Wonderful, Wonderful People: LizSnape, BlueWater, J.S. Sumner, Pent-up-
dragon and Arachne's Child.
You all made my day! Thank you very much for reviewing. I am telepathically sending good vibes and magical wishes your way.
J.S. Sumner: thanks for letting me know about the difficulty in reading due to the formatting; I've decided to leave lines between each speaker, and also new paragraphs. Tell me if it helps at all.
This chapter took a surprisingly long time to write, due entirely to laziness on my part.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Act 1
Passion is Fire, Passion is Burning Desire:
Where Snape receives a Summons and first encounters our Heroine. The Forests Burn to the Wizards' tune.
Severus Snape,
You are expected to attend a gathering of friends tonight at approx. midnight. Bring appropriate attire.
Malfoy
Snape checked the clock on the wall. It was nearing twelve, and he frowned, leaning back against the worn leather of his armchair. He read through the letter again, looking for the undertones that could reveal the purpose of the meeting. He could gauge only one fact: that Voldemort was not attending, otherwise he would already be in severe discomfort and there would be no need for Lucius' 'friendly' note. As it was, he could only feel a slight itch on his scar, and he smirked. Malfoy's attempt to manipulate the mark was utterly pathetic. If he himself had wanted to summon the other deatheaters, he would have caused the scar to feel like it was on fire, the throbbing pain spreading rapidly up the arm and the burning agony rushing into the chest would force the deatheaters to urgently apparate into his presence.
Not exactly a bad idea, he mused. He suddenly stood and strode quickly into his bedroom, opening the mahogany doors of his wardrobe. He grimaced as he saw his reflection in the mirror on the inside of the door raise an eyebrow at him.
"Off again?" His mirror image sneered at him, and continued in a hollow voice: "Well, do be sure to enjoy yourself."
His mood became more serious as he watched himself in the mirror fastening his deatheater cloak over his heavy black robes, making no concession to the heat outside. He held the bone-white mask up against his face and his expression hardened.
This was sheer torture, forcing himself into the company of brown-nosing bastards like Malfoy whenever they commanded. But then, Snape thought, he deserved this. He deserved worse. He gripped his wand and apparated.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Snape arrived in an illuminated forest clearing filled with deatheaters. The night was warm, the country in the throes of a heat wave. He retained a strong hold on his wand, but kept it hidden in the folds of his robes as he surveyed his surroundings. A powerful lumos spell had been cast over the area, causing the stars to be blacked out and the sky to change from its usual seasonal deep blue hue to an uneasy copper colour. The deatheaters were huddled in small circles, but all loosely formed a large perimeter around the elite of Voldemort's servants, where Snape recognised Malfoy's supercilious tones. He pushed his way through the lower ranks and strode purposefully towards the center of the clearing.
Malfoy caught sight of Snape almost immediately and rushed to meet him halfway. Both men stopped dead. Lucius straightened his back and tried in vain to appear taller, standing in front of Snape as if to block his view of the other deatheaters. Snape forced a smile beneath his mask and Lucius interpreted his silence as a signal to begin the same tirade that Snape was forced to listen to at every deatheater meeting since Voldemort's return.
".And I must say, Snape, I'm almost surprised to see you here. You rarely show up unless the Dark Lord explicitly orders you to appear-"
Snape hastily interrupted with his own frequently used lines, explaining again how difficult it was becoming to avoid Dumbledore's scrutiny. Both deatheaters took turns to abuse the Headmaster's name, with Lucius introducing several new insults. Snape desperately tried to forget them as soon as they were heard, as Dumbledore took great delight in chiding Snape into revealing any new slurs.
Malfoy continued in the same condescending voice: "Anyway, Snape, I suppose you're wondering why I asked you here tonight- the reason being that as a result of. certain setbacks in the Dark Lord's plans, morale among His faithful servants has been rather low of late. To rectify this, I've been authorised to arrange a series of deatheater meetings, much like those we used to have, where we would strengthen ourselves and our Master, while using, and then disposing of the. lesser inhabitants of the species."
With this statement, Snape immediately felt the bile rise up his throat and forced himself to control the urge to heave. He knew exactly what Malfoy meant - the abduction, rape and murder of any number of muggle women, even the pureblood wives and daughters of any man that dared oppose Voldemort. These kinds of meetings among the deatheaters had been frequent before Voldemort's fall and now, much to Snape's disgust, there looked to be a revival.
Snape wordlessly followed Malfoy to the other deatheaters, who appeared to be surrounding an altar of sorts. As they approached and the other deatheaters moved out of the way, he realised that a young woman was bound to the stone. She was still clothed; her arms were tied at the wrists and stretched above her head, and her legs forced apart with a rope that was magically fused into the stone. Malfoy continued his monologue, complaining that Goyle had been too rough in the capture and woman was damaged.
"Not that there's any point in wasting energy healing her, mind. She'll be dead soon enough, although Snape, you'll have to brew some more of that calming potion for my stocks. She wouldn't stop struggling and we had to give her quite a large dose to keep her quiet."
Another deatheater drew near and Snape heard Narcissa's simpering voice appeal to her husband from beneath her mask. "Isn't she pretty? Lucius, darling, could I go first? I do hate having to go after everyone else has mucked them up."
Snape ignored the Malfoys' bickering and began to subtly examine the woman's appearance. He knew he would need to give an accurate description of her to Dumbledore, so arrangements could be made with her family. She was tanned, of average height and of a slim build. She was young, and had dull brown eyes that she used to stare dazedly up at Snape, then the sky, and then the rope holding her down. Snape found himself disagreeing with Narcissa. The girl could not accurately be described as 'pretty', although she was oddly attractive, in spite of the dried blood on her forehead and the bruises on her neck that marked Goyle's oafishness. She was wearing a dark red shirt with ill-fitting black trousers that fell low on her hips; both articles of clothing were made of some cheap muggle material as was evident by the tears on her sleeves.
Malfoy's wife was now twirling and wrapping the girl's loose locks of long, wavy black hair around her fingers, as Lucius explained in a bored tone exactly why she would have to wait her turn.
".And my dear, you know the ritual won't work unless a man goes first to complete it, which is why I think Severus should have the honour for once."
Snape stiffened. Lucius was obviously testing him, but Snape couldn't see why exactly the deatheater would give up one of his favored privileges for the purpose. Snape tried to find a good reason to decline, but could think of none that wouldn't cause Voldemort to be immediately notified of his behaviour and have his less subtle past actions called in for review.
He continued surveying the woman as before, searching for any distinguishing features that would aid in identification afterwards. She had no scars, moles or birthmarks, at least, none currently visible. He closed his eyes momentarily, groaning inwardly as he realised that he would very soon have plenty of time to also check underneath her clothing, and Snape dreaded the imminent event.
Another sin to confess to Dumbledore, he thought grimly. He caught sight of movement by the girl's neck and reached into her shirt, pulling out a silver pendant that had slipped down over her collarbone. He unclasped the chain and pulled it free, examining the connecting silver disc carefully. The name 'Corinna' was engraved in a flowing script across its diameter, while the other side was blank.
"Keeping souvenirs, Snape?" Hissed Bellatrix, her reddened eyes visible through the eyeholes of her mask. Snape wasted no time in turning to glare at her and she moved away, muttering audible insults under her breath.
Malfoy raised his wand to signal the beginning of the ritual. The other deatheaters fell silent and began to form circles around the altar with Snape closest to the bound woman in the innermost circle. The girl was beginning to grow aware of her predicament as the potion wore off and she was now struggling against the ropes. She looked directly at Snape, her fear darkening her eyes.
As one, the deatheaters aimed their wands at the girl and began to chant in unison. Snape stared back at the girl, pitying and envying her in equal measures for her imminent death. With the others, Snape repeated the spell over and over again, growing steadily louder as the pace increased. He alone watched her eyes as the fear was slowly replaced by an angry determination.
He could feel the energy flowing through his wand and he blinked, jerking his arm away. He heard the dry crackling of the ground at his feet over the monotonous drone of the others, and looked down to see the sparks fly between the blades of grass. He leapt back, breaking the circle as the parched grass surrounding the altar ignited into flames that rushed outwards in tangled lines, causing the deatheaters to scatter. Snape calmly strode to a patch of earth devoid of any foliage and watched the panic spread among the others. A stupid few retreated in amongst the trees to escape the blaze, while others whose robes had caught fire ran around shrieking like banshees.
Snape waited until a fuming Malfoy grabbed his hysterical wife and used his wand to spray her with water before the pair disapparated, leaving Snape to murmur a protective charm and walk unnoticed through the flames towards the altar. Snape smirked as he stepped over a de-masked Goyle who was rolling on the burning ground in his pathetic attempt to put out his cloak, but on seeing the bare stone altar the smirk instantly vanished as he realised the girl was gone. He spun around, his eyes searching furiously for her - none of the others had approached the altar, he would have noticed. He caught a glimpse of red moving fast through the trees and he set off after her; she had been injured previously and was now likely suffering from burns, as well as having been physically weakened by the ritual.
Snape advanced silently and speedily through the trees - he would take her to Hogwarts for treatment, Dumbledore would need to alter her memory. He heard a twig snap a few metres ahead and he paused, keeping his wand held tightly in his fist as his eyes scanned for movement in the dark.
You all made my day! Thank you very much for reviewing. I am telepathically sending good vibes and magical wishes your way.
J.S. Sumner: thanks for letting me know about the difficulty in reading due to the formatting; I've decided to leave lines between each speaker, and also new paragraphs. Tell me if it helps at all.
This chapter took a surprisingly long time to write, due entirely to laziness on my part.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Act 1
Passion is Fire, Passion is Burning Desire:
Where Snape receives a Summons and first encounters our Heroine. The Forests Burn to the Wizards' tune.
Severus Snape,
You are expected to attend a gathering of friends tonight at approx. midnight. Bring appropriate attire.
Malfoy
Snape checked the clock on the wall. It was nearing twelve, and he frowned, leaning back against the worn leather of his armchair. He read through the letter again, looking for the undertones that could reveal the purpose of the meeting. He could gauge only one fact: that Voldemort was not attending, otherwise he would already be in severe discomfort and there would be no need for Lucius' 'friendly' note. As it was, he could only feel a slight itch on his scar, and he smirked. Malfoy's attempt to manipulate the mark was utterly pathetic. If he himself had wanted to summon the other deatheaters, he would have caused the scar to feel like it was on fire, the throbbing pain spreading rapidly up the arm and the burning agony rushing into the chest would force the deatheaters to urgently apparate into his presence.
Not exactly a bad idea, he mused. He suddenly stood and strode quickly into his bedroom, opening the mahogany doors of his wardrobe. He grimaced as he saw his reflection in the mirror on the inside of the door raise an eyebrow at him.
"Off again?" His mirror image sneered at him, and continued in a hollow voice: "Well, do be sure to enjoy yourself."
His mood became more serious as he watched himself in the mirror fastening his deatheater cloak over his heavy black robes, making no concession to the heat outside. He held the bone-white mask up against his face and his expression hardened.
This was sheer torture, forcing himself into the company of brown-nosing bastards like Malfoy whenever they commanded. But then, Snape thought, he deserved this. He deserved worse. He gripped his wand and apparated.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Snape arrived in an illuminated forest clearing filled with deatheaters. The night was warm, the country in the throes of a heat wave. He retained a strong hold on his wand, but kept it hidden in the folds of his robes as he surveyed his surroundings. A powerful lumos spell had been cast over the area, causing the stars to be blacked out and the sky to change from its usual seasonal deep blue hue to an uneasy copper colour. The deatheaters were huddled in small circles, but all loosely formed a large perimeter around the elite of Voldemort's servants, where Snape recognised Malfoy's supercilious tones. He pushed his way through the lower ranks and strode purposefully towards the center of the clearing.
Malfoy caught sight of Snape almost immediately and rushed to meet him halfway. Both men stopped dead. Lucius straightened his back and tried in vain to appear taller, standing in front of Snape as if to block his view of the other deatheaters. Snape forced a smile beneath his mask and Lucius interpreted his silence as a signal to begin the same tirade that Snape was forced to listen to at every deatheater meeting since Voldemort's return.
".And I must say, Snape, I'm almost surprised to see you here. You rarely show up unless the Dark Lord explicitly orders you to appear-"
Snape hastily interrupted with his own frequently used lines, explaining again how difficult it was becoming to avoid Dumbledore's scrutiny. Both deatheaters took turns to abuse the Headmaster's name, with Lucius introducing several new insults. Snape desperately tried to forget them as soon as they were heard, as Dumbledore took great delight in chiding Snape into revealing any new slurs.
Malfoy continued in the same condescending voice: "Anyway, Snape, I suppose you're wondering why I asked you here tonight- the reason being that as a result of. certain setbacks in the Dark Lord's plans, morale among His faithful servants has been rather low of late. To rectify this, I've been authorised to arrange a series of deatheater meetings, much like those we used to have, where we would strengthen ourselves and our Master, while using, and then disposing of the. lesser inhabitants of the species."
With this statement, Snape immediately felt the bile rise up his throat and forced himself to control the urge to heave. He knew exactly what Malfoy meant - the abduction, rape and murder of any number of muggle women, even the pureblood wives and daughters of any man that dared oppose Voldemort. These kinds of meetings among the deatheaters had been frequent before Voldemort's fall and now, much to Snape's disgust, there looked to be a revival.
Snape wordlessly followed Malfoy to the other deatheaters, who appeared to be surrounding an altar of sorts. As they approached and the other deatheaters moved out of the way, he realised that a young woman was bound to the stone. She was still clothed; her arms were tied at the wrists and stretched above her head, and her legs forced apart with a rope that was magically fused into the stone. Malfoy continued his monologue, complaining that Goyle had been too rough in the capture and woman was damaged.
"Not that there's any point in wasting energy healing her, mind. She'll be dead soon enough, although Snape, you'll have to brew some more of that calming potion for my stocks. She wouldn't stop struggling and we had to give her quite a large dose to keep her quiet."
Another deatheater drew near and Snape heard Narcissa's simpering voice appeal to her husband from beneath her mask. "Isn't she pretty? Lucius, darling, could I go first? I do hate having to go after everyone else has mucked them up."
Snape ignored the Malfoys' bickering and began to subtly examine the woman's appearance. He knew he would need to give an accurate description of her to Dumbledore, so arrangements could be made with her family. She was tanned, of average height and of a slim build. She was young, and had dull brown eyes that she used to stare dazedly up at Snape, then the sky, and then the rope holding her down. Snape found himself disagreeing with Narcissa. The girl could not accurately be described as 'pretty', although she was oddly attractive, in spite of the dried blood on her forehead and the bruises on her neck that marked Goyle's oafishness. She was wearing a dark red shirt with ill-fitting black trousers that fell low on her hips; both articles of clothing were made of some cheap muggle material as was evident by the tears on her sleeves.
Malfoy's wife was now twirling and wrapping the girl's loose locks of long, wavy black hair around her fingers, as Lucius explained in a bored tone exactly why she would have to wait her turn.
".And my dear, you know the ritual won't work unless a man goes first to complete it, which is why I think Severus should have the honour for once."
Snape stiffened. Lucius was obviously testing him, but Snape couldn't see why exactly the deatheater would give up one of his favored privileges for the purpose. Snape tried to find a good reason to decline, but could think of none that wouldn't cause Voldemort to be immediately notified of his behaviour and have his less subtle past actions called in for review.
He continued surveying the woman as before, searching for any distinguishing features that would aid in identification afterwards. She had no scars, moles or birthmarks, at least, none currently visible. He closed his eyes momentarily, groaning inwardly as he realised that he would very soon have plenty of time to also check underneath her clothing, and Snape dreaded the imminent event.
Another sin to confess to Dumbledore, he thought grimly. He caught sight of movement by the girl's neck and reached into her shirt, pulling out a silver pendant that had slipped down over her collarbone. He unclasped the chain and pulled it free, examining the connecting silver disc carefully. The name 'Corinna' was engraved in a flowing script across its diameter, while the other side was blank.
"Keeping souvenirs, Snape?" Hissed Bellatrix, her reddened eyes visible through the eyeholes of her mask. Snape wasted no time in turning to glare at her and she moved away, muttering audible insults under her breath.
Malfoy raised his wand to signal the beginning of the ritual. The other deatheaters fell silent and began to form circles around the altar with Snape closest to the bound woman in the innermost circle. The girl was beginning to grow aware of her predicament as the potion wore off and she was now struggling against the ropes. She looked directly at Snape, her fear darkening her eyes.
As one, the deatheaters aimed their wands at the girl and began to chant in unison. Snape stared back at the girl, pitying and envying her in equal measures for her imminent death. With the others, Snape repeated the spell over and over again, growing steadily louder as the pace increased. He alone watched her eyes as the fear was slowly replaced by an angry determination.
He could feel the energy flowing through his wand and he blinked, jerking his arm away. He heard the dry crackling of the ground at his feet over the monotonous drone of the others, and looked down to see the sparks fly between the blades of grass. He leapt back, breaking the circle as the parched grass surrounding the altar ignited into flames that rushed outwards in tangled lines, causing the deatheaters to scatter. Snape calmly strode to a patch of earth devoid of any foliage and watched the panic spread among the others. A stupid few retreated in amongst the trees to escape the blaze, while others whose robes had caught fire ran around shrieking like banshees.
Snape waited until a fuming Malfoy grabbed his hysterical wife and used his wand to spray her with water before the pair disapparated, leaving Snape to murmur a protective charm and walk unnoticed through the flames towards the altar. Snape smirked as he stepped over a de-masked Goyle who was rolling on the burning ground in his pathetic attempt to put out his cloak, but on seeing the bare stone altar the smirk instantly vanished as he realised the girl was gone. He spun around, his eyes searching furiously for her - none of the others had approached the altar, he would have noticed. He caught a glimpse of red moving fast through the trees and he set off after her; she had been injured previously and was now likely suffering from burns, as well as having been physically weakened by the ritual.
Snape advanced silently and speedily through the trees - he would take her to Hogwarts for treatment, Dumbledore would need to alter her memory. He heard a twig snap a few metres ahead and he paused, keeping his wand held tightly in his fist as his eyes scanned for movement in the dark.