Severus Snape sat on his leather couch in his private chambers, and the
book he was reading fell in an instant from his hands. A moment later he
joined the worn leather and parchment as he crumpled to the ground.
Peeling up his sleeve, the Dark Mark burnt black.
A pain like this only meant one thing: urgency. He would not, regrettably, have time to go to Dumbledore. The pain had to be stopped *now*. Snape stood slowly. His knees wobbled a bit under him, and he grabbed the arm of the couch for support.
"Gwydion!" His voice was a hoarse whisper, pain emanating through it. The dark eagle, which was perched on a stand by one of his windows, hopped to life and soared over to his master. Snape fumbled for the quill on his desk. "Parchment!" He choked, and the eagle sprang into action. Snape held his quill over the paper shakily, his hand faltering as the stinging spread over his entire arm. He put the note in the bird's beak and forced the words to come.
"To Dumbledore." And the bird was off, letting himself out of the window. Snape stood shakily, using his couch as a crutch until he finally willed his legs to hold him. Taking out his wand, he murmured a special sort of concealing spell. This way he would be able to walk through the halls looking his usual self, even if he did seem grimmer than normal. The spell would allow him to walk...but it would not lessen the pain. There was nothing that would soften the sharp sting of the Dark Mark, until the Dark Lord called it off. Grimacing, Snape set off for the outer gates of the castle, where he could apparate.
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Hermione stifled a yelp of horror as Malfoy shoved his face into hers, stealing her mouth in a hard kiss. His lips smashed into hers, his tongue probed her, trying to get entrance into her mouth. When she denied him he bit her bottom lip, drawing blood. In the second Hermione opened her lips to scream in pain, he pushed his tongue angrily into her.
Hermione shut her eyes. She couldn't bear to see Malfoy's face as he rammed his tongue inside of her, his teeth bruising her white skin. Over and over in her head she tried to imagine herself on a nice beach, somewhere soft, sandy, and warm. In her mind she pictured Severus there with her...protecting her from harm. It was taking all of her strength to hold on to the picture she had in her mind, and she was barely away of Malfoy's hands running over her body roughly. She clenched her eyes shut as he pulled hard on her nipples, and a groan of pain was left unheard, the noise absorbed into Malfoy's mouth.
Hermione concentrated. On her beach she was drinking a pina colada and the waves were creating a cool, peaceful sound. In her mind she tried as hard as she could to will herself there, away from this terrible ordeal. When she cracked an eye open, Malfoy's face still leered down at her. His hands roamed over her, leaving not an inch untouched. Quickly he drowned three thick fingers into her core, and this time Hermione finally allowed herself the luxury of screaming. She knew that she had only given in to them as her gasps of pain wailed out, but she couldn't help it. He pumped his hand into her, the heel of it coming down repeatedly, mercilessly on her clit. He had horrified her, not aroused her, and she wasn't wet. There was no lubrication as his fingers moved carelessly inside her. Another scream rang out, and Malfoy kissed her. Cold laughter rang around her head, and she seemed to be spinning. Her beach was floating farther and farther away...bringing Hermione crashing back into reality. A thought came across her mind, and as Malfoy's tongue was probing deeper and deeper into her throat until she thought she would gag, she reacted. Her teeth sunk down into his tongue as hard as she could. In an instant she tasted the hard metallic flavor of blood. Malfoy gave a startled groan and pulled back immediately. A hand flew up to his mouth as he caressed his lips, a belligerent expression on his face.
"You fucking Mudblood bitch." He growled, and then to Hermione's horror he smiled. "So you like it rough." A wicked grin spread over him, and her eyes grew wide in terror. This was not how she thought he would react. More laughter from the Death Eaters rang around her. Malfoy approached her again, and took off his robe. He cast a warming spell on himself so that the chilly air would leave him untouched as Hermione shivered and shook on the cold earth. He was an inch away from her face, his wild eyes driving into her very soul, making her feel dirty and stupid. Voldemort was watching the scene before him eagerly when he heard a familiar plopping noise.
"Malfoy." He sneered, as the faint sound grew louder. "Hurry it up and fuck her...we have a guest arriving shortly."
Hermione tensed. 'Severus!' Malfoy snickered and advanced. He clambered on top of her, crushing and bruising her with his weight. She turned her head just in time to see a figure appear out of the air. It was Snape. Hermione tried to call out her lover's name, but her attempts were thwarted by Malfoy covering her mouth with his again. He bit into her this time, and her whole body tensed as waves of pain rolled over her: him biting her lips, his fingers digging into her, his weight crushing her to the hard ground.
Snape barely had time to register what was going on in front of him before he was tackled to the ground. Macnair found his wand in his cloak pocket while Samantha pinned him to the ground. Snape was too shocked to fight back for a minute, but that was too long. He found himself covered with two strong men while Voldemort watched, amused. He whispered instructions to the men and Snape found himself being thrown against the wall of the old house. Dust dirtied his cloak as he was pushed around. Lose planks of siding fell to the ground, creating a cloud of dust that temporarily blocked his view. He hadn't even seen Hermione yet.
Through fearful eyes Hermione watched as her lover was magically pinned to the side of the house like she was pinned to the ground. She wasn't sure if he had seen her or not, but the answer became clear as he turned his head in time to see Malfoy guiding his penis over her body. Shock, disgust and then anger reflected in his eyes as Hermione called to him with hers in a silent plea for help. He was only ten feet away! Malfoy stirred, looking up from his work on Hermione to gaze bemusedly at Snape.
"Pretty girl you have here." He spoke, his words icy and dangerous. "For a Mudblood." He spat on Hermione then, and she turned her face away to try to escape, but it was useless.
Voldemort stared at the two lovers before him with a hateful sneer. He walked to Snape, who looked him challengingly in the eyes without fear. Voldemort gave a half-smile.
"So we meet again Snape." His hand struck a blow to Snape's chin, knocking his head to the side. Snape spat, not letting Voldemort see any sign of weakness. "Ah," He breathed, the smallest bit of pride in his voice. "I've taught you well." Snape glared at him.
"Not well enough however, I see, for you to fool me with your treachery and traitory. And for that you will pay dearly my little Severus." Voldemort put a hand to Snape's cheek, who instantly threw his head to the side, trying to avoid his touch. When his hand was removed Hermione saw what looked like a burn mark. Snape said nothing. "Now I think we'll have Malfoy here fuck your little girlfriend over and over and over again until she *begs* for more. And if she doesn't..." A cruel smile shined on his lips. "Then I will tear her limb from limb as you watch. You know," he cast Snape a daring look before turning to pretend to be interested in the house. "I feel suddenly awash with nostalgia."
That's when it hit Hermione...this was the house Snape's mother had been killed in. Now Voldemort was going to take the only other person he had truly loved...her.
In his mind Snape was trying to be calm. The picture that had just unfolded in front of him threatened to chill him to the core. In front of him was his old, well "friend", Lucius Malfoy, who was now atop his love, Hermione. He scolded himself mentally, attempting to keep his cool. His outer features revealed nothing of the internal struggle he was going through. He had to figure out a plan.
Snape noticed something that Hermione probably hadn't dwelt on...Malfoy was drunk. Snape recalled his "friend's" drinking habits when they had been young Death Eaters together. Malfoy drank not to try to convince himself his actions were not horrible; he knew what he did was wrong and he prided himself on it. He drank not to inhibition himself, he was quite alright with following whatever orders his master gave him, and Snape recalled that once his friend had claimed that someone had forgotten to explain remorse to him as a child. He knew nothing of the feeling, nor, Snape knew, of being guilty. Why be guilty when he could blame someone else? Malfoy did not drink to cajole a more sexual side of himself. He loved sex. He used and abused women as often as he could. Voldemort had thought it rather entertaining and had made the raping of young girls, attractive women, or even frightened boys a frequent occasion. No. Lucius Malfoy drank to protect his pride. In the harsh reality of being sober, there was the fact that none of these victims had ever wanted him. He wouldn't stand a chance with them. Never would he have been able to get them into bed with them. Never. The thought had always bothered him, as he had confided to Severus in the earlier years of their pairing of Death Eaters. He drank to let loose that grip on reality, to let him indulge in the act he so thoroughly enjoyed without the slightest hint of rejection.
Alcohol, interestingly enough, had a strong effect on a wizard's magic. Since the stuff was created by Muggles, not a lot of wizards drank it. Therefore not a lot of wizards knew that it had a very negative effect on your ability to cast proper spells. Voldemort had missed this bit of information, as he was not a drinker. He condemned the Muggle practice simply because of what it was: Muggle. It was also interesting that Malfoy, who came from a very long and well-known pureblood family, enjoyed the substance quite immensely. Snape had heard the story a few times. As a young wizard Malfoy had raped a Muggle girl he particularly liked. His father had been very strict and imposing on the fact that he should not have any relationship with any person who was not a complete pureblood. He had fucked the girl in rebellion, making sure his father found out about it. What he happened to find, in the girl's oversized purse, was a bottle of wine. He had been hooked ever since. Voldemort had never had experience with the stuff, so he was not able to discern that Malfoy came to his Death Eater outings trashed when he knew they were having a night on the town. 'Ah,' Snape thought. 'The easy way to fool oneself...to temporarily forget one's problems.'
Snape had never told Malfoy of what exactly the effect was that the wine had on his magic. In his earlier years he had enjoyed looking the superior wizard to Malfoy's blubbering and sometimes total fucking up of a curse. Tonight, for the first time, he felt intrinsically grateful that Malfoy was drunk.
Snape was a powerful wizard. He had been trained by the best of the best; Voldemort and Dumbledore. Under normal circumstances it would be extremely hard to resist a Death Eater's spell (Voldemort had all trained them to be superb at what they did, and if that failed, he had perfected a charm to make them more powerful). This, however, was not a normal spell. Another thing that the Dark Lord didn't know was that Malfoy had also gotten a few other Death Eaters hooked on the mood altering substance. When they had bound him to the house, Snape has noticed the foul smell of vodka on their breath. No, this was not a powerful spell. *This* was an alcohol induced spell. Snape twisted very gently against the manacles his wrists were in, held to the wall of the house. They were loose.
Waiting until Voldemort had turned his head, but not waiting long enough for Malfoy to shove that disgrace of a penis inside his lover, he conjured all of his sheer strength to break free of his hold. He moved silently, and held his hands up as if he were still tied. The Death Eaters were too busy watching Malfoy try to force his cock into Hermione's mouth to see him inch forward bit by bit. Soon his wand was in reach, and ever so slowly, ever so silently, Snape took it from its spot on the ground. His foot reached out noiselessly as he rolled it into arm's reach. Then, wordlessly, he made his way back to the side of the house.
When John Samantha took in Snape's slender form on the wall nothing looked amiss. He wore a disgusted expression and his hands were pinned magically to the house. He returned his eyes to the woman sprawled naked on the ground.
Snape took a deep breath. It was now or never. Closing his eyes for a moment and gathering his courage, he took one last look at Hermione. Her eyes pleaded with him for help, she hadn't seen him grasp his wand. It was better for her not to know, he didn't want her causing worried glances his way. The next minute her face was blocked from view as she thrashed about, avoiding Malfoy's slick and dangerous touch.
There were only three Death Eaters, Voldemort, Hermione, and himself. Snape whispered a few complex spells. He watched as Hermione's wand evaporated from the spot in Malfoy's pocket and was drawn to him, still not in solid form. When his fingers touched the almost invisible cloud of air it reappeared as a solid, and he took it left-handed. It always took two wands to perform the Summonus Lettering spell. Gathering his strength he held the two wands close together and spoke the words.
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Meanwhile...in Hogwarts...Headmaster Dumbledore's wand was acting strangely. The old wizard looked on gingerly as the wand left his hand, levitated, and formed a paragraph of writing in the air. There was no time to waste. Dumbledore instantly charmed his voice to travel throughout the school, and he called a few of the teachers. He was going to need some help in defeating a circle of Death Eaters, even despite their small numbers.
A pain like this only meant one thing: urgency. He would not, regrettably, have time to go to Dumbledore. The pain had to be stopped *now*. Snape stood slowly. His knees wobbled a bit under him, and he grabbed the arm of the couch for support.
"Gwydion!" His voice was a hoarse whisper, pain emanating through it. The dark eagle, which was perched on a stand by one of his windows, hopped to life and soared over to his master. Snape fumbled for the quill on his desk. "Parchment!" He choked, and the eagle sprang into action. Snape held his quill over the paper shakily, his hand faltering as the stinging spread over his entire arm. He put the note in the bird's beak and forced the words to come.
"To Dumbledore." And the bird was off, letting himself out of the window. Snape stood shakily, using his couch as a crutch until he finally willed his legs to hold him. Taking out his wand, he murmured a special sort of concealing spell. This way he would be able to walk through the halls looking his usual self, even if he did seem grimmer than normal. The spell would allow him to walk...but it would not lessen the pain. There was nothing that would soften the sharp sting of the Dark Mark, until the Dark Lord called it off. Grimacing, Snape set off for the outer gates of the castle, where he could apparate.
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Hermione stifled a yelp of horror as Malfoy shoved his face into hers, stealing her mouth in a hard kiss. His lips smashed into hers, his tongue probed her, trying to get entrance into her mouth. When she denied him he bit her bottom lip, drawing blood. In the second Hermione opened her lips to scream in pain, he pushed his tongue angrily into her.
Hermione shut her eyes. She couldn't bear to see Malfoy's face as he rammed his tongue inside of her, his teeth bruising her white skin. Over and over in her head she tried to imagine herself on a nice beach, somewhere soft, sandy, and warm. In her mind she pictured Severus there with her...protecting her from harm. It was taking all of her strength to hold on to the picture she had in her mind, and she was barely away of Malfoy's hands running over her body roughly. She clenched her eyes shut as he pulled hard on her nipples, and a groan of pain was left unheard, the noise absorbed into Malfoy's mouth.
Hermione concentrated. On her beach she was drinking a pina colada and the waves were creating a cool, peaceful sound. In her mind she tried as hard as she could to will herself there, away from this terrible ordeal. When she cracked an eye open, Malfoy's face still leered down at her. His hands roamed over her, leaving not an inch untouched. Quickly he drowned three thick fingers into her core, and this time Hermione finally allowed herself the luxury of screaming. She knew that she had only given in to them as her gasps of pain wailed out, but she couldn't help it. He pumped his hand into her, the heel of it coming down repeatedly, mercilessly on her clit. He had horrified her, not aroused her, and she wasn't wet. There was no lubrication as his fingers moved carelessly inside her. Another scream rang out, and Malfoy kissed her. Cold laughter rang around her head, and she seemed to be spinning. Her beach was floating farther and farther away...bringing Hermione crashing back into reality. A thought came across her mind, and as Malfoy's tongue was probing deeper and deeper into her throat until she thought she would gag, she reacted. Her teeth sunk down into his tongue as hard as she could. In an instant she tasted the hard metallic flavor of blood. Malfoy gave a startled groan and pulled back immediately. A hand flew up to his mouth as he caressed his lips, a belligerent expression on his face.
"You fucking Mudblood bitch." He growled, and then to Hermione's horror he smiled. "So you like it rough." A wicked grin spread over him, and her eyes grew wide in terror. This was not how she thought he would react. More laughter from the Death Eaters rang around her. Malfoy approached her again, and took off his robe. He cast a warming spell on himself so that the chilly air would leave him untouched as Hermione shivered and shook on the cold earth. He was an inch away from her face, his wild eyes driving into her very soul, making her feel dirty and stupid. Voldemort was watching the scene before him eagerly when he heard a familiar plopping noise.
"Malfoy." He sneered, as the faint sound grew louder. "Hurry it up and fuck her...we have a guest arriving shortly."
Hermione tensed. 'Severus!' Malfoy snickered and advanced. He clambered on top of her, crushing and bruising her with his weight. She turned her head just in time to see a figure appear out of the air. It was Snape. Hermione tried to call out her lover's name, but her attempts were thwarted by Malfoy covering her mouth with his again. He bit into her this time, and her whole body tensed as waves of pain rolled over her: him biting her lips, his fingers digging into her, his weight crushing her to the hard ground.
Snape barely had time to register what was going on in front of him before he was tackled to the ground. Macnair found his wand in his cloak pocket while Samantha pinned him to the ground. Snape was too shocked to fight back for a minute, but that was too long. He found himself covered with two strong men while Voldemort watched, amused. He whispered instructions to the men and Snape found himself being thrown against the wall of the old house. Dust dirtied his cloak as he was pushed around. Lose planks of siding fell to the ground, creating a cloud of dust that temporarily blocked his view. He hadn't even seen Hermione yet.
Through fearful eyes Hermione watched as her lover was magically pinned to the side of the house like she was pinned to the ground. She wasn't sure if he had seen her or not, but the answer became clear as he turned his head in time to see Malfoy guiding his penis over her body. Shock, disgust and then anger reflected in his eyes as Hermione called to him with hers in a silent plea for help. He was only ten feet away! Malfoy stirred, looking up from his work on Hermione to gaze bemusedly at Snape.
"Pretty girl you have here." He spoke, his words icy and dangerous. "For a Mudblood." He spat on Hermione then, and she turned her face away to try to escape, but it was useless.
Voldemort stared at the two lovers before him with a hateful sneer. He walked to Snape, who looked him challengingly in the eyes without fear. Voldemort gave a half-smile.
"So we meet again Snape." His hand struck a blow to Snape's chin, knocking his head to the side. Snape spat, not letting Voldemort see any sign of weakness. "Ah," He breathed, the smallest bit of pride in his voice. "I've taught you well." Snape glared at him.
"Not well enough however, I see, for you to fool me with your treachery and traitory. And for that you will pay dearly my little Severus." Voldemort put a hand to Snape's cheek, who instantly threw his head to the side, trying to avoid his touch. When his hand was removed Hermione saw what looked like a burn mark. Snape said nothing. "Now I think we'll have Malfoy here fuck your little girlfriend over and over and over again until she *begs* for more. And if she doesn't..." A cruel smile shined on his lips. "Then I will tear her limb from limb as you watch. You know," he cast Snape a daring look before turning to pretend to be interested in the house. "I feel suddenly awash with nostalgia."
That's when it hit Hermione...this was the house Snape's mother had been killed in. Now Voldemort was going to take the only other person he had truly loved...her.
In his mind Snape was trying to be calm. The picture that had just unfolded in front of him threatened to chill him to the core. In front of him was his old, well "friend", Lucius Malfoy, who was now atop his love, Hermione. He scolded himself mentally, attempting to keep his cool. His outer features revealed nothing of the internal struggle he was going through. He had to figure out a plan.
Snape noticed something that Hermione probably hadn't dwelt on...Malfoy was drunk. Snape recalled his "friend's" drinking habits when they had been young Death Eaters together. Malfoy drank not to try to convince himself his actions were not horrible; he knew what he did was wrong and he prided himself on it. He drank not to inhibition himself, he was quite alright with following whatever orders his master gave him, and Snape recalled that once his friend had claimed that someone had forgotten to explain remorse to him as a child. He knew nothing of the feeling, nor, Snape knew, of being guilty. Why be guilty when he could blame someone else? Malfoy did not drink to cajole a more sexual side of himself. He loved sex. He used and abused women as often as he could. Voldemort had thought it rather entertaining and had made the raping of young girls, attractive women, or even frightened boys a frequent occasion. No. Lucius Malfoy drank to protect his pride. In the harsh reality of being sober, there was the fact that none of these victims had ever wanted him. He wouldn't stand a chance with them. Never would he have been able to get them into bed with them. Never. The thought had always bothered him, as he had confided to Severus in the earlier years of their pairing of Death Eaters. He drank to let loose that grip on reality, to let him indulge in the act he so thoroughly enjoyed without the slightest hint of rejection.
Alcohol, interestingly enough, had a strong effect on a wizard's magic. Since the stuff was created by Muggles, not a lot of wizards drank it. Therefore not a lot of wizards knew that it had a very negative effect on your ability to cast proper spells. Voldemort had missed this bit of information, as he was not a drinker. He condemned the Muggle practice simply because of what it was: Muggle. It was also interesting that Malfoy, who came from a very long and well-known pureblood family, enjoyed the substance quite immensely. Snape had heard the story a few times. As a young wizard Malfoy had raped a Muggle girl he particularly liked. His father had been very strict and imposing on the fact that he should not have any relationship with any person who was not a complete pureblood. He had fucked the girl in rebellion, making sure his father found out about it. What he happened to find, in the girl's oversized purse, was a bottle of wine. He had been hooked ever since. Voldemort had never had experience with the stuff, so he was not able to discern that Malfoy came to his Death Eater outings trashed when he knew they were having a night on the town. 'Ah,' Snape thought. 'The easy way to fool oneself...to temporarily forget one's problems.'
Snape had never told Malfoy of what exactly the effect was that the wine had on his magic. In his earlier years he had enjoyed looking the superior wizard to Malfoy's blubbering and sometimes total fucking up of a curse. Tonight, for the first time, he felt intrinsically grateful that Malfoy was drunk.
Snape was a powerful wizard. He had been trained by the best of the best; Voldemort and Dumbledore. Under normal circumstances it would be extremely hard to resist a Death Eater's spell (Voldemort had all trained them to be superb at what they did, and if that failed, he had perfected a charm to make them more powerful). This, however, was not a normal spell. Another thing that the Dark Lord didn't know was that Malfoy had also gotten a few other Death Eaters hooked on the mood altering substance. When they had bound him to the house, Snape has noticed the foul smell of vodka on their breath. No, this was not a powerful spell. *This* was an alcohol induced spell. Snape twisted very gently against the manacles his wrists were in, held to the wall of the house. They were loose.
Waiting until Voldemort had turned his head, but not waiting long enough for Malfoy to shove that disgrace of a penis inside his lover, he conjured all of his sheer strength to break free of his hold. He moved silently, and held his hands up as if he were still tied. The Death Eaters were too busy watching Malfoy try to force his cock into Hermione's mouth to see him inch forward bit by bit. Soon his wand was in reach, and ever so slowly, ever so silently, Snape took it from its spot on the ground. His foot reached out noiselessly as he rolled it into arm's reach. Then, wordlessly, he made his way back to the side of the house.
When John Samantha took in Snape's slender form on the wall nothing looked amiss. He wore a disgusted expression and his hands were pinned magically to the house. He returned his eyes to the woman sprawled naked on the ground.
Snape took a deep breath. It was now or never. Closing his eyes for a moment and gathering his courage, he took one last look at Hermione. Her eyes pleaded with him for help, she hadn't seen him grasp his wand. It was better for her not to know, he didn't want her causing worried glances his way. The next minute her face was blocked from view as she thrashed about, avoiding Malfoy's slick and dangerous touch.
There were only three Death Eaters, Voldemort, Hermione, and himself. Snape whispered a few complex spells. He watched as Hermione's wand evaporated from the spot in Malfoy's pocket and was drawn to him, still not in solid form. When his fingers touched the almost invisible cloud of air it reappeared as a solid, and he took it left-handed. It always took two wands to perform the Summonus Lettering spell. Gathering his strength he held the two wands close together and spoke the words.
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Meanwhile...in Hogwarts...Headmaster Dumbledore's wand was acting strangely. The old wizard looked on gingerly as the wand left his hand, levitated, and formed a paragraph of writing in the air. There was no time to waste. Dumbledore instantly charmed his voice to travel throughout the school, and he called a few of the teachers. He was going to need some help in defeating a circle of Death Eaters, even despite their small numbers.