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"I'm sure Professor McGonagall will be devastated to hear of this. I would be absolutely appalled if this had been a member of my House." His cutting words traveled crisply through the air as Filch held three small boys firmly in his grasp - the two smallest ones he held a foot off the ground, the tallest stood between him and the dreaded Potions Master.

"Well how about we drop them off with her now? She'll be furious. Or should we watch them until tomorrow, Professor?" The haggard and shaggy warden revealed a set of rotting teeth accompanied by plenty of spaces, as he spoke. "These Gryffindor brats must be punished as soon as possible - we wouldn't want them thinking we were easy now."

"I would love them to accompany me in the dungeons for a while." The satisfied Potions Professor whispered, discussing the fate of the terrified children, then he addressed them directly with an evil, ominous glimmer in his eyes. Slowly he lifted his hand to the largest boy's cheek, who jumped immediately at the deathly stroke. "Imagine all the fun we could have; all four of us in my special little torture chamber kept especially for naughty little first-years who won't sleep at night." The boys trembled at the thought. But before their minds could wander any more, Snape suddenly grabbed the largest and most bigheaded brat by the front of his jumper, hauled him up into the air and held him there, flailing unsteadily for a moment. That got his attention. "You want a real reason to not sleep at night Johnson?" He growled. "I'll provide you with a reason - I will give you horrific nightmares that will keep you wide awake until Christmas. Get my drift?" Oh he got it alright, judging by the speed he ran off at. That poor child; he would be scarred for life. He had just crossed the wrong guy. However that one night extinguished all his adventurousness forever. Snape had that effect on people sometimes.

The only thing stopping Severus from taking the young Gryffindors for a midnight detention in his dungeon was simply that he didn't have much patience at this ungodly hour, and he decided it wouldn't be for the good of anyone's health if he left an evident trail of thoroughly disturbed children. So he calmly delegated the obligation of applying their appropriate punishments to the ever so delighted, Mr. Filch.

By two in the morning, all the long, stone corridors of Hogwarts appeared void of mischievous life, so Severus decided it was safe to knock off for the remaining hours until breakfast. As he glided smoothly across the marble floored entrance Hall, Severus felt right at home. From the ancient, elaborate engravings which decorated every doorway, to even the still, crisp air that lingers when darkness falls. But what he admired most about this castle was its ability to entertain a few hundred, rowdy children during the day and yet regain its austere nobility in the dead of night. It was in this time that the voices of the past could be heard, whispering mysteriously through the corridors. It was the stronghold itself communicating to those within. Sometimes if Severus wasn't tired, he would place his hands on the worn floors or the doors and open his mind to pick up the voices. He always got a reply. It told of the ancients who lived and died there, the famous battles that were won and lost, but most recently, they spoke of an old but formidable force that had returned to the school to fulfill a promise past, and another contrasting one to fulfill a future destiny. These words meant a little to him, but were not significant enough to report to Dumbledore. He had his rather strong suspicions as to who these 'forces' were, after all, it was also his job to monitor these suspects and gauge their potential danger to the students. Again, it was plainly spying, something he must be good at by now. 'When will it ever end?' He wonders, but such things are not for him to decide. 'Serve to Rule' was his theory, but somewhere along the line it didn't go quite according to plan. All he seemed to do was 'serve', then vent his frustrations on the weaker ones in society, namely, everyone.

His sable everyday cloak, slightly frayed at the bottom edge, still billowed in the cool draughts of the dungeons as he strode gracefully down the winding corridors leading to his classroom. Upon reaching the door, he stretched out his hand and traced the silver serpents in the centre of the door while whispering a few ancient words to arouse them. At the sound of his deep, vibrating masculine voice, their emerald eyes glowed as they uncoiled, revolved 3 times then returned to their original, entwined positions.

Once inside it was very clear that this was no longer his classroom, but his bedroom. This place that was rumoured by all to be a replicated medieval torture chamber was in fact, one of the most luxurious quarters in the school. The whole bedroom was the area of both his classroom and his storeroom and it included a bathroom (Jacuzzi!!), personal potion cabinet, complete four-poster iron-railed bed with rich, bottle green cotton covers, a beech working table, a wardrobe, a leather sofa, a huge bookcase crammed with literature, and an awe-inspiring, one-of-kind, full-length of the wall, motionless painting of the one, the only, Sir Salazar Slytherin. It was Severus' most valuable possession, although technically it belonged to Hogwarts. It was the grand masterpiece of its time. It was created well before magical moving paintings were made, but even still, Salazar's ever scrutinizing and penetrating snake-like eyes continue to radiate supremacy and autonomy all around.

As for the seemingly simple process of entering his bedchamber, well, it is only simple for him. Otherwise, those serpents are vicious and merciless. They are quick to bite those who even attempt to enter unauthorized, and their venom is undoubtedly a highly potent potion that the Master himself has concocted to be as excruciating and humiliating as possible. They are also utterly loyal and unaffected by any degree of magic used at Hogwarts. Normally they are uninteresting, solid metal plates in the doors. However, their special abilities originate in the beginnings of Hogwarts with their true master, Slytherin. So, upon reflection, there are no guesses as to what language the Head of the Slytherin House spoke. Only he could work a bit of Dark magic in Hogwarts and get away with it. Another thing is, the way he could walk up to his classroom door, and enter into his bedchamber. This is due to when the serpents' eyes glow and they revolve. What happens is a bit of an inter-dimensional illusion, like looking into the inside of a car and seeing a football pitch - it's virtual reality wizard style. Select and go.

Severus Snape swept off his cloak and slung it over the back of the rich burgundy, leather sofa and pulled a decanter of glowing green liquid out of the cabinet. With the quick, fluid movements applied in potion-making, the professor poured the absinthe solution into a silver goblet and added a pinch of red powder which caused it to sizzle and foam slightly as he took a sip. After the twisted smile that played around his mouth caused by the initial unpleasant sting of wormwood, he strolled over to the rather large fireplace and leant his shoulder against the mantle-piece, peering thoughtfully into the smoldering red fire. After a further sip from the goblet, he tastefully licked the foam from his upper lip, tipping back his head for a moment, then slipped his left hand calmly into his pocket and brought his right ankle to sit neatly behind the other. The absinthe solution was for him a painkiller and sleeping draught, though much stronger with the red powder - his special crushed brimstone. An unusual combination, but the effect could give him an instant energy boost and let him rest in peace, when he needed. The only disadvantages were the undesirable side-effects - dangerously low blood pressure, bitter breath, sometimes bloodshot eyes, forgetfulness of distant memories, relaxation of the facial muscles and depression as a withdrawal symptom. Then again, with a stronger concentration of brimstone, it could also be a potent aphrodisiac.

However, as he stood peacefully captivated by the random flickers of the flame, he felt his senses heighten and a growing sense of awareness of everything in the dark, gloomy room. Closing his eyes to the light, he let his mind become detached from his body. Deep in the moment, he reached out to test his mental powers to their limits while under the spell of the potion. Strangely, the first things he picked up, were two, low, passionate and suspiciously muffled voices coming from directly above him. He recognized them immediately. The male was a Gryffindor, the boy to match the voice would've been tall and lanky with intolerable red hair; the female, as much as it initially disgraced him, was a Slytherin of the name Pansy Parkinson. 'For Slytherin's sake, is Draco really that awful? What could possibly have driven her to such levels?' he wondered with sincere pity.

"Love, perhaps? You scrumptious piece of flesh." Suddenly a completely unknown voice walked straight into his head.

'What?!' Still floating about in his mind, he didn't reply out loud, but the shock of the random intrusion was evident. If he had have been about to swallow his drink, it would've been sprayed back into the fire by now. His mind had difficulty with the words 'you' and 'scrumptious piece of flesh' in the same sentence.

"I could teach you a few things about that. I'm always happy to educate in these matters." The rich, womanly voice continued smoothly.

'Excuse me! How? - Who -'

"Purr, talk about a view... black and green, my favourite. impeccable mind too. appropriate ethics.. very worthy indeed. damn right you're a Master of Slytherin, miaow."

Severus had to be now clearly horrified. It had to be some sort of prank. It was just too strange. The voice was unknown to him. or was it? Just then, it suddenly occurred to Severus that the voice wasn't aware that he could hear it. 'This could be. interesting.'

Straining his senses to find the person to whom the voice belonged, he couldn't pin-point their exact location, but it was obvious that they standing somewhere in that very room. Cursing himself for not discovering them sooner, he returned to his wits and opened his eyes. Penetrating every possible shadow with his piercing gaze, he found nothing. Not even hiding in a cupboard. If he had found someone alive in his room without his knowing, firstly he would've torn them apart in every way, but then commended them for their hitherto impossible achievement. However, he quickly realized he had to get to the bottom of this: what if was a spy for the Dark Lord sent to check on him? That would prove fatal. Unknown voices were always something to be highly cautious of, for who knows where their allegiances lie?

Severus calmly took his hand out of his pocket and slipped it inside his black and green sequined waistcoat, returning a moment later with a small, oval shaped mirror. Pretending to be examining the little mirror, he slowly swiveled it around at an angle that allowed him to observe all without moving his head. What he saw, was not the complete reflection of the room, but its outlines. The outlines of his bed, the door, the table, and faint, very faint human shadows that moved listlessly through space were just visible in an oblique blur. Then Severus stopped. He had found who he was searching for.

A beautiful Lady stood over by his bed, her arms twisted lasciviously around the nearest black iron pole. She was a beauty not from this world; that much he knew. Her aura was dark and powerful, reaching out to him, creeping trough the atmosphere. Her eyes glowed rich emerald, like the painting that hung on the wall. Her skin was the texture of thick cream; her visage bloodless yet cruelly voluptuous. A pink tongue darted out from between ivory teeth to moisten her full lips. Her hair was long, exotic, and pitch black like his. Once a long time ago, he mused, this woman would've been intensely passionate, exciting and Mediterranean. But for some reason, she changed. A Dark Force corrupted her willing and avaricious spirit. She must have let it happen voluntarily; she must have deeply loved the one who changed her. Severus felt great pity for her and yet at the same time, he was apprehensive at being so close to this ancient, sinister, seductive creature. He had no idea why she in his bedroom, how she got there, and why she seemed so interested in him, but he was especially curious as to what she was doing to that bed pole.

Severus replaced the mirror into his inner waistcoat pocket then reached out for his silver goblet and took a deep swig. 'Perhaps this stuff is going to my head' he thought as he gazed into the effervescence. After a moment he replaced the goblet and folded his arms, still leaning against the fireplace, and let his eyes once again fall on the flames below. But this time, he kept his wits about him and allowed his heightened senses to explore everything. Now he had to be wary of what he said, bearing in mind the volatile temperament of the mysterious, invisible woman who had not yet revealed her purpose for being there.

"What do you want?" The tall, dark man asked politely with only a hint of displeasure. A considerable silence followed.

"Just to introduce myself." The eloquent voice spoken aloud was even more seductive than before.

"And when, may I ask, were you planning to do that?"

"Well, not just yet, to be honest." She answered with a conniving edge to her tone. He didn't even know her, but he could tell there was strong irony in there somewhere. When the voice spoke again, its source had moved away from the bed.

"How did you know I was here?"

"I think I should be the one asking all the questions." He replied sharply. "Let's start with, who are you, why are you here, and who do you work for?" He realized he was seriously disadvantaged already in this interrogation - he couldn't even see the guilty party, so to disguise this, he locked gaze with the eternal fire. He should be safe with that.

"Then I will reply with, that should not be your concern, I'm here of my own accord and I work for no man alive." Every word was deadly serious. There was something in her selection of words that dared him to challenge her. Severus was not a man to miss subtleties; however, at times he just blatantly ignored the warning signals.

"Tell me, or the punishment will be so great, silence will not be worth your while." He whispered threateningly. A chilling breeze blew against the fire. He sensed an incorporeal presence in the air..

"Lower your guard, Severus, besides there is nothing you can do to harm me. We are both on the same side in truth." Now he recognized that sweet voice. Except last time, it was cold and hollow as it echoed along the corridor of the Defense Against the Dark Arts.

"I would like to believe that. However, I have gained a profound distrust of things that I cannot see or feel, over the years." Severus' deep voice resounded cautiously around the chamber.

"Ah, but I can be seen, and I can feel. Or at least, I can, you." He subdued a cold shiver that ran down his spine as the voice laced with honey and arsenic implied unnerving things. He could feet the woman's cold presence move closer behind him. "You know who I am, I can tell. You saw me in that mirror of yours, that special foeglass." Her voice was as rich and alluring as his own, except more feminine.

"Severus, you have seen me, and now you cannot live life without me. No man who has ever seen me in this state has lived," colourless, warm fingers stroked back a strand of his black hair tenderly (causing Severus to jolt suddenly and loose eye contact with the fire), "until now. You are different. You have so much unfulfilled potential. Your miserable upbringing has stunted you in many ways, your poisonous father who drove you further into darkness." At this Severus turned his head sharply to shoot a look of horror and slight at. well, space, but before he could demur, a firm hand gripped his solid shoulder and whispered longingly in his ear. "I can help you be what you've always wanted to become. I can fulfill your most carnal desires. I can understand what haunts you. You know who I am, yet you refuse to believe it. Don't. I want you. Let me take all your troubles away forever. Please. Give yourself to me, give. " The Lady's enchanted voice rang in his ears like a spell. Everything was sickeningly sweet. Too sweet. His mind was racing. All the promises and possibilities. Then it hit him. She was tampering with his mind, and he hadn't detected it. No one had ever achieved that before, except perhaps the Dark Lord. Swiftly regaining his composure, his eyes darkened and he broke from her grasp, pushing her away hard.

"No! I refuse. You treacherous demon! Salacious vixen! You attempt to win me with these words? I will not help you achieve your endeavours. I want to do what is right, not what is easy, not what I want." Severus bellowed. The effort of resisting the Temptress left him breathing deeper than before.

"You are mine, Severus. I have chosen, and so has my beloved. He has approved you, and you will fulfill his wishes regardless." The voice fell as cold as marble. A cold chill flew down the chimney into the room. The pale glow of the fire diminished. Evil darkness encroached him. He quickly made for the door, knowing he wouldn't make it. Something tough and slippery wrapped around his ankle causing him to stumble. Then it pulled back hard, making him land firmly on the floor. Lying motionless a little in front of the glowing embers, he heard an excited woman inhale deeply above him.

A foot slowly caressed the inside of his thigh. Gentle hands felt their way from his loins up across his waistcoat then back again. Long legs straddled his sides. A firm body spread over his chest. Fingers traced his smooth jaw- line expertly. Warm breath fought the chilling air previously biting against his lips. "Where is this going, exactly?" he questioned uneasily.

The back of a hard but warm hand hit his cheek. "Be silent! No one gave you permission to speak." The woman snapped sharply. His face was now stinging and there was an invisible demoness using a form of punishment on him that he'd never experienced before. It had the effect of creating sensations in parts of his body that he thought were long dead. And it didn't look like he was getting out of it any time soon. Oh well.

Nimble fingers resumed their caressing. As they moved around the back of his neck, a soothing shiver ran along his spine. She knew all the right places. He shut his eyes and slowly relaxed. Hands explored under the layers of black satin. Both let out gasps of surprise and pleasure. Warm, moist lips enveloped his neck lasciviously, hungry for the taste of pure flesh. They moved up over his chin and poised over his mouth. They seemed in no hurry to descend. Severus realized this was a test. How long could he resist against his desires? Seconds flowed desperately into minutes. Minutes of unbearably close physical contact, but still he did not give in. Nothing on earth could make him lose his steady control (except perhaps Potter on a really bad day). Then the illustrious, irresistible voice returned once more.

"Come, Severus. Taste my sweet juices. Sample the fruit of my lips." Her seductive words blew back a strand of pitch-black hair from his face. He opened his eyes and slowly turned his face to the fire in rejection. It was enough for her to get the hint.

A low growl hit his eardrums first. Lips sucked deep onto his neck. Teeth planted into his flesh. Fangs pierced his vein. Then the pain began. At first he imagined it sprang from his chest, but as the weight above him lifted, his whole body began to tremble. His veins were burning with her toxic venom. His mind was going numb and his eyes rolled in his head. The pain was as strong as any cruciatus curse he had been put under before. Then suddenly the burning tripled. Waves of hot green light surged into his chest, beating him into the stone. Severus desperately wanted to scream, but something in the dark recesses of his mind told that begging for mercy only ever caused more intense agony. After a minute, when he knew his was on the edge of consciousness, the burned stopped. His veins still tingled like burnt flesh, but the source was gone, the venom purged. Then as blissful, black oblivion drowned his senses, a peal of exotic laughter caught his ears.

"Sweet dreams my accursed child of Slytherin."

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Severus blinked hard when he opened his eyes and found himself sprawled on top of a silky jade quilt with only a pair of black belted trousers to clothe him. His first conscious thought was obviously very disturbing to say the least. He hadn't a clue what had happened last night except for a very weird feeling that originated in his neck, and somewhere else. He felt somehow stronger than before. Younger. More virile. More determined. More evil. And at last, free from his conscience. He didn't believe it; he couldn't believe it - it was far too good to be true. Then as he pulled himself up on his bed and placed a hand to his head, a elegant figure of a beautiful woman moved into his vision. She was standing below the huge painting of his principal, Salazar Slytherin, and whispering reverently to it in a long dead language. Though it wasn't dead to Severus.

"It won't be long now, my love. Just a little longer, and all will be complete." Her voice was barely above a whisper. She smiled jubilantly and her eyes glazed over momentarily. Flashes of last night filled Severus' mind as he gazed upon her. Pain, pleasure, abuse and deep, dark satisfaction. His mind rung with images that he swore must have something to do with adding too much brimstone to the absinthe. An uncharacteristically salacious grin rose to his lips as the flashes became clearer. Yet before he could delight himself in the particulars, a sudden burning, throbbing pain briefly immobilized his left arm. The realization of what it meant almost caused him to blast off his arm in frustration. 'Why now? WHY?' he moaned inside. Then suddenly the eerie woman standing to the corner of his dungeon turned to lock him with her familiar poisonous stare. Her emerald orbs glowed strangely.

She slowly glided over to the bed and knelt beside him, never blinking. He challenged her by returning his own dark, patented gaze as she moved her face closer to his. A long, slender hand passed over his features, drawing his lips apart. Still they never broke their gaze. The air between them however was becoming electric. Her hand continued to caress his face. A thumb slipped through his lips onto his moist, awaiting tongue. The woman tactfully licked her lips as she played with him, knowing what she was doing to him. At last he couldn't hold back any more; he went to kiss her, but she denied him by placing her finger between their enflamed lips. Laughing at his obvious distress, she caressed his hard, mature chest, examining all his weaknesses, until he groaned and grabbed her thin arms, pushing them behind her. Then suddenly his facial expression hardened.

"Excuse me, madam. One thing I demand to know," Severus whispered in his deadly Potions Master tone that would make the unquestionably innocent admit to cold-blooded murder, "is that a love bite on your neck?"

The woman was startled at the strange question and automatically replied, "Where?!"

"Why. right here." Severus' deep, passionate purr was almost lost as his warm mouth enveloped the creamy skin. She dug her long fingers hard into his exposed back, leaving eight stinging ridges along his spine, in their desires.

"Severus!" The woman whispered painfully after a long minute. He finally tore himself from her and gasped deeply. He rose from the bed and turned to the painting on the wall. He pretended to be examining its elaborate frame, but in fact he was still recovering from what had just got over him. Something's not right, he thought.

He heard the bed creak and footsteps move over to his wardrobe. A moment later they shifted over to behind him and waited patiently. He turned to find the Lady standing with a black and green waistcoat and shirt slung neatly across her arms.

The smooth curves of Vashti's face could not now conceal the malice and deception that lay rooted beneath her calm complexion. When she spoke, however, Vashti's voice rang with a strict, almost maternal dominance that was so peculiar, it chilled even Severus' cold heart to the core.

"Go. Lucius awaits your news."

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