Part 10 – ONE OF YOUR FORMER PLEASURES

and the crude club their love on a drum.

« Leuconoe, » spat Snape, arriving in front of his chambers.

The black door seemed to look at him reproachfully – why should such a nice password sound like a curse? – but opened for him all the same.

« Again, I didn't choose it, » said Snape angrily, stepping inside.

When he closed the door behind him he realised that he was talking with a door – worse, he realised that he didn't care.

« I know you don't like it, » he continued, his back to the door, « and guess what? I don't fucking care! »

« I must say, you're in a lovely mood tonight, » said a voice from his right.

Snape whipped around, his wand ready.

Lupin was seating in the armchair farthest from the fire, his face hidden in the shadow.

« What-are-you-doing-here? » asked Snape, advancing on him.

He felt so angry, angry at himself for having been aroused by a student, angry at Hermione for having noticed it, angry at Lucius for having fought so lamely, depriving him the satsifaction of a real duel, angry at the Headmaster for his fucking sense of honour, angry at Hermione for having refused him (not that she had, screamed a voice somewhere in his groin), angry at his father for the stupid charm, angry at Hermione again for having activated it…angry at Lupin for being where he shouldn't be.

« You have three seconds before I start on you, » he said through gritted teeth.

« I'll be here till Christmas, » said Lupin calmly, rising from the chair. He was keeping his hands in slightly in front of him, palms up, to show that he had not intention to draw his wand. It could have seemed like a stupid precaution to someone else, but Lupin had known Snape for many years.

« Dumbledore let me in – he said you would have some Wolfsbane potion left, » he continued.

Snape forced himself to breathe, and unwillingly he relaxed his grip on his wand. Some seconds stretched in complete silence, Lupin standing in front of him, palms open, as though he was praying, and Snape with his dark wand still pointed right at him.

Then Snape shrugged, like a dog coming out of the water, and put his wand in his sleeve.

« Of course, » he said curtly.

Lupin watched him, still nervous, half-fascinated, as the dark man opened a large cabinet withusing at least five different spells – some of the potions and ingredients inside it were too dangerous to risk a casualty.

« Here, » Snape said, putting an iron flask on the table with a sharp noise.

As Lupin's hand closed around it, he frowned, then said, disapprovingly,

« It's charmed to be constantly boiling – mind you leave it in a goblet at least fifteen minuted before you drink it, or your toungue will melt. »

Lupin looked at him curiously, and Snape added,

« Of course, that would not be such a loss. »

But the damage was done, and Lupin wondered what had happened that afternoon to lower Snape's wards in that way.

« Do you want to talk about it? » he asked mildly, and Snape stared at him, an unreadable expression in his black eyes.

The moment he opened his mouth to answer, he felt his mark burn. Ignoring Lupin's worried glance, he walked to the door and stormed out of the room.

Lupin sighed and looked around. Dumbledore had told hims something about Rasputin's diary, and he didn't know how to react at the news. If only Severus were a little more…a little less unpleasant and bitter…if only Hermione were a little older…

And what was Snape using as a password? Lupin had a vague memory of it…

He walked to Snape's private library at let his fingers follow the books' spines, looking for a familiar name…and there he was.

Horace. And the poem he'd had to study when he was a boy suddenly jumped out of the black pit of forgotten memories, and he stroked the book fondly.

« Tu ne quaesieris, scire nefas, quem mihi quem tibi finem di dederint, Leuconoe…Indeed, » he sighed, putting the book back on the shelf.

He took the iron flask from the table and turned to go.

« Good luck, Severus, » he whispered, as he closed the door on the empty room.

The Riddle's house was a corpse. There was no other word for it. Some old and rusty frames were still hanging on the mouldy walls, but the canvas had been stripped down. The old furniture was scattered around the room, looking defeatingly broken like some wounded men left on the battlefield.

Snape walked towards the three men standing in front of the fire.

« You're late, » hissed Voldemort, giving him a strange look that put him on his guard.

That look told him that the Dark Lord knew – that Malfoy had been blabbering about how he had saved Hermione Granger.

And that he was going to be punished for that.

Bowing his head, Snbape took a wary look around, and his heart gave a jolt. The nature of his punishment was waiting for him in the darkest corner of Riddle House's drawing room.

Malfoy smirked at him, and Pettigrew just stood there, closest to the fire, trying to do something with his hands.

« I am sorry, my Lord. It won't happen again, » said Snape, kneeling in front of Voldemort and kissing the hem of his black robes.

« No. It won't happen again, » repeated the Drak Lord, and something in his voice made Snape freeze.

« Now get up and take the ingredients you need, » he added, dismissevely. « They are there in the corner. »

Snape flashed his eyes towards the dark spot. He could hardly see the girl crouching against the wall. So Lucius had found someone to take Hermione's place.

« My Lord, » he said, in what he hoped to be a reasonable tone, « shouldn't Lucius- »

« Lucius has done enough for me already, » replied the Dark Lord, and Snape felt his heart miss a beat: so he'd been right, Malfoy had told…

« And besides, I think you have neglected yourself, lately. You deserve to indulge in one of your former pleasures. »

Snape didn't say anything more. He couldn't escape from that. Getting to his feet, he walked swiftly to the girl in the corner and offered her his hand. When she didn't take it, he pulled her up by her hair, and she muffled a scream.

Before Cynthia, he thought he enjoyed to do that. But since her death, all he saw during a rape was her white-blond hair turning slowly to chestnut as her body grew colder.

In a sharp, practised movement he pulled both of the girl's arms over her head and pinned them to the wall with one hand. Then he ripped her skirt and knickers and opened his own trousers, shutting his ears to her terrified cries.

His body still responded very well to this, he thought idly, as the feeling of the young body trapped against his provoked the familiar reaction in his groin.

Looking into the girl's eyes to avoid looking into Cynthia's last, shocked expression, he opened her legs and forced his way into her.

He knew she was a virgin – she had to be, for the blood to be effective, and he knew he was hurting her a lot. But he had decided not to care about it since a long time, first because he actually enjoyed it, and after because he couldn't afford himself to be kind in front of the Dark Lord. Trying to ignore the looks of the three men on his back, he started to move quickly inside her.

Some minutes later he stopped, panting slightly, to take a bronze knife out of his belt, and he cut some geometric runic symbols into the girl's arms, ignoring her sobs.

It had just occurred to him that Hermione could have been there againt that wall right now, and the thought was half-arousing, but also filled with a deep, bitter sadness. Closing his eyes, he saw what was coming next and he shuddered. No, not arousing at all, after all.

Pettigrew came behind him carrying a vial and started collecting the dark red blood while Snape resumed his movements. The moment he climaxed he slid her throat, and the short balding man put a clean vial to the wound and filled it.

When he finally came out of her, her body slid to the floor and crumbled, her limbs leaning against the wall like a strange puppet suddenly left without its strings. He turned his back to her and buttoned his trousers, trying to catch his breath.

Voldemort snapped his fingers, and the vials Pettigrew was holding sealed themselves closed. Snape reached out and pocketed them.

« And now, » said the Dark Lord, looking utterly unconcerned by the events which had just taken place, « I would like a word with you, Severus. »

Malfoy smirked at him again, and Snape took a deep breath.

« Of course, my Lord, » he said softly.

A/N So, here it is…that was the worse you'll find in this story, but it's not a nice worse all the same. But on the plus side, Lupin has arrived! Nice Lupin. And Horace was there too, so cheer up. The poem is, of course, the most popular one by Horace, the carpe diem one (Ode I.11). With me, you're apparently doomed to classical stuff…Here is the text, enjoy.

Tu ne quaesieris - scire nefas - quem mihi, quem tibi

finem di dederint, Leuconoë, nec Babylonios

temptaris numeros. ut melius, quicquid erit, pati!

seu plures hiemes, seu tribuit Iuppiter ultimam,

quae nunc oppositis debilitat pumicibus mare

Tyrhenum. Sapias, vina liques, et spatio brevi

spem longam reseces. dum loquimur, fugerit invida

aetas: carpe diem, quam minimum credula postero.

(Ask not - we cannot know - what end the gods have set for you, for me; nor attempt the Babylonian reckonings, Leuconoë. How much better to endure whatever comes, whether Jupiter grants us additional winters or whether this is our last, which now wears out the Tuscan Sea upon the barrier of the cliffs! Be wise, strain the wine; and since life is brief, prune back far-reaching hopes! Even while we speak, envious time has passed: pluck the day, putting as little trust as possible in tomorrow!)

Thank you to Natsuorypricey-blondeAries1MyxChemicalxRomance and Portia (wooow, thank you…not sure I deserve all that…).

Drusilla3I was hoping no one would notice…yesterday evening I was travelling again, and Switzerland has not yet installed Internet in the trains, stupid swiss…

Satia Entreri, thanks! I' trying to keep him as in character as I can…but is he?

rainbow-fuzzlez, oh but you are, LOL

duj – well, my guess is, a lot of people are looking for lemons in HP fics because we're never going to have any in the actual books…and I include myself in that number. But I can't stand perfect lemons, or scary lemons, so don't worry.

Next update: February 27th