This is my first ever Harry Potter fic. My first fic for that matter. Not by any means my

first peice of writing however. Anyway, have mercy.

As always, no money is being made by this, and everything you may reconise belongs to the

marvelous J.K. Rowling.

******

A VIEW FROM THE OUTSIDE - CHAPTER 1

Autumn MacLoud stood under jets of hot water, surrounded by thick steam. She wasn't

thinking of much except sleep. She'd had a long day. Her tense muscles slowly relaxed

under the almost-too-hot water, and she rinsed the conditional from her long auburn

curls. Finally she bent to turn off the water, rapped a towel around her hair, and stepped

from the white porcelain tub onto the black and white checkerboard floor. She brushed

her teethe and pulled on a long, sleeveless, dark green nightdress. After checking her

appearance once more in the mirror, she opened the bathroom door and exited with a rush

of steam.

She exited into the hallway only to find two unknown men. One was tall and athletic

with long platinum hair and very refined features, the other short, squat, and nearly bald.

They seemed to be talking to one another and looked up moments after Autumn stepped

out the door, exchanging a conspiratorial look. The taller man looked at her first, she was

suddenly struck by the coldness in his eyes, silver eyes that nearly matched his hair. He

arched one platinum brow and nudged the short man, drawing something from his sleeve.

Autumn did not see, she was too captured by those terrible eyes. The eyes of a killer, she

thought to herself while aloud just managing to get out "Who the fuck—" before hearing

a smooth voice say something she didn't quite understand and seeing some sort of flare.

It was all she knew for a while.

Above the still form of the muggle girl they had been sent to fetch, Lucius Malfoy and

Peter Pettigrew congratulated each other on their fine job. Voldemort might be pleased

with this one.

******

Many miles away, Severus Snape woke from a nightmare he had only vague memories of

to a despicably familiar burning on his left for-arm. He struggled out of the sweat soaked

sheets and stumbled, unusually ungraceful, to the wardrobe across the chamber. He

hastily donned his Deatheaters' robe and mask, then touched his darkmark and in an

instant arrived at his former master's side.

First thing he did upon arrival as countless times before was to kiss Voldemort's feet, and

then retreat to his place within the circle of similarly masked figures. He noticed that two

spots were conspicuously empty. This did not sit well in the mind of Severus Snape. All

the others in the circle fidgeted a bit in the silence. Not one knew why they had been

summoned so abruptly and unexpectedly.

The sound of a heavy door swinging open instantly cut through Severus' contemplations.

He saw only two figures half dragging, half carrying something between them, it was

hard to even begin to guess the identity of any of the three in the dim light outside the

circle. As they came closer, Severus could see what they were dragging between them,

and his blood turned to ice.

The unconscious girl between Lucius Malfoy and Peter Pettigrew was dressed in a long

white corseted dress, plain and unembellished, but obviously made from the finest

materials. Her neck, wrists, and ankles were hung with silver chains adorned with white

opals. Her feet were bare, and her long curls were loose, but for a silver chain circlet

with yet another opal drop in the center of her head. Her long eyelashes brushed her

smooth cheeks as her lids fluttered. All this to Severus' mind made her look like a

sacrifice victim straight out of an obscene fairy tale. This though made his heart

plummet, another innocent lost to Voldemort's overly theatric cruelties.

Malfoy and Pettigrew dropped the girl at Voldemort's feet, and hurried to fill the gaps in

the deatheater circle around the Dark Lord and his newest prize. When they were in

place, Voldemort rose and pointed his wand at the hapless girl at his feet, as he muttered

a casual "Enervate". The fluttering eyelids suddenly snapped open, and the girl seemed

very lost for a few long moments before looking up into the face of her captor with a very

audible gasp. She recovered quickly, and from her knees asked, challenge crackling from

every word, "Who the hell are you?"

Voldemort opened that slit in his face that was the only remainder of his mouth and

answered her in his horrible syllibant voice, "I am your Lord, Voldemort. I will not

tolerate that tone of voice, be warned only once. And you will address me as Master."

He added the last with a chilling smile that could wither the heart of powerful wizards.

Autumn MacLoud however seemed unimtimidated.

"Ah, yes. Please excuse me Master, I had no idea my Lord. I am at you disposal.

Obviously." Her voice dripped sarcasm. "Master." she amended unconvincingly. Her

entire posture suggested defiance, from her flashing eyes, to her outspread hands. If there

was one thing Voldemort hated, it was defiance.

He brought up his wand he was still holding and pointing it at the girl, "Crucio!" Severus

could tell from where he was that the dark lord was enjoying this torture. He always

enjoyed torture. Meanwhile the girl was writhing on the floor and screaming in pain.

The positions she took were having an obvious effect of arousal on many of the

Deatheaters in the circle. After nearly a full minute, "finite incantatum" Voldemort

intoned. Autumn lay exhausted and panting on the floor, every inch of her pale skin

sheened with sweat. Voldemort smiled, "I warned you once." His tone gentle, almost

seductive, "You don't want me to do that again."

"Fuck you" the girl on the floor managed to gasp out around the lingering pain of the

Cruciatus curse. Voldemort's face contorted with rage. With a wave of his wand, all the

fancy cloths and jewelry was gone, and the girl lay naked at Voldemort's feet. He

grabbed her by an upper arm and hauled her to her feet. He looked into a pair of green

eyes filled with contempt. He slapped the girl with all his strange and had the satisfaction

of seeing her head snap to the side with force, and consciousness leave her eyes. He then

thrust the unconscious body forward toward the gathered Deatheaters. "A treat," he said

"for my loyal servants. Severus, follow me." He walked away toward the door Malfoy

and Pettigrew had brought the girl through.

******

Severus followed the dark lord while trying to drown out the sounds of the scene behind

him. When he was through the door it shut with a sharp click behind him. Voldemort

waited for him in a throne like chair, and Severus dropped to kiss the hem of his robe.

He remained on the floor to hear what Voldemort had to say to him, head bowed,

dreading it for it rarely was good. "Severus, you have always been a good servant to me.

If there is anything left of that girl out there, I want you to have her."

"H-have her my Lord?" Severus asked uncertainly. No this certainly couldn't be a good

thing, he thought wildly.

"Yes, as a reward. After all I wouldn't have her if not for you." Seeing the

incomprehension on Severus' face, Voldemort continued "It was you that pointed out that

not every country was as meticulous in keeping track of their mud-bloods as Britain. She

is a 16 year old untrained mudblood." Voldemort said with satisfaction, "quite hard to

find, but there are a few. Not everyone has one of those marvelous little books like

Dumbledor." He said that name like it was a nasty word. "She's yours; slave,

apprentice, wife, whatever you want of her." Voldemort smiled in a cold way and laid

his hand on Severus' shoulder in a gross perversion of a fatherly gesture.