frail
form. He turned towards her and touched her mask gently, pulling it off in the darkness.
"Would not a dog sniff after a cat?" he murmured remotely amused. In the darkness he
turned and drew her closer. "Sleep little cat....no more entertainment required for tonight."
Her smell was strangely reassuring, almost like a narcotic. When he closed his eyes and
drew in her scent, he saw sunlit quidditch fields, children with their brooms, the
classrooms and the bubbling cauldrons. He saw better days which he had never cherished
while they had lasted. His eyelids became heavy and without realizing it, he slipped
into a light slumber.
********
The Cat lay in his arms, she knew this man. She had feared him long ago, hated him
just as much. But tonight he had not beaten her, he had not hurt her, at least not
much. She had seen many males, but his hands were almost gentle. She remembered his
hands well. Long, white fingers with neatly clipped nails. She recalled how gently he
used to treat his vials, his cauldrons, even the ingredients. While the rest of this
person was vile and unapproachable, his hands had always been gentle.
Tears welled up in her eyes when she recalled those carefree days, carefree in
comparison to this all consuming darkness the wizarding world now lived in. All entries
towards the muggle world have been sealed. She could not vanish into the muggle world,
even if she could find a way to flee from this hellhole.
She still remembered the times of the last battle. She had been right in the middle of it.
In a short break she had run into the dungeons, seeking solitude. Dumbledore had been
killed only hours earlier during the heat of the battle.
Down in the cool darkness of the dungeons, she had heard a hauntingly discordant sound,
like the wailing of a wounded animal.
Following that sound her eyes beheld a vision she would never forget for as long as she
lived, no matter how old she would become. The emotionless, unapproachable Potions Master,
knelt on the floor, clutching his face, rocking back and forth. First she had believed
him injured but when she had made a sound, the man had looked up from his position, his
face distorted by emotional pain, anger and something close to madness. Turning in horror,
she had run.
When the dark angle cried, the world would come to an end. That moment she had realized
that the final battle was near. His crying was the horns of Jericho. And indeed,
Hogwarts' walls had fallen that night. She had been away when it happened. Fear and
horror had made her run into the Forbidden Forest.
All muggleborns inside Hogwarts that had happened to survive the final battle, were killed
later by the victorious deatheaters. She was dead to everybody she had once known. She had
betrayed all she had believed in when the instinct of self preservation had made her a
coward that day.
Weeks later, they caught her stealing food in a small wizarding community. The time turner,
she had once used, made her older and they did not recognize her. She was not killed, but
sold to a brothel.
Through rumours she had heard of the resistance. She believed those rumours, they kept her
alive. She had cried in relief when she had heard that Harry and Ron were alive.
McGonagall had been executed in public a few month later. The Head of Gryffindor had died a
very old woman when Death finally embraced her and took her away.
Snape had been standing on the dais, pale and unmoving. More than a few people had seemed
to hate him even more than Voldemort. The hate and disgust for the traitor was still
considerable. Even now some accused him of having killed the beloved headmaster. She
was unsure about great many things. Was he still a double agent? If he was, which side
was he working for?
The Cat fell asleep, taking in the scent of the man beside her. She had slept with the
enemy more than once. She had given pleasure to them and a tiny part of her brain told
her she deserved everything she got.
She had betrayed them all, she had abandoned her friends, she had even abandoned her
own name. Hermione Granger was dead, she had died in the dungeon of Hogwarts five years
ago.
************
Snape was woken by the sun shining on his face. He hated it and jumped out of bed quickly,
dressing himself with a flick of his wand. Only then did he see the mask lying on the floor.
He lifted it, looking at the grinning face of a cat. Slowly he turned towards the girl that
had spent the night with him. The girl that had strangely been the inducer of good dreams.
Better than any potion.
His mouth fell open when he saw the slightly gaunt features of the young woman. He knew
that face, he knew her bushy brown hair, her fair skin. The amount of makeup and artificial
colours could not deceive a trained spy with so many years of experience. He once knew her
brain even better than her looks. That brilliant young witch he had found so annoying and
in the same time so pleasing among those dunder heads at Hogwarts. Now he also recalled why
he knew her smell. He had often checked her progress by leaning over her, sniffing the
scent of her potion. It had been a precaution because she used to work with Longbottom
and had had the most annoying friends. Yes, he recognised her... or what was left of her...
His lips formed her name but the sound never left his throat.
"Hermione Granger..."
How had she escaped?
He had seen the children being killed, he had seen the burning piles of dead bodies
smouldering in the quidditch pitch. Since that day, the gruesome smell of burning flesh
had never really left his nose.
Some few had managed to flee, but most had been caught quickly. Potter and Weasley had
looked for her for weeks after the battle but she had been gone. They had held a small
ceremony and had thought her among the fallen.
The last time he had seen her was in the dungeon shortly after Albus died.
He had crawled into the shadows like a wounded animal and mourned what was to come.
She had found him. He had seen her eyes, wide and full with realization. She must have
run afterwards. He had seen the horror in her eyes. Like a rogue bludger she had simply
quit the game, seeking her own survival. A very Slytherin thing to do, the former Head
of Slytherin mused. The rough bludger had been caught but nobody seemed to have realised
that she was a survivor of the last battle. He smiled grimly. Her Gryffindor bravado had
finally met its limits. But the price had been high.
He sat next to her on the bed and released her from her bonds. She woke up staring
into those cold, dark eyes and instantly knew that he had recognised her.
"I failed them... I failed everyone..." she whispered."
He could hear the self loathing in her voice. He knew that feeling far too well.
The former potion master touched her lips briefly, silencing her and bending down,
whispering into her ear. "...we all failed that day, Miss Granger."
Her eyes filled with tears as she heard him address her that way, a naked whore lying
on a bed, and still he called her "Miss Granger"... Burying her face into the rich folds
of his robes she cried "I am a Cat... I am nothing but a deceiving cat... worthless,
heartless...."
A hand rested gently on her head, stroking the short brown hair.
"Yes, you are a cat. Like I am a dog, licking the boots that kick me." The bitterness
in his voice was overwhelming. He lifted her face, a finger below her chin, forcing
her to look into his eyes. "...but we still know, we remember, that is the tragedy."
Severus Snape got up and left the room silently, leaving the crying cat in her own misery.
Moments later the door opened again. Draco Malfoy entered with a wide smile.
"So, how is everyone's favourite mudblood doing this morning?"
Cat's eyes grew wide in horror.
Draco sat down next to her on the bed, smiling and taking off his belt.
"Now let us talk a little about...last night...."
The screams from the room were silenced by a charm not to disturb any paying customers
in Malfoy's playhouse.....
TBC.....
by Iejasu
Disclaimer: Don't own them! I don't owe anything...but I like to play with them.
I put them back later on :)
Summary: A submission to Maenad's story challenge.
Rating: Not suitable for people under 16 would think
Many thanks to my proofreader Sana, who helped me wonderfully with the
grammar and wording!
Chapter One - The rogue bludger that fled the game -
"Quidditch was sometimes played for weeks on end. Once, a
bludger disappeared into a marsh, and to all knowledge it
is still there, roaming free, randomly attacking anyone that
approaches it."
Severus Snape knelt before his master, head bowed into the dust, unmoving,
trying to slow his breathing. He forced himself to control every fibre of
his pain filled body.
The cruciatus curse had become something of a close friend to him over the
years, someone he knew intimately. He had been cursed so often, sometimes
for minutes, sometimes for hours, that he knew the pain more than he did
any lover. Maybe the cruciatus was his lover, the only lover he deserved.
Voldemort had finally won. The destruction of the wizard communities had been
quick, bloody and very thorough.
No muggle family that had given birth to a wizard, had been spared.
All mudbloods, he knew of, had either been killed or had been held
as slaves for various reasons. He had used a couple of them for potion
experiments, some had been used for curse developments, others as pleasure
slaves.
They were thought of as nothing but cattle.
Live had become a dark maze of pain and pleasure. Mostly pain for him.
The spark of light was dim, almost eradicated.
But somehow a few people had been able to maintain their hope. A hope for a better
future. But where, but how? Sometimes, when he was in his laboratory, his careful
forged facade shattered. Like the day he had been sent that woman. He had remembered
her name, had recalled her from one of his classes, back when she had been a young
girl and he had been the dreaded Potion Master. The woman in front of him had been
merely a shadow of a human being, fragile, thin, malnourished. What she had encountered
in her still young years had been written in her eyes, in the void that he had seen in them.
Those eyes had reminded him of another pair of eyes he saw every morning he dared to look
into a mirror. She had recognized him too, her old potion master. She had harboured no
hope in that discovery. He had given her food. Then he had killed her with a newly
developed potion. But he had altered it a bit. When she died in his arms, she had
smiled dreamily as if she had seen something beautiful. Death was not an enemy anymore.
It had become the best friend to most wizards.
"I am pleased with your performance, my servant. You will be rewarded." Voldemorts
voice sounded almost human, a mere deception forged for young death eaters.
Inwardly he had become an absolute monster, nothing human left in him. Only
the need for power, the lust for power and greed reigned in his veins. This
insatiable hunger was what kept him alive. He lived from the pain and fear of his
followers and his enemies. The more they hated him, or feared him, the stronger he
got. There was more to it, but who knew the full truth? Not even Snape could claim
that much and he was part of the Inner Circle.
"Thank you, my master. I am yours to command." Dutifully Snape kissed the hem
of the Dark Lords robes and crawled away like a beaten dog. In these times pride
was only in death.
*******
Striding though dark alleys Snape avoided every lantern, every light from the moon
or from a gap in a window. Darkness was his ally. It protected him from curious glances,
from prying eyes and from malevolent glares.
Finally he reached the destination.
The person waiting there was much younger than him. He knew him well.
It was one of the younger Weasleys. Without a word he waited for the password.
It came quickly and without hesitation. "Asphodel and Wormwood."
Snape handed him the list without further conversation. There was nothing to converse about.
The small group of resistance fighters, that still struggled against the all consuming
darkness was small, their fight almost hopeless. Dumbledore was dead, struck down by one
of the most powerful curses. It had been the last true battle, now it was more like a
guerrilla fight. Small strikes in dark corners, quick, dirty and desperate. Not much
better than the raids of the death eaters in more civilized times.
And Severus Snape continued his dirty work, spying for them, trying to keep them alive
by warning them while most of his "allies" would kill him on sight. Only few knew that
he was still working for the "good" side. Most considered him a vile traitor, a true
death eater by flesh, bone and soul. The only people that trusted him grudgingly were
Potter and the Weasleys. That did not mean they liked him. Trust does not necessarily
involve friendship. No tears would be shed when he died. And he was glad about that.
Potter was the last hope for any future, he was all that mattered now. Not that he would
tell that the young man at any given time.
Wordlessly he disappeared back into the thick shadows. He had another appointment tonight,
one that was equally dangerous but to his taste even less pleasant than sneaking in the
dark. He had to make a visit to Malfoy Manor, having a "peaceful" evening with Lucius
and his son Draco.
********
The Malfoys were considered crown princes of the new wizard community. They were
greatly in favour of the Dark Lord and their word was almost law in this new era.
It had not improved their manners in any way, Snape thought to himself. But he was
good friends with Lucius, as good as two scorpions could be friends. One always
smiled in the front and hid the dagger in the back, waiting for a chance to strike
before being stuck. Not that Severus had ever been accused of smiling...
Arriving from his laboratory by floo powder he stepped out of the fireplace,
wiping off the imagined soot.
He faced Lucius with cold eyes. The smile of his old acquaintance was broad, as always,
and just as dangerous.
"Ah, Severus. You recovered quickly from our master's attention."
Nothing but a firm nod and a murmured "Good evening, Lucius," was all Snape was willing
to answer to that. Out of the corners of his eyes he saw Draco, a similar smile on his face.
"Good evening, Professor. A pleasure to meet you." The pleasure was not on Snapes side.
He only nodded as a reply.
They spent the evening by the fire, discussing atrocities and playing mind games.
Draco Malfoy now acted like a shadow of his father, his manner equally repulsive.
Snape sometimes wondered if the boy had any personality of his own.
"Severus, you look positively exhausted. You should get a little entertainment from time
to time. Our master knows how loyal you are and wants you rewarded. He asked me to provide
for a little distraction."
He could hear a tantalizing hint of something in the older Malfoy's statement, but
he was unable to pinpoint the exact meaning. However, he knew that what Lucius
called "entertainment" would not be pleasant.
He was unable to pinpoint the meaning without further investigation but it was boring
nothing he would have called pleasant. Another test of his loyalty? Another atrocity
performed by the faithful death eater Severus Snape? His nightmares had become almost
unbearable during the last years.
He had been forced to retreat to a highly addictive mix from muggle drugs and
wizarding potions just to get any rest at all. And he knew it would destroy him even
if he was able to survive Voldemort and his games.
Lucius waved the silent Severus towards the fireplace.
**********
Certain entertainments were common for wizards as they were for muggles. Certain houses
of entertainment too. Snape had never really liked paid company but he preferred an
agreement to stealing females attention. Despite his reputation he was not a sadistic man.
And sometimes even he needed some release.
His eyes measured the various females and males in cages, waiting to be chosen by
interested customers. He was able to see injuries, legs and arms that were just a little
bit too thin, ribs that stuck out from too little food.
They all concealed their faces behind animal masks, making them nothing but flesh to
use without human features. A cock, a dog, a cat, a hippogriff, a dragon, a pig, a horse
and a badger.
Those masks were to conceal their humanity, making them look like puppets or toys, while
hiding the emptiness, fear and desperation in their faces
These were pleasure slaves, free to use for any wizard willing to pay the price or with
the right connections.
He sneered disgusted. "Lucius, these wretches are nothing but skin and bones."
Lucius laughed mockingly. "Oh, Severus. These girls and boys are skilled. They will
deny you nothing." He sniggered slightly. "Absolutely nothing..." And as if suddenly
remembering something, Lucius added "And the master especially pointed out that you need
some sort of release....."
Snape gritted his teeth, as he knew what was expected of him.
He regarded them carefully, trying to decide which one to take. A young female with
fish net stockings caught his eyes. The mask of a cat fitted her nicely, and he had
the feeling there was still some spark left in her, faint but still there. Her legs
were thin but their shape was still pleasing to his eyes.
He unlocked the cage with his wand and indicated to her that she should follow him.
He did not even turn to check that the cat followed him obediently upstairs.
Neither did he bother to light the room when they reached the chamber for this "meeting".
He did not want to see her face, he did not want to see the hate or the utter lack of
any emotion. All he wanted was a quick release and be done with it, no bad aftertaste,
no taste at all if possible. No more images that would haunt him in the nights to come.
Her voice was a low purr. "Let me make you more comfortable, Sir." Skilled hands reached
up to his collar, trying to undo the buttons.
He held her wrists. "You will not touch me unless I tell you to." His voice was the
dangerous silky purr he once used in his classrooms. And she obediently relaxed, being thoroughly housebroken.
He let her hands go and nodded in the darkness towards the bed.
"Undress and lay down. This will be quick." He was not sure why he said that. Was it to
comfort her or to give him more comfort?
He bound her wrists with the robes that were lying on the bedside table. She could
inflict harm, if he let his guard down even once.
Silently he sat down next to her. Sadness pulled at his heart. Why were young girls
forced to prostitute themselves? His hand touched her gently. He could feel the warm
skin under his palm. The skin was so young, so soft.
His body reacted to the closeness of the female. She smelled clean but he detected
the faint odour of fear. Her appearance was a mask just like the cat mask but the nose
of a potion master was not to be misled. The bondage made her expect rougher treatment
than normal intercourse.
For a moment he thought of soothing her fears by a quick reassurance but he bit his tongue
just in time. He was a deatheater.
Without any further comment, he braced himself and released just enough fabric to
perform in the expected way. It had been quite some time since he had had any and
indeed his body showed faint signs of interest. Grinding his teeth he supported his
carnal instincts by the usage of his hands and his mind. When he was ready, he entered
her with one swift stroke, riding his hunger out between her thighs. He came quick and
hard, in complete silence, like a bitter cough into the folds of womanhood. She had not
moved a bit and he was grateful for that.
It was a bleak relief. But everything was bleak now. Why should this be any different?
All he could murmur was a bitter "Done...". He knew that he would need to remain longer
in this room, Lucius expected him to have fun. He decided to use some intimidation to
ensure her discretion. "You will keep silent about what has happened here or you will
regret it, girl."
He saw her nodding to his demand. "Yes, Sir."
Snape curled up with his back towards the bound girl and tried to get some rest, even
though he knew sleep would not overcome him in this place and with another being so
close to him. Staring at the wall he waited for the sunrise.
His nose caught her smell now more accurately. His sense of smell had always been
extremely keen. She smelled nice, like peaches with a hint of mint. A strangely familiar
smell that made its way down to his stomach and released some kind of warm feeling, like
the distant memory of better days. He drew in a deep breath.
"Why are you sniffing after me like a dog...." She murmured with a hint of surprise mixed
with amusement in her husky voice.
He knew he should turn and strike her for that, punish her for her insolence but somehow
he was pleased that this girl had kept a spark of life, a spark of defiance in her frail
form. He turned towards her and touched her mask gently, pulling it off in the darkness.
"Would not a dog sniff after a cat?" he murmured remotely amused. In the darkness he
turned and drew her closer. "Sleep little cat....no more entertainment required for tonight."
Her smell was strangely reassuring, almost like a narcotic. When he closed his eyes and
drew in her scent, he saw sunlit quidditch fields, children with their brooms, the
classrooms and the bubbling cauldrons. He saw better days which he had never cherished
while they had lasted. His eyelids became heavy and without realizing it, he slipped
into a light slumber.
********
The Cat lay in his arms, she knew this man. She had feared him long ago, hated him
just as much. But tonight he had not beaten her, he had not hurt her, at least not
much. She had seen many males, but his hands were almost gentle. She remembered his
hands well. Long, white fingers with neatly clipped nails. She recalled how gently he
used to treat his vials, his cauldrons, even the ingredients. While the rest of this
person was vile and unapproachable, his hands had always been gentle.
Tears welled up in her eyes when she recalled those carefree days, carefree in
comparison to this all consuming darkness the wizarding world now lived in. All entries
towards the muggle world have been sealed. She could not vanish into the muggle world,
even if she could find a way to flee from this hellhole.
She still remembered the times of the last battle. She had been right in the middle of it.
In a short break she had run into the dungeons, seeking solitude. Dumbledore had been
killed only hours earlier during the heat of the battle.
Down in the cool darkness of the dungeons, she had heard a hauntingly discordant sound,
like the wailing of a wounded animal.
Following that sound her eyes beheld a vision she would never forget for as long as she
lived, no matter how old she would become. The emotionless, unapproachable Potions Master,
knelt on the floor, clutching his face, rocking back and forth. First she had believed
him injured but when she had made a sound, the man had looked up from his position, his
face distorted by emotional pain, anger and something close to madness. Turning in horror,
she had run.
When the dark angle cried, the world would come to an end. That moment she had realized
that the final battle was near. His crying was the horns of Jericho. And indeed,
Hogwarts' walls had fallen that night. She had been away when it happened. Fear and
horror had made her run into the Forbidden Forest.
All muggleborns inside Hogwarts that had happened to survive the final battle, were killed
later by the victorious deatheaters. She was dead to everybody she had once known. She had
betrayed all she had believed in when the instinct of self preservation had made her a
coward that day.
Weeks later, they caught her stealing food in a small wizarding community. The time turner,
she had once used, made her older and they did not recognize her. She was not killed, but
sold to a brothel.
Through rumours she had heard of the resistance. She believed those rumours, they kept her
alive. She had cried in relief when she had heard that Harry and Ron were alive.
McGonagall had been executed in public a few month later. The Head of Gryffindor had died a
very old woman when Death finally embraced her and took her away.
Snape had been standing on the dais, pale and unmoving. More than a few people had seemed
to hate him even more than Voldemort. The hate and disgust for the traitor was still
considerable. Even now some accused him of having killed the beloved headmaster. She
was unsure about great many things. Was he still a double agent? If he was, which side
was he working for?
The Cat fell asleep, taking in the scent of the man beside her. She had slept with the
enemy more than once. She had given pleasure to them and a tiny part of her brain told
her she deserved everything she got.
She had betrayed them all, she had abandoned her friends, she had even abandoned her
own name. Hermione Granger was dead, she had died in the dungeon of Hogwarts five years
ago.
************
Snape was woken by the sun shining on his face. He hated it and jumped out of bed quickly,
dressing himself with a flick of his wand. Only then did he see the mask lying on the floor.
He lifted it, looking at the grinning face of a cat. Slowly he turned towards the girl that
had spent the night with him. The girl that had strangely been the inducer of good dreams.
Better than any potion.
His mouth fell open when he saw the slightly gaunt features of the young woman. He knew
that face, he knew her bushy brown hair, her fair skin. The amount of makeup and artificial
colours could not deceive a trained spy with so many years of experience. He once knew her
brain even better than her looks. That brilliant young witch he had found so annoying and
in the same time so pleasing among those dunder heads at Hogwarts. Now he also recalled why
he knew her smell. He had often checked her progress by leaning over her, sniffing the
scent of her potion. It had been a precaution because she used to work with Longbottom
and had had the most annoying friends. Yes, he recognised her... or what was left of her...
His lips formed her name but the sound never left his throat.
"Hermione Granger..."
How had she escaped?
He had seen the children being killed, he had seen the burning piles of dead bodies
smouldering in the quidditch pitch. Since that day, the gruesome smell of burning flesh
had never really left his nose.
Some few had managed to flee, but most had been caught quickly. Potter and Weasley had
looked for her for weeks after the battle but she had been gone. They had held a small
ceremony and had thought her among the fallen.
The last time he had seen her was in the dungeon shortly after Albus died.
He had crawled into the shadows like a wounded animal and mourned what was to come.
She had found him. He had seen her eyes, wide and full with realization. She must have
run afterwards. He had seen the horror in her eyes. Like a rogue bludger she had simply
quit the game, seeking her own survival. A very Slytherin thing to do, the former Head
of Slytherin mused. The rough bludger had been caught but nobody seemed to have realised
that she was a survivor of the last battle. He smiled grimly. Her Gryffindor bravado had
finally met its limits. But the price had been high.
He sat next to her on the bed and released her from her bonds. She woke up staring
into those cold, dark eyes and instantly knew that he had recognised her.
"I failed them... I failed everyone..." she whispered."
He could hear the self loathing in her voice. He knew that feeling far too well.
The former potion master touched her lips briefly, silencing her and bending down,
whispering into her ear. "...we all failed that day, Miss Granger."
Her eyes filled with tears as she heard him address her that way, a naked whore lying
on a bed, and still he called her "Miss Granger"... Burying her face into the rich folds
of his robes she cried "I am a Cat... I am nothing but a deceiving cat... worthless,
heartless...."
A hand rested gently on her head, stroking the short brown hair.
"Yes, you are a cat. Like I am a dog, licking the boots that kick me." The bitterness
in his voice was overwhelming. He lifted her face, a finger below her chin, forcing
her to look into his eyes. "...but we still know, we remember, that is the tragedy."
Severus Snape got up and left the room silently, leaving the crying cat in her own misery.
Moments later the door opened again. Draco Malfoy entered with a wide smile.
"So, how is everyone's favourite mudblood doing this morning?"
Cat's eyes grew wide in horror.
Draco sat down next to her on the bed, smiling and taking off his belt.
"Now let us talk a little about...last night...."
The screams from the room were silenced by a charm not to disturb any paying customers
in Malfoy's playhouse.....
TBC.....