HP/SS pairing, don't like, don't read. Disclaimer: Own not,
profit not, sue not.
A/N. Just a warning, story includes some/past/reference to SS/LM, DM/BZ, HP/DM, HG/RW and maybe more, the more I think about this and write about this the more screwed up it gets. I work with these characters on the assumption that most of them are bi-sexual. Ok, statistically it's only one in four or something, it is however fun and more likely than the fanfictions in which everybody seems to be exclusively gay.
The witch trial I describe is hopefully reasonably accurate according to the practices in Scotland during the 17th Century. I got most of my information from the book The Trials Of The Lancashire Witches by E.Peel and P.Southern. Quotes from the study of witchcraft by James 1st of England are probably from his major work on the subject, Demonology.
As it seems customary to tell people what you were listening to when you write a chapter the pieces of the day were: Death Scene from the Romeo and Juliet Soundtrack, Fear (rabbit in the moon dance remix) by Sarah Mac Lachlan and finally Enae Volare Mezzo by Era.
Flames will not be ignored, in fact they will read with much excitement, copied and pasted onto a document and then e-mailed to my friends. I don't have many hobbies, but laughing at other people's expense is one of my favourites.
With the rating, at the moment it's R just for the themes, torture maybe rape later, ect. This will turn out to be HP/SS slash, though how far that will go remains to be seen, please bare in mind that this is my first fanfiction of this or any kind.
If this bares any resemblance to your or someone else's story, it was not intentional and I'm very sorry it's not very original.
Chapter 6 Convicta Et Combusta
'...they should be consumed by fire-yet in every country according to the law and custom thereof, but regardless of sex, age or rank. Bairns, because of their less and ignorant age, might be excused.'- James 1st of England, 6th of Scotland.
And so Severus was spared, watching, too young, lucky.
The Bellman had walked around the town that very morning. "Who ever has complaint against a woman that she may be a witch bring her to town hall that she may be examined." His eyes glinted in an anticipatory way. He surveyed the clusters of people as they bustled around the small homes and stalls for market day. The highlands were less than warm even this time of year, yet this lady and her child dressed as if for the very most southern point of England, the lady's head without a scarf and her dark hair falling down her back. To be fair she conducted herself with perfect modesty, it would not save her this time. "Mrs. Snape," He approached smiling politely bowing as customary. She returned with a short half-curtsy "I wonder may I have the pleasure of your company as I walk to the next village. I understand that is where you and your son," he sparred a quick glance at Severus, who scowled "currently live."
"I thank you but I am staying in town all this day and the next with my younger sister. So I am unable to be company to you. Good day to you." Sonora Snape turned on her heal with a brief nod in his direction, small boy trailing behind her like a duckling. She breathed a sigh of relief, yet another successful escape from the skirt grabbing witchpricker of a man. He ran his bell. A fresh wave of foreboding swept her slight body but she kept walking determinedly towards the house of her good friend, adored son in tow.
"I will bring Mrs. Sonora Snape to the town hall for examination for 'tis my belief that she and her son are both witches, that they both renounce God and yield themselves wholly to the Devil." Whispers raced around the market and Sonora turned and faced her accuser, shoulders squared and it was all Severus could do to follow her without shaking.
"Listen to me," his mother hissed quietly "you must denounce me, become a believer, and a convincing one at that."
"But you are not the Devil's whore mother, why must I lie?"
"They will never believe me but there is a chance you could get out of this unscathed. I set bones straight and true, you've never had a cold and not one mother or child has ever died under my hand when I was working as a midwife. Never be happy, healthy or successful or people will think there's something wrong with you. Now I'll confess but you must plead your innocence. You remember the lords prayer," She waited for a nod to the affirmative, "well make sure to say it. Here," she held out the wooden crucifix she kept in her pocket to him but, as it touched his hand he hissed in pain, "Oh dear, just hope they don't ask you to hold one and if they do, for Merlin's sake act as though it doesn't hurt." He gave her a strange look at the words she used, why didn't she say for God's sake like everyone else?
By now they had caught up to the Bellringer and his face was filled with an expression that could only be described as lust, though for his mother or for blood Severus could not tell. "I love you child," His mother pressed her hand over her heart, then fleetingly to her lips and finally rested her hand in what could only seem a sign of benediction upon his forehead. For a second he stood stock still, eyes shut, barely able to breathe for the feeling of love washing through him. Upon opening his eyes Severus realised that she had begun walking on, toward the Town Hall and as always, he followed.
A quick confession, that was her plan. Get it over with, torture was something she was less than willing to endure in the final moments of her life. That was what these moments were she thought, enjoying the feel of grass and heather under her light sandals, giving a spring to her step even as she walked on to certain death. The Bellringer walked beside her with a firm grip on her upper arm. If only she could apparate. Simple potions, that was all she could manage, no incantations, the simple mixtures and decantations. A squib, not useful, though her cooking was exemplary. But without magic she might still be able to save her son. As they past the priest she spat at his feet, that would be noted. As they walked into the Hall she saw she was not the only woman there. She was ushered into a side-room; she would be first. Initially she was shaven and not carefully, if she still had half her right ear left she would be lucky. She was pushed naked to the centre of the main hall. Her beloved knelt, restrained. Severus would not look at his her but prayed fervently, a convincing display, a child praying for his mother's soul. As she passed she spat at the ground before him yelling "Priest's whore." It was a convincing act if she did say so herself, inwardly she smiled. She allowed herself to be pushed back onto the large table where the Bellringer stood, holding an impressively sharp implement. Witchpricker. She silently prayed to any higher power up there that this would be entirely put on. That the pin headed straight for her inner thigh was retractable. It wasn't. She cried out in pain and doubled her resolve to stay silent the next time. They were looking for the Devil's wound. It had to be completely insensitive, she must not react or they would do this until she passed out. She waited for the next stab, as it came she suppressed the shudder, the gasp the scream.
"Feel you nothing, whore." Exclaimed the Bellringer.
"No, nothing at all." She replied.
A/N. Just a warning, story includes some/past/reference to SS/LM, DM/BZ, HP/DM, HG/RW and maybe more, the more I think about this and write about this the more screwed up it gets. I work with these characters on the assumption that most of them are bi-sexual. Ok, statistically it's only one in four or something, it is however fun and more likely than the fanfictions in which everybody seems to be exclusively gay.
The witch trial I describe is hopefully reasonably accurate according to the practices in Scotland during the 17th Century. I got most of my information from the book The Trials Of The Lancashire Witches by E.Peel and P.Southern. Quotes from the study of witchcraft by James 1st of England are probably from his major work on the subject, Demonology.
As it seems customary to tell people what you were listening to when you write a chapter the pieces of the day were: Death Scene from the Romeo and Juliet Soundtrack, Fear (rabbit in the moon dance remix) by Sarah Mac Lachlan and finally Enae Volare Mezzo by Era.
Flames will not be ignored, in fact they will read with much excitement, copied and pasted onto a document and then e-mailed to my friends. I don't have many hobbies, but laughing at other people's expense is one of my favourites.
With the rating, at the moment it's R just for the themes, torture maybe rape later, ect. This will turn out to be HP/SS slash, though how far that will go remains to be seen, please bare in mind that this is my first fanfiction of this or any kind.
If this bares any resemblance to your or someone else's story, it was not intentional and I'm very sorry it's not very original.
Chapter 6 Convicta Et Combusta
'...they should be consumed by fire-yet in every country according to the law and custom thereof, but regardless of sex, age or rank. Bairns, because of their less and ignorant age, might be excused.'- James 1st of England, 6th of Scotland.
And so Severus was spared, watching, too young, lucky.
The Bellman had walked around the town that very morning. "Who ever has complaint against a woman that she may be a witch bring her to town hall that she may be examined." His eyes glinted in an anticipatory way. He surveyed the clusters of people as they bustled around the small homes and stalls for market day. The highlands were less than warm even this time of year, yet this lady and her child dressed as if for the very most southern point of England, the lady's head without a scarf and her dark hair falling down her back. To be fair she conducted herself with perfect modesty, it would not save her this time. "Mrs. Snape," He approached smiling politely bowing as customary. She returned with a short half-curtsy "I wonder may I have the pleasure of your company as I walk to the next village. I understand that is where you and your son," he sparred a quick glance at Severus, who scowled "currently live."
"I thank you but I am staying in town all this day and the next with my younger sister. So I am unable to be company to you. Good day to you." Sonora Snape turned on her heal with a brief nod in his direction, small boy trailing behind her like a duckling. She breathed a sigh of relief, yet another successful escape from the skirt grabbing witchpricker of a man. He ran his bell. A fresh wave of foreboding swept her slight body but she kept walking determinedly towards the house of her good friend, adored son in tow.
"I will bring Mrs. Sonora Snape to the town hall for examination for 'tis my belief that she and her son are both witches, that they both renounce God and yield themselves wholly to the Devil." Whispers raced around the market and Sonora turned and faced her accuser, shoulders squared and it was all Severus could do to follow her without shaking.
"Listen to me," his mother hissed quietly "you must denounce me, become a believer, and a convincing one at that."
"But you are not the Devil's whore mother, why must I lie?"
"They will never believe me but there is a chance you could get out of this unscathed. I set bones straight and true, you've never had a cold and not one mother or child has ever died under my hand when I was working as a midwife. Never be happy, healthy or successful or people will think there's something wrong with you. Now I'll confess but you must plead your innocence. You remember the lords prayer," She waited for a nod to the affirmative, "well make sure to say it. Here," she held out the wooden crucifix she kept in her pocket to him but, as it touched his hand he hissed in pain, "Oh dear, just hope they don't ask you to hold one and if they do, for Merlin's sake act as though it doesn't hurt." He gave her a strange look at the words she used, why didn't she say for God's sake like everyone else?
By now they had caught up to the Bellringer and his face was filled with an expression that could only be described as lust, though for his mother or for blood Severus could not tell. "I love you child," His mother pressed her hand over her heart, then fleetingly to her lips and finally rested her hand in what could only seem a sign of benediction upon his forehead. For a second he stood stock still, eyes shut, barely able to breathe for the feeling of love washing through him. Upon opening his eyes Severus realised that she had begun walking on, toward the Town Hall and as always, he followed.
A quick confession, that was her plan. Get it over with, torture was something she was less than willing to endure in the final moments of her life. That was what these moments were she thought, enjoying the feel of grass and heather under her light sandals, giving a spring to her step even as she walked on to certain death. The Bellringer walked beside her with a firm grip on her upper arm. If only she could apparate. Simple potions, that was all she could manage, no incantations, the simple mixtures and decantations. A squib, not useful, though her cooking was exemplary. But without magic she might still be able to save her son. As they past the priest she spat at his feet, that would be noted. As they walked into the Hall she saw she was not the only woman there. She was ushered into a side-room; she would be first. Initially she was shaven and not carefully, if she still had half her right ear left she would be lucky. She was pushed naked to the centre of the main hall. Her beloved knelt, restrained. Severus would not look at his her but prayed fervently, a convincing display, a child praying for his mother's soul. As she passed she spat at the ground before him yelling "Priest's whore." It was a convincing act if she did say so herself, inwardly she smiled. She allowed herself to be pushed back onto the large table where the Bellringer stood, holding an impressively sharp implement. Witchpricker. She silently prayed to any higher power up there that this would be entirely put on. That the pin headed straight for her inner thigh was retractable. It wasn't. She cried out in pain and doubled her resolve to stay silent the next time. They were looking for the Devil's wound. It had to be completely insensitive, she must not react or they would do this until she passed out. She waited for the next stab, as it came she suppressed the shudder, the gasp the scream.
"Feel you nothing, whore." Exclaimed the Bellringer.
"No, nothing at all." She replied.