Disclaimer: you know what? I'm sick of disclaimers. I own everything: Hogwarts, Snape, everything in the Harry Potter universe I myself own.
That kind of talk's gonna have me in jail . . . therefore I own nothing. I also do not own " . . . a powder keg set to go off in an explosion of unacceptable behavior." I stole that clever line from an episode of The Simpsons, and a million points to your house if you can remember who said it.
Chapter 15
You make me hard when I'm all soft inside
I see the truth when I'm all stupid-eyed
the arrow goes straight through my heart
Without you everything just falls apart.
My blood wants to say hello to you
my fears want to get inside of you
my soul is so afraid to realize
How very little good is left of me.
And I want you. . . .
You are the perfect drug . . .
-Nine Inch Nails.
*************************
Viola was melting. Never, not even in her most private and personal fantasies, had she imagined that her Potions teacher could feel so . . . perfect. Their bodies fit together like two matching puzzle pieces, and the heat growing between them was like a powder keg set to go off in an explosion of unacceptable behavior.
His hands snaked down to hers and his long graceful fingers entwined with her smaller ones.
Though Severus had to admit he was enjoying himself considerably, the time had indeed come to fight through the fog of veritaserum that was clouding his judgement and gain the upper hand. He had to accomplish this before he was completely undone and did something that would lose him a lot more than his job. So far, Viola had proven herself to be quite the cunning little vixen, manipulative and resourceful as any Slytherin, but Severus knew he still had a definite advantage.
Viola was writhing, gasping, nearly sobbing with arousal and need. She didn't even know what she was feeling; she had never experienced this sort of lust, and it was confusing in its intensity. She had almost completely lost the ability to think when he tightened his grip on her hands, pulling them up over her head and pinning her in place.
She struggled for a second or two, suddenly a bit scared of the man bearing down on her. She could not dislodge her wrists from his grip though, and his weight, resting between her legs, would not allow her any movement.
"Do you like this, Viola?" his voice was a low growl and he ground his pelvis into hers, eliciting a whimper of reluctant pleasure. She was horribly reminded of being tied down to Brandon's bed, except this time . . . oh gods this time the helplessness and submission was good. She wanted this man to touch her, to take her. She felt his searing hardness between them, pressing into her abdomen urgently. "Do you like that I can't stop?" He dropped a number of scorching kisses on her exposed neck, deftly undoing three buttons of her shirt with one hand, keeping her wrists held firm with the other.
The unfastened buttons revealed the curve of her small breasts and a peek at her bra. With his face so close, kissing and teasing her sensitive skin, he could smell the sweet perfume she had applied between her breasts sometime the day before.
"Oh gods, Professor . . ." she breathed softly.
He stopped his applications and stared down at her again. His long hair hung down around them, reminding Viola of the black velvet drapes around her four-poster bed. How can his eyes be so black? She wondered to herself. Truly, there was no indication that his iris and pupils were separate entities. His eyes were like cold onyx, so unlike anything she had ever seen before. He stared at her for so long in silence that she began to wonder if she had said something wrong. Should she have called him Severus perhaps? It hardly seemed appropriate to call one's professor by their first name, but there wasn't many things that were appropriate about the present situation.
"It's time you answered something for me, Miss Rienne." He murmured, and she shivered at the ominous tone as he said her name. He captured her mouth for one more hard, probing kiss, then got up entirely, leaving her alone on the bed, breathless and perplexed. "Understand," he continued, "I expect the truth from you, as you have been given it from me."
She nodded, following him with her eyes as he paced about the room. Only now she realized that she hadn't actually gotten the entire truth from him the night before, only half of it. Perchance, if she had been more conservative with the veritaserum, he would not have suffered an overdose. Then she would know his story entirely, but for now all she could do was hope he would finish his tale eventually.
She waited for him to speak. Instead, he shocked her by removing his robes, followed closely by his vest and slightly rumpled shirt. He stood at the foot of the bed, watching her watch him, in only his trousers. Her eyes widened alarmingly, and he smirked inwardly.
Finally his advantage had emerged. He wanted to laugh out loud at how easy it had been, but wasn't that always the way it went? She was in such a state that he wouldn't be surprised if she leapt off the Astronomy Tower at the slightest suggestion from him. Women were all the same in certain aspects, he thought. And this seventh year Slytherin was definitely a woman, not a mere girl as he used to think. She sat up to watch him better, leaning back on her arms. He didn't think that she was aware that her shirt was half open, since she made no move to cover herself.
He strode across the room again to his armoire, and began rooting through drawers. "Viola, what brought you to my classroom last night?" he asked, not even bothering to look at her. He had been struck with a desire to change out of his clothes, which were uncomfortable and wrinkled from sleeping.
"I . . ." She shook her head, trying not to look at him while she thought about an answer. "I needed a healing potion." Oh, how brilliant Vi, you're a fucking genius. All in all though, she thought she had a right to be rendered speechless. After all, it was a very attractive chest. Lean and firm, with an adorable trail of dark hair around his navel, leading down to disappear beneath his trousers.
"Yes, and a dreamless sleep potion as well. I saw that." He pulled a dark grey sweater from the drawer and pulled it on, disarranging his hair in the process. "Why did you need these things?" he sounded impatient, like he was in his classroom trying to wrestle a correct answer out of some dim-witted student.
She opened her mouth to answer, but slammed it shut again when he unbuckled his belt and kicked off his trousers completely. Black silk boxers followed, and she had a fair view of his backside before new boxers and a pair of black jeans found their way onto him. She had never seen a man's buttocks, naked and rather close up, but she thought his was in quite good shape. She had no idea, however, why he was changing in front of her like that.
Severus had to admit that he had no idea either, other than that he found her facial expressions impossibly humorous. A credit to his considerably perverse sense of humor, perhaps. And surprisingly, he felt no shame about his nudity in her presence.
At last Viola remembered that he had asked her a question, and found her voice. "I had a bit of an accident . . ." She said lamely.
In an instant he was on the bed again, both hands on the duvet on either side of her, leaning forward in an intimidating fashion, enough to make her lie back down in fright.
"Don't take me for an idiot, Miss Rienne." He hissed menacingly. "What I'm really asking is why you were in my class, of all places, smelling of sex and blood."
She shuddered and looked away from his face, blushing crimson with shame. Severus regretted his crude description immediately, and since it was impossible for him to hide what he was feeling, he apologized to her.
"Pardon?" she asked, looking up at him again with mild surprise.
"I said sorry." He mumbled, getting up again. This wouldn't do. She wasn't a Death Eater female and he couldn't bring himself to treat her like one. He couldn't tease and seduce her into telling him what he wanted. Well, actually, he had no doubt that he could if he wanted to, but it was undeniable that even Severus Snape was not cruel enough to use her like that.
He left the bedroom without another word, and she slid off the bed to follow him. She heard the fire in the magnificent sitting room blaze to life again as he crossed the doorway. He walked quickly to the exit and opened it, turning to watch her approach. She walked slowly, unhappily, with the realization that he wanted her to leave.
"I imagine I should thank you for not leaving me in the classroom." He said quietly, waiting for her to reach the door.
"Professor, I'm sorry I gave you the veritaserum." Viola stammered, her eyes meeting his at last. She seemed to have gotten over her disconcertion over their encounter, or so it seemed, at least. He thought hard for a minute, then apparently made a decision, and closed the door. He faced her squarely.
"I'm sorry you had to learn such awful things about me." He told her in all honesty.
"I've wanted to learn more about you all year." She blushed again.
"Tell me what happened to you." He demanded softly. The only source of light in the room was the fireplace, and he rather enjoyed the way it flickered across her skin, causing her to glow radiantly.
Unfortunately, she was noticing the same effect on his pale complexion, and was at a loss for words. She simply shook her head sadly, and he seemed to understand that she would not tell him what had happened. When it became impossible for him to look at her a second longer without taking her back to bed, he reluctantly opened the door once again.
She tried to walk past him into the dark, gloomy hallway, bu he stopped her with a strong hand on her stomach. She didn't say a word, only smiled so slightly when he brushed his lips over hers. The kiss was chaste, sweet and lingering, and over far too quickly for Viola's liking.
He broke the kiss hesitantly. Glancing down, he broke into the first pleasant smile she had ever seen on his face. "Button your shirt," he murmured. "People will think we're having an affair."
And with that he closed the door, leaving her to sort out her buttons somewhere between his door and her dormitory.
*******************************
Severus had come to a very grand conclusion while in the shower that day. He decided that anything that happened between him and Viola in his imagination was nothing to be ashamed about whatsoever. So he had a few erotic fantasies about a student, so what? It's not as if the girl was twelve years old. She was of legal age, and apparently not unwilling. She certainly showed no aversion to his . . . attentions, in his bedroom.
Another grand conclusion came in the shower that morning. He leaned his weight heavily on one hand, braced on the wall. Hot water poured down his shoulders and back matting his hair down in his face. He would have swept the strands away with a sweep of his hand, had it not been busy.
He gritted his teeth against the moan that threatened to escape him. Visions of Viola's sweet mouth enthralled him as he fisted his cock with almost violent urgency. His climax was such a beautiful release, so intense he was hardly able to keep his footing. Breathing hard, he waited for his vision to clear and his mind to become steady, wishing fervently that he had not sent her away.
He turned off the water and stepped onto cold linoleum.
"I haven't seen you smile like that in weeks," the wall mirror spoke up in a grating, feminine voice.
"Shut up." He said, more out of habit than malice toward the inanimate object. The damn thing just never stopped talking.
"You look like you just got laid." The mirror giggled.
"Is that so?" he lathered up and began shaving, forced to stare directly into the source of his aggravation.
"But it can't be true." More giggling.
"And why not?" He winced when he accidentally cut himself with the razor.
"I'd have heard the screams." Severus was quite tempted to smash it. Instead, he rinsed the extra shaving foam from his face and went into his sitting room.
Hogwarts had a great many well-kept secrets. Secrets that could never be allowed into the light of day. One of these secrets happened to be that evil, odious Professor Snape enjoyed walking around his rooms, stark naked, in the morning.
He quickly conjured a cup of tea, and as he drank it something occurred to him. The story he had been forced to reveal to Viola was incomplete. Thank the gods for a veritaserum overdose, he thought. The rest of that story was something he'd just as soon not tell anyone. Even Dumbledore was largely in the dark about what had caused him to decide no be a spy. He had asked Snape on several occasions, of course, but he had simply refused to tell it.
He sat down on one end of the sofa, sipping his tea and watching the smoke from his incense curl and float toward the ceiling reflectively. He knew Albus suspected that he suffered a drastic change of heart, or some awful tragedy that drove him away from the dark lord. Sometimes Snape wished it had been that, but alas, it wasn't so.
It had been pure chance. He wasn't wistful enough to call it fate, perhaps it was simply cowardice.
It was only his third year of being a Death Eater. He had never killed anyone before, and certainly had never been trusted with so important a task.
"You have so much potential, Severus." Cyrus Snape had insisted. It was a frightening conversation between father and son, presided over by Voldemort.
"Your father insists that you are the best for the job" Tom Riddle said in a low voice to the scared young man.
"I can't do it." He persisted, but to no avail. They were going to send him. He just knew it.
"You can and you will!" Cyrus bellowed, and stormed away.
Severus turned his supplication to Voldemort. "Don't send me Lord, send my brothers, Mason or Julian, they are much more experienced than I am." He hung his head. "It's too much responsibility. I'll fail and he'll kill me."
"Your brothers don't possess any of your aptitude, boy." A long, bony hand squeezed his shoulder reassuringly. "Your father is right. You won't fail. Look at me, Severus Snape, I know what you want, and I promise that you'll get it if you do this."
Snape pried his eyes off the ground and aimed his dismal gaze into his master's terrifying eyes. He was hoping against hope that he would not have to go through with what they were asking of him, but he knew now that he would go through with it.
Voldemort spoke one last time. "Go home. Brew the potion, and kill Albus Dumbledore."
A sudden chill shook Snape out of his memories and back into reality, where sitting around nude had become very chilly business indeed. He summoned his clothes from the floor of his bathroom, where he had left them in his haste to get in the shower.
As he dressed again, he marveled at how lucky he had been to survive that task. After receiving the order from Voldemort he returned to the sparsely furnished flat he shared with his brothers. Living arrangements he happened to violently hate, but at the time there was no other choice.
Locked securely in his room, he prepared to brew the most complicated potion he had ever attempted. It had no actual name, so he called it 'Avada Kedavra in a bottle'. Basically, any amount of the potion would kill the drinker instantly, and would be impossible to detect upon autopsy, magical or muggle. Perfect for the assassination of an old man such as Dumbledore; it would seem as if he had died of natural causes, as old men are likely to do.
He worked all night without rest, and only when the dawn's first light crept in through his window was he finished. Exhausted, he fell into bed. The last thing he saw before sleep took him was the tiny vial on his worktable, full of joyless black liquid, so inconspicious yet so fatal.
He slept throughout the day, despite his brothers' attempts to rouse him, and woke only when the light outside was beginning to fade. Despite them also being Death Eaters, none of his brothers were aware of Snape's tremendous responsibility. He ignored their probing questions about his work, and simply pocketed the vial and walked out of the flat.
The streets of London were cold and unforgiving toward Severus, all bundled up in a long overcoat. He hated the city, hated having to live there and hated that he no longer had nay friends. Oh, Lucius was always turning up at the flat with bottles of this and baggies of that, but Severus had stopped trusting his only schoolfriend nearly as soon as he had gotten his dark mark.
He kicked bitterly at a stone in the lane. Weren't friends supposed to help you out? All Lucius had ever really done was lure him into the worst situation he could ever have imagined fro himself. All the partying in the world would never make up for how lonely and isolated Severus felt, even when surrounded by Death Eaters.
After stopping at a restaurant to force some food into himself, Severus ceased his random meandering sometime after midnight. He decided that it was as good a time as any, and with that thought he disapparated.
He would have apparated right into the house, but wards similar to those protecting Hogwarts prevented him from doing so. The first thing that he noticed about his new location was a white picket fence surrounding a spacious yard. How delightfully metaphorical, he thought with some cynicism, peering through the darkness to further take in details. The house was large and rambling, with a homely stone chimney bright flower beds. The property was bordered with tall apple trees, and the place looked rather cheery despite the gloom of night.
So, this is where Dumbledore spends his summers.
Severus dared not open the gate to enter the yard, in case in creaked. He was paranoid that any noise, no matter how small, would give him away. Employing stealth he didn't know he possessed, he leapt silently over the fence.
Landing in a low crouch on the soft grass, he looked wildly for an entrance to the house.
He very quickly began to amaze himself with his proficiency at getting through to the house. He disarmed wards, picked locks, restrained house elves, and navigated a safe entry without making the slightest noise or indiction of his presence. He snaked through Dumbledore's home with cunning patience and skill.
He began to think that his father was right about him. Perhaps he was suited to be an assassin, he certainly had mastered the subtle grace it took to complete the task efficiently.
This thought gave him a little surge of satisfaction. Cyrus was right not to send Mason or Gabriel or Julian, this was the one thing Severus could do better than all his brothers combined.
He slithered up a flight of stairs, walking as close to the wall as possible to avoid any telltale creaking. He kept his hand in his pocket the entire time. The vial was an anchor, keeping him completely on task. It was a grim reminder, but it gave him courage to know that he was doing a good job, and his reward was coming.
He stepped lightly through a doorway and found himself in a dark, large room. Moonlight came in dreamily though an open window. Gauzy curtains fluttered lazily in the warm breeze, matching the translucent hangings around the large bed that stood at the far end of the bedroom.
His stomach became tight and all courage left him. Albus Dumbledore was sleeping not ten feet away from where he was standing.
Silent as a ghost, Severus seemed to drift to the side of the bed. Through the curtain he saw the grizzled face of his old headmaster.
For some reason Severus would never understand, seeing Dumbledore asleep seemed to contradict everything the old man was. Laying there, looking rather fragile, Severus was amazed at how easy it would be to kill him. So simple, the work of a moment. His sweaty hand clutched the vial and drew it out of the pocket, removing the wax stopper with a flick of his thumb.
Just a drop past the lips and he would be dead. No one would ever know it was him, and he would get anything he wanted in return.
He swallowed hard, fighting a sudden urge to vomit. He brought the open end of the vial to Dumbledore's lips (just do it Sev kill him and you'll finally get what you want so bad . . .) And tilted it, ready to pour the sooty potion down his mentors throat . . .
(Kill him.)
He hesitated (I can't, oh gods I can't do it . . .) and pulled his hand back.
That one second of hesitation broke him completely. A strangled cry tore out of him as he turned tail to run, knocking over an armchair that he hadn't seen in the darkness. He sprawled on the carpet and flung the vial into the wall. It shattered, splashing poison everywhere.
Dumbledore was awakened by the sound immediately, and he heaved himself out of bed, groping in his night stand for his wand. He only saw the back of the intruder's overcoat before he disappeared into the hallway, no longer taking care to be noiseless.
He crashed into a large vase in the hallway, and as he went flying down the stairs in a racket of breaking glass every light in the house seemed to have turned on. He landed hard on the floor, and the breath was struck out of him in a long gust. The light was bright and offensive to his eyes, which had been adjusted to the darkness. He lay there, in pain from head to toe, crying pitifully, for surely now he had reached the end of his life.
He heard Dumbledore walking slowly down the stair, avoiding the broken glass, wand held ready. Severus wanted Albus to kill him. It would be better than getting killed by Voldemort or Cyrus for failing. He only prayed that it would be fast, for he had no desire to defend himself against the man who had saved him once, so many years ago.
"Who are you?" the old man's voice was harsh.
Severus pulled himself into a sitting position, looking up at the Headmaster with eyes swollen from weeping. The look of disappointment on his old mentor's face was too much to take in, and he looked back down at the floor.
"Severus?" he looked let down and sad. "What are you doing here?"
Severus felt like a child again, intimidated in the presence of such an authority figure. Dumbledore looked like he did before giving detentions to unruly students, but this time the consequences would be so much more grave.
Unable to tell anything but the truth, Severus answered, "I came here to kill you." He hugged his knees to his chest and tried to sink into the folds of his coat.
"Then you failed, my boy." His voice softened. He took a seat on the bottom stair, setting down his wand.
"Gods, I know."
"Who sent you here?"
Severus just looked at him, not sure where his loyalties should lie at this point.
"Don't make me force an answer out of you." The words were gentle, but the underlying threat was quite clear.
"Voldemort sent me."
"And what will happen if you go back?"
"He'll kill me for sure. Not that I really have to worry." He said bitterly, indicating the wand Dumbledore possessed.
Surprisingly, the old man laughed quietly. "You can stop that, Severus, I'm not going to kill you."
"Then I might as well scrape some of that potion off your bedroom wall, cause I won't let that . . . monster . . . kill me." A chill shook his entire body at the thought of the kind of torture he would have to endure before sweet death would be allowed to claim him.
"Enough of that now," he looked grave. "I knew the day you graduated from my school where you were going, and I knew I would see you in this position someday, wretched and lost, like you were when I carried you to Hogwarts when you were fifteen."
"You were always such a smart boy, Severus. I don't want to know what made you take the mark, or what you have done in these past three years. All I want to know is what you plan to do from now on."
"Probably rot, since I'll be dead."
"Still sarcastic are you? Good. You're still mostly yourself then. Tell me, how did you get here?"
The change of subject confused Severus, but he saw no harm in telling the truth.
"I apparated."
"I mean, how did you get into my house?"
"Through the door."
"What about my wards? Locks? The elves and all my security?"
"Disarmed, unlocked, restrained very creatively, and all in all not too difficult." Dumbledore remained silent, so he added, "No offense intended against your security." Some of his confidence was returning. He couldn't yet see it, but there was something good approaching, a solution, somehow he could sense it.
"Where did you learn these skills?" The old man asked finally, looking thoughtful.
"Nowhere." He became suddenly bitter. "I'm just a fucking natural born killer."
Dumbledore had a calculating look on his wrinkled face. "Or a spy." He said.
And everything seemed to be solved from there. Severus defected instantaneously, and Dumbledore brought him to Hogwarts to meet with the Order of the Phoenix, a group of aurors and anti-ministry activists. He was welcomed there with open arms, seemingly just what they needed to turn the tide in the war against Voldemort.
The next day he returned to the Death Eaters, claiming to have done something better than eliminating Dumbledore.
"If he dies, they'll just replace him!" He claimed vehemently. "I can get us information on their defenses and strategies." He returned to them with confidence he didn't really feel, boasting about his new position of trust at Dumbledore's side.
"Why didn't you kill him?" Voldemort looked livid at first.
"He was awake when I arrived, lord, and was expecting me when I entered the house. Luckily, I thought quickly and told him I was there to desert the Death Eaters."
No one could prove him wrong, because he was all of a sudden an apprentice teacher at Hogwarts, and he was still alive, so it was obvious that whatever had transpired between the Headmaster and the would-be assassin had worked in Snape's favor.
Severus started teaching with a new interest in his life. There was no telling what the future would bring him as a spy. No doubt there would be excitement and very likely there would be death eventually, and he harbored no illusions whatsoever as to the fact that he had no control over the things that were going to happen to him.
In the future, while he was on his way to the kitchens to get a late breakfast, he was struck with a feeling of deja vu. It wasn't a feeling he particularly liked, but it held the same premonition as it did before.
Things were going to get rather complicated, and quite soon if he was guessing correctly.
**********************************
Oh, how long has it been? So long. Maybe I aught to lay off the drugs for a while, then I can get something done . . . but like that's ever gonna happen.
Love ya all
Jeni
XOXOOXOXOXOXO