A/N: This chapter contains scenes of adult not suitable for minors.

Chapter 4: The First He Took A Risk For

The dark moon, virgin blood, seven witnesses to the act. Had the situation not been so serious and had it not concerned one of his students, Snape would have laughed. The only thing missing to turn the whole affair into a ludicrous old wives' tale was the mentioning of the devil. But then again, Bellatrix Lestrange with her madly glittering eyes and her twisted grin could substitute for the Wicked One any day.

After she had made her proposition, an eerie silence had settled over the room and everyone had stared at her, some in disbelief, some in confusion and others in anticipation. To Duncan McKibben's credit, he was one of those who looked shocked. How the girl was taking it, Snape could not tell. She had once more lowered her head and was keeping her eyes firmly on her shoes.

The first one to speak was the Dark Lord. 'Lucius, tell your wife to have the elves prepare a bed chamber. Also tell her to come here once she is done. I have a task for her.'

Lucius bowed and left the room, just to return a few moments later to the same uncomfortable silence, closely followed by Narcissa, who was told give the girl a nightgown and – to use the Dark Lord's words – have a motherly talk with her. And Narcissa never questioned her orders, but simply gestured the girl to follow her.

'Duncan,' the Dark Lord addressed the girl's father. 'I want you to go to the library and wait for me there. I will join you once all the instructions have been given.'

'But, my Lord, ...'

'What, Duncan?' Voldemort replied, a sneer on his face. 'Would you rather witness the deflowering of your daughter?'

McKibben blushed and then paled just as quickly. 'No, my Lord,' he muttered, bowing deeply to apologise for his insolence.

'Who says the girl is indeed still a virgin?' came the low, drawling voice of Lucius Malfoy out of the shadows. 'We all know what can happen in dark corridors and empty classrooms at Hogwarts. Or in the Slytherin common room, for that matter. Don't we?'

Everyone chuckled. Everyone but McKibben. 'My daughter is untouched,' he announced in a convinced tone. He was standing straight again, with his chest puffed out and his eyes flashing angrily. 'I can vouch for that.'

Snape sneered. McKibben could vouch for his daughter's chastity? How was he able to do that? Had he made the girl swear a second Unbreakable Vow, that she would not have intercourse before her father allowed it? What kind of father was this man? But to be quite honest, when it came to Duncan McKibben and his daughter, nothing could surprise Snape anymore.

'Duncan, the library,' the Dark Lord repeated in a tone one would expect from a school teacher who sent a six-year-old out of the classroom in order to make him think about his misbehaviours. And once more, McKibben bowed and then left the room without another word.

'Now, Bellatrix,' the Dark Lord addressed his most devoted follower. 'Who do you want to be present in the bed chamber?'

'Rudolphus and Lucius,' Bellatrix replied at once. 'And Snape, Avery, Nott and Macnair.'

The Dark Lord nodded. 'You heard the lady,' he said in a lazy tone. 'You others are dismissed. No! Not you, silly boy! You, we need.'

Bellatrix huffed and rolled her eyes as Barty, who – like the rest of the Death Eaters – had bowed and made his way towards the door. Obviously, she was disappointed about the lack of intelligence her protégé was displaying.

'My Lord, forgive me, I do not understand,' Barty piped up, bowing so low that his straw blond hair almost touched the floor. 'What is it that I am expected to do?'

The Dark Lord's lips twitched. 'So young. So innocent. Bellatrix, enlighten the youngster.'

'You're are supposed to make the girl yours tonight, Barty,' Bellatrix repeated. The sound of her voice was ever so patient and understanding, and the way she patted Barty on his back suggested that she had the deepest understanding for his confusion. But anyone who knew her understood that it was just for show. Bellatrix knew that she had come up with a twisted idea that would bring nothing but pain and misery to anyone involved. And she was about to enjoy every second of it.

'Your bride is awaiting you,' she went on, taking the young man by his hands and pulling him up. 'A young, innocent girl, ready for the taking. She'll be yours, all yours.'

'What are we others supposed to do?' Nott interrupted, leering. 'What exactly do you mean, we have to witness the act, Bellatrix?'

Avery grunted, so did Macnair. The only one who looked slightly discomforted was Rudolphus Lestrange.

'All you'll have to do is keep up the magical energy,' Bellatrix explained.

Snape scowled. This all sounded like utter humbug to him. And he knew Bellatrix well enough to suspect that there were no witnesses required, but that she only wanted to fill the room with people to make the situation utterly uncomfortable for Barty and the girl and thus satisfy her own perverse lusting. Most probably, there was not even such a spell as the one she had been talking about. Most probably, she was just in the mood for a perverted, voyeuristic game. And the Dark Lord allowed it in order to humour her.

'So, we do get to watch?' Avery asked. If he were any more excited, he would be drooling.

'You will be in the room,' Bellatrix pointed out. 'I don't trust you enough to be close to the girl. You might start pawing at her and disturb the magic.'

Again, everyone laughed, even Avery.

'But I will require an assistant,' Bellatrix continued, 'someone who'll keep the magical energy strong.'

Snape didn't even think. 'I will assist you,' he responded quickly, regretting his decision in the same moment the last syllable of his answer had left his mouth.

He was disgusted. Thoroughly disgusted. He had long since known that Bellatrix Lestrange was a twisted, sadistic lunatic. But this! This was low even by her standards.

Snape looked around the room. It was a pretty chamber, painted in soft pastel tones. The bedsheets were of the finest white silk. There were candles burning, emitting a sweet scent that reminded Snape of midsummer roses. Surely, if Narcissa and Lucius ever had a daughter, this room would be her bridal chamber. Hopefully, however, that girl would have the fortune of having to entertain none other but her husband on her wedding night.

Avery, Nott, Macnair and Rodolphus Lestrange had already taken their positions behind the curtains of the four-poster bed. Bellatrix had insisted that they would not have a direct view of the young couple but stay behind the curtains. As if it mattered, Snape thought. They would still be there. They would still witness a moment no young woman should have to share with anyone but her lover. Snape himself stood at the foot of the bed, right beside Bellatrix. They, in contrast to the other five, would have a good view of whatever went on between the silken sheets. And Bellatrix for one would be watching intently, Snape was certain of that. He, on the other hand, would keep his eyes on the curtains, the pillow, hell, on anything but the girl. It was the least he could do for her and the very reason why he had volunteered to assist Bellatrix. Standing closest to the bed of all the men, he would at least be able and willing to make use of his option to avert his eyes.

Yes, he would not watch. He mustn't. For the girl's sake.

The door opened, and in came Lucius Malfoy. In his wake was young Barty, wearing a silken, expensive looking robe.

'Here comes the groom,' Lucius said jokingly and gestured for Barty to disrobe and climb into bed.

At least, the boy had the decency to not look excited, Snape thought as Lucius theatrically placed the silken robe on a chair beside the bed and took his position behind the curtains. Then again, Barty had no reason to be excited. He was about to perform in front of seven witnesses with a girl he barely knew, a girl who had not made the decision to share his bed herself. Barty must know that whatever he was about to do with the girl was nothing short of rape. Hopefully, he would at least make it easy on her.

The door opened a second time. This time, Narcissa Malfoy entered, holding Nadezhda by her hand. The girl, too, was wearing a white, silken robe. As so often, her head was slightly lowered, and her hair was covering her face like a set of black curtains. And for the first time, Snape was glad that he did not have to look into her eyes. He did not even want to think about what he might see there.

'Here comes the bride,' Bellatrix sang before starting to cackle madly, and the men behind the curtains chuckled.

Narcissa shot her sister a cold look, and Snape saw her squeeze the girl's hand, which made him wonder what exactly Narcissa had included in her so called motherly talk. Had she consoled the girl? Had she told her that she felt sorry for her? Or had she just advised her to close her eyes and think of England? He hoped for the first.

Beside the bed, Narcissa gently patted the girl's cheek and kissed her forehead before helping her out of her robe, and Snape couldn't help but feel an enormous gratitude towards the wife of Lucius Malfoy. She might have carried out her orders without questioning them, but she seemed at least have done everything in her power to mentally support the girl.

Just like Lucius had done, Narcissa carefully folded the robes and put them onto a chair while the girl slipped under the sheets. Then Narcissa left, closing the door just slowly enough to be able to cast a furtive look in the direction of her husband.

Bellatrix raised her wand. 'Let us start then, shall we?'

Some candles went out, and the temperature seemed to drop by several degrees. Snape sneered. He had always known that Bellatrix was a drama queen, but this was just ridiculous. And so was the reaction of the five men behind the curtains who all inhaled rather sharply and seemed to retreat an inch or two. What a cowardly bunch they were! The Dark Lord would be ashamed if he knew.

Snape cast a look towards the two young adults in the bed. Barty was lying on his side with his head propped up, watching his so called bride. She, however, lay motionless on her back, her face vacuous and her eyes half closed. She looked almost as if she were about to fall asleep or meditating. Had Narcissa given the girl a potion, Snape wondered. Had she been that kind?

Barty tentatively reached out for his bride and twined a lock of her black hair around his finger. 'You're pretty,' he whispered. 'But don't you ever smile?'

'I smile when I have a reason to,' she replied quietly, turning her head and opening her eyes to look at the young man beside her. She looked neither scared nor anxious. 'It doesn't happen too often.'

Barty nodded and smiled sadly. He seemed to understand her reasoning all but too well.

'Stop being all sugary, Barty,' Bellatrix hissed. 'You're not here to play Casanova.'

Barty flinched as if being hit on the back of his head and obediently rolled over to kiss his bride. Snape slightly shifted his position, too. Things were about to happen, and he had no desire to watch. He had sworn to himself that he wouldn't. Instead, he focused on Bellatrix: her eyes were widened, her pupils dilated and her lips slightly parted. She was excited, so much was clear. And still she held her wand high in the air.

Snape heard the sheets rustle and the sound of lips making contact with soft skin. He also heard Barty's breathing become laboured. He ventured a look.

The sheet had slid down, and now the girl's neck was exposed. So was one of her breasts. The other was covered by Barty's hand. He could have been described as gentle for the way he was caressing his bride's breasts and covering her neck with kisses. But she didn't seem to appreciate it, and every time Barty tried to catch her mouth with his, she turned her head away.

'Whenever you're ready, Barty. We have all bloody night.' Bellatrix's voice was dripping with irony. It was very clear that she had no inclination to wait any longer.

Barty shifted his weight, pressing himself against his bride and latching on to her neck, leaving a mark as he released her. Then he whispered something which Snape couldn't hear. But the girl could, obviously. She nodded almost imperceptibly, and the next moment, Barty positioned himself between her thighs.

'Yes!'

Bellatrix's triumphant outcry covered any kind of sound the young couple had uttered in the moment of their coupling, but Snape didn't need to hear. He had seen the muscles in the girl's jaw tighten and her hand cramp around the silken sheets. He had also seen the solitary tear that had managed to escape before she had squeezed her eyes shut. The deed was done, then, Snape thought bitterly. Nadezhda was no child anymore. And her virgin blood was about to seal her fate.

'Come on, Barty. I know you can do better than this,' Bellatrix mocked. 'Take her. Make her truly yours.'

Snape whirled around to stare at Bellatrix. But of course! He should have known that she had taken Barty under her wings in more than one way. It was just like her to develop a taste for young flesh. Surely, she had taken Barty to her bed already on the night he had received the Mark and lured him back there regularly ever since, with or without her husband's consent. And Snape didn't even dare imagine what kind of perversities Bellatrix had taught the boy.

Truly, Barty seemed to be under the dark witch's power. As she had commanded, he started to move faster, thrusting into his bride with a ferocity that made Snape want to vomit. Why did Barty have to listen to Bellatrix? Why did he not have the guts to stand up against her and continue as he had started? He had been sweet to the girl at first. Did Bellatrix have to take that away from them? Did Barty have to let her?

'Yes, Barty! Yes!'

With disgust, Snape watched Bellatrix rock her hips in the same rhythm as Barty. There was a deranged smile on her face and sweat on her brow. And judging from her laboured breathing and ecstatic screaming, it could have been her who was being taken, not Nadezhda. There really was no spell, Snape concluded. The whole thing was only being staged in order to satisfy Bellatrix's perverse lusting. But he was proven wrong.

The moment Barty collapsed on his bride with an animalistic outcry, Bellatrix slumped over, too, just to rise again after a fraction of a second, raising both her arms into the air.

'Now, Snape!' she bellowed.

The surge of power that hit him made Snape lose his balance for a moment, but he managed to raise his arms in a similar fashion to what Bellatrix had done. He had no idea what he was doing, actually, and just mimicked her movements. But he could sense her magic, could see it hanging in the air, a blanket of some cold, dark mass that seemed to hover over the bed. The last candles went out, but the room didn't become dark. There was a faint light engulfing the young couple in bed, illuminating them in an utterly eerie fashion.

'Move away, Barty! I need to see!' Bellatrix screeched, and the young man immediately withdrew to cower at the edge of the bed, leaving his bride exposed and vulnerable.

To Snape's utter surprise, Nadezhda did not move. He had expected her to make a dash for the sheets or her robe to cover herself, but she lay motionless, her legs still parted and her hands still clutching the silken sheets so tightly that her knuckles turned white.

'Yes!' Bellatrix exclaimed triumphantly, staring at the few drops of crimson that sullied the white sheets. 'There's blood! She's yours, Barty. Yours! OURS!'

The energy in the air shifted. Earlier, it had been hovering over the bed, but now it seemed to plunge down, showering them all with glacial water. The ghostly light disappeared, and from somewhere in the darkness came a cry of terror that echoed from the walls, filling the room with an icy cold that seeped into everyone's bones, threatening to freeze their very marrow. Snape winced and tried to shut the sound out. He had no idea who had been screaming. It could have been Nadezhda. It could have been Bellatrix. Or it could just as well have been he himself.

It was over as suddenly as it had begun. Bellatrix collapsed and was caught by her husband, who had detached himself from the shadows behind the curtains. A quick look into the direction from where Rudolphus had come running told Snape that the others four men had already left. Most probably, they had been put to flight once they had realised that their peep show had turned into a true and horrifying display of dark magic. Cowards!

'It's alright. You're safe.'

The whispered words from the bed made Snape ignore the Lestranges and turn towards the young couple. He couldn't see much, as the room was now wrapped in darkness, but he could make out the outline of two people closely huddled together. And he could clearly hear Barty whisper to his bride.

Frowning, Snape raised his wand. 'Lumos.'

The Lestranges had gone, Snape noticed, and he directed his wandlight towards the bed. There he found Barty with his arms wrapped around his bride's shoulders, softly whispering to her.

'Put your robes on, both of you,' Snape snapped, striding over to the bedside cabinet to re-light some of the candles. He was slightly taken aback. He had not expected Barty to suddenly play the protector, and he had most certainly not expected Nadezhda to let herself being cradled like a frightened child. Both actions annoyed him utterly.

But first and foremost, he could not believe his ears. How could Barty claim that everything was alright and that Nadezhda was safe? Nothing was alright. No one was safe. Not now. Not ever. Not as long as the Dark Lord was around.