A/N: Extra-long chapter! For those of you wondering about Beatrice's idiot-brother (thanks RB for the excellent description), here is a little more back story explained. This chapter is rated M for violence and strong language... yep. I do not condone this behavior and find it completely abhorrent, but it is simply how I am reading the characters.


Chapter 7

Weeks passed, and the summer grew old. Severus had to admit that having an elf wasn't the worst thing in the world; there wasn't a speck of dust to be found. He and Beatrice had grown comfortable with their strange arrangement, though comfortable was the last word that Severus would use to describe the springs in the couch. He just couldn't bring himself to demand any more from his wife, as he feared turning out just like his parents. Instead he treated her much like an unwanted roommate. This plan of his would have been much more effective he could forget that this 'roommate' was also female.

A reasonably attractive female.

He had never been in such extended proximity with a woman before... and wasn't she his, theoretically?

After that day in the garden, his mind had gone full traitor on him. He kept finding himself thinking inappropriate thoughts at inappropriate moments and finding himself thrust into compromising situations. He found himself watching her walk and observing the gentle way her hips would sway as she paced around the room. He would watch, enraptured, at how her delicate hands would stroke her silken thread as she embroidered while he read the Evening Prophet; there were several times he found himself on the same page after an hour had past. One time, he had quietly sneaked upstairs to take a shower, thinking that his wife was still asleep. To his surprise, she was in the bath, and he had received a first class view of her backside, and it was every bit as round and smooth and shapely as he had imagined. He had felt his heart go into paroxysms, and it had taken all of his discipline to quietly shut the door. As he hadn't had a repeat of the bucket incident, he assumed that she had never discovered his intrusion.

Today, Beatrice had gone to visit her family in London, leaving Severus to blissfully suffer alone.

He had barely sat down before he felt his Dark Mark flare with a searing heat. He hissed, clutching his forearm, before racing up the stairs to the hidden drawer in his wardrobe. He pulled out his robes and mask and quickly put them on. He didn't know why he was being called in the middle of the day, but it must have been urgent for the Dark Lord to demand his presence in such a way.

Severus made his way down the stairs and to the back yard where he Disapparated, following the call of the mark.


Beatrice was sitting in the parlour of her parents' house, listening to her mother tell of her younger sibling latest adventures. It felt good to hear about such trivialities; Severus wasn't the most sociable of creatures and Beatrice did not feel comfortable enough to try and interact with her muggle neighbours. It left her with little outlet for her naturally chatty self.

Besides that, it was so depressing being at her new home, drab and unkempt as it was. Beatrice had performed all of the household charms in her arsenal, but there still wasn't much life in that hovel, she thought with distaste. With Dippy, she had a much easier time keeping things spic and span, but with Severus not letting her redecorate, there was little she could do for that old house. She missed the opulence she had grown up with, and the presence of all of the elves to do the heavy lifting.

And the baking. She reached for one of the petit fours on the silver tray held by her mother's elf.

"So tell me again, what happened to Mittens?"

"Mittens?" Mrs. Dagworth repeated. "Ever since your sister has turned three, she has had such a fascination with that cat." She put down her teacup. "Annette finally caught her... with a summoning charm, no less. Nanny certainly has a handful with her."

"Her first bit of accidental magic? How exciting!"

"Yes it is, hopefully she will take after you and not your brother; I don't think my heart could handle another one like him." Mrs. Dagworth reached down to ring a bell on the table. "Moggy, take this tray back to the kitchen."

"Yes, mistress."

The elf clicked his fingers and all of the tea items floated his way.

After a minute of silence, Beatrice's mother leaned forward and took her daughter's hands between her own. She looked at her with deep concern. "Dear heart," she whispered. "Tell me, truly, has he treated you well? You must be careful with his ilk, just look at how different your brother has become over these few months. He sold you!" she pleaded emphatically. "And his temper... If your father were well, he never would allow this."

"Mother, he needs that potion... I've only done what I must."

"Sister!" A loud bang accompanied the shout, and they turned with a start.

A tall, swarthy man in dark blue robes barged into the room, slamming open the door and sending their elf Moggy skidding into the wall and the tea things flying.

Mrs. Dagworth flinched at the noise. "Tiberius, you've returned." She forced a smile.

"I've brought the potion for father. The Dark Lord sends his regards." He carelessly tossed an emerald green vial into his mother's lap.

"Yes, the Dark Lord saw fit to let me come visit when he heard you were in town, dear sister." he came over and kissed Beatrice on the cheek. "How have you been? Old Sevvy treating you well?"

The shutters fell down on Beatrice's smile. "His name is Severus."

"Sev, Sevvy... what's in a name?" Tiberius Dagworth laughed and clapped his sister roughly on the back. Beatrice grimaced as he gripped her shoulder. "Whatever you call him, I'm sure you have lots of stories to tell. It's been what...a month or so?"

She met his wink with a sneer that would do Severus proud. "I'm sure my stories would bore you to tears," she answered lightly. Something did not rub her right about this conversation. She scrambled to remember something, anything, from those her textbooks. "We sit around all day and read books. Why, just the other day he was trying to explain to me how the Law of Contagion works to combine volatile ingredients in potion making. For example—"

Tiberius threw up his hands to stall the forthcoming lecture. "Save it, sister. You know I never had a mind of all of that intellectual drivel."

He sat, sprawling rudely in the arm chair closest to his sister and mother. "I was hoping you could tell me more about him as a person. What is he like underneath all of those buttons?"

The tone of her brother's voice countered the innocence of his question. What interest could he possibly have for that information? "What do you mean by that?" she asked sharply.

Tiberius back-pedalled with little finesse. "Oh, you know, certainly he has some, ah—habits."

Beatrice didn't know if this question made her feel any better. Why did he want to know about her husband's habits, of all things? She was sure they knew each other, they were both Death Eaters.

Beatrice made a show of straightening her skirts. "If you're that interested, you could always talk to him yourself. We only live a Floo call away." She made a motion to stand. "I could go call him now, if you like."

She was surprised by the glimmer of fear that flashed through her brother's eyes.

"No need for that, dear sister," he answered. "I just wanted to get to know my brother-in-law better, that is all."

"Clearly." She didn't believe a word.


"My Lord," Severus greeted. He kneeled at Voldemort's feet and kissed the hem of those mouldy robes. When he stood, Severus realised he was the only wizard around, and that they were in the Riddle family graveyard.

"My Lord?" he said again, this time as a question. Those two words were always the safest response to give the mad wizard.

"Ah, Severus. How nice of you to come when called, I thought you might have been... occupied if I called you later." Voldemort chuckled at his own joke. He began to walk around the tombstones and Severus followed, a respectful two steps behind.

"There is nothing more important than your call," Severus answered.

"Is that so?" Voldemort paused at the side of an empty grave. He brushed a clod of dirt into the gaping hole. "How have you been enjoying your... reward?"

His brow furrowed as he answered. "Well enough, my Lord." Severus was confused, not believing that was the reason the Dark Lord had called him away. Was he really here so the Dark Lord could vicariously get his jollies? He hid his confusion behind his usual composed facade.

"So you say, and yet I do not feel that you are enjoying my gift as much as you claim." Voldemort rounded on Severus. "It has been brought to my attention that you have not consummated the marriage yet. Do you deny this?"

He watched as the Dark Lord conjured the contract he had signed. There was the proof floating in the air, rust coloured signatures where there should have been gold. What? Seriously? Severus was so astounded by the absurd turn his life has taken, that for the first time, he was at a loss for words. "My... my Lord?"

The conjured scroll disappeared with a pop, leaving a smirking Voldemort behind. "There are potions for any ah—issues you may have." Severus felt bile rise in his throat at the thought of the Dark Lord giving him sexual advice.

"There are no issues, my Lord," he finally gritted out. Severus was glad that his mask hid the revulsion he was sure coloured his face.

"Oh, then shall we say that you fly for the other team?"

A strangled noise was his only response.

Voldemort bent down to pick a wild flower that struggled for life in the barren graveyard. He rolled the stem between the fingers of his wand hand. He uttered nonchalantly, "Take care of it or get rid of her; it makes little difference to me." Voldemort fixed his red eyes upon him. "The fact that you have yet to act leads me to believe that you disapprove of my decision, my little snake. It pains me to see you thinking so little of your gift, perhaps I should dispose of her for you?" To illustrate, the bloom within his fingers withered, then crumbled to ashes.

Severus bowed low, using the time to think carefully over his response. It was absolutely absurd that his life had come to this point, that he was about to beg graveside for his life and that of his Malfoy-gifted baggage. "My Lord," he said at last. "I am indeed grateful for your generosity, but I am simply waiting for the girl to come to me. I can already sense her resistance waning, and what a boon that would be to break her with! Giving into someone she considers below her, yet someone whom you have placed your utmost faith in!"

Voldemort looked at him in disbelief at that cobbled up story before giving a raspy laugh. "Oh Severus, you are always so amusing." His voice took on a sharp tone. "Now repair the situation before I rethink my generosity.

"Crucio."

After several moments, the curse was released by a lazy dip of Voldemort's wand. Severus stood shakily, gave another bow and stumbled back a few paces before Disapparating from the graveyard.


It was dark by the time he Apparated back to his back yard. After meeting with Voldemort and a pointless Order meeting, he was too angry to risk walking through the town, and just had to hope there weren't enough neighbours left to see him appear out of thin air. As things were, he barely resisted blasting the back door off of its hinges. He slammed the door and stormed from the kitchen to the sitting room. He stopped cold when he saw Beatrice sitting there; she must have returned earlier in the afternoon.

"Severus?"

He made an abrupt about-face and returned to the kitchen. Cabinet doors banged around as he sought his firewhiskey and a tumbler.

Beatrice heard the commotion from the sitting room, so she rose and followed him to the kitchen. "What happened? Where have you been?" she asked.

"Leave me," he snarled darkly. He popped the cork off of the firewhiskey with his teeth, and poured a heavy dram. Part of the drink sloshed onto the table.

She came closer, touching his arm. "Tell me what happened."

He threw off her touch and whirled on her. "Do you think you can fix everything? You don't know anything about me!" He stepped closer, pushing her back with his presence. "Damn you." He tossed the firewhisky back with one gulp.

Confusion coloured her eyes. "You don't mean that..."

"I don't?"

The strain and want of the past few weeks finally broke through him. Like lightning, he reached forward and gripped her head with his hands as he forced his lips against hers. His kiss was bruising at he fought for dominance, his breath came in harsh, ragged gasps. Distantly, he felt her fighting against him, and pressed harder.

"Stop!" Beatrice fought against him. She tried to twist away, but his nails held a bruising grip on her scalp. She didn't know or understand where his sudden rage had come from. She did the only thing she could and clawed at his shoulders with her nails, but found nothing but the layers of wool.

Severus pinned her against the refrigerator door, heedless of the handle pressing into her back. She tasted sweet, her tears mixing with the liquor and his spit. He pushed his hips against hers in a lewd intimation of acts they had never completed. Oh, how he wanted to conquer her, take her, share his damnation... He'd show her how to fix things.

There was a sharp pain, and he pulled away with a hiss.

"You bit me!" he wiped his lip with the cuff of his sleeve. He could taste the copper tang of blood in his mouth.

Beatrice yanked her wand out of her skirt pocket and pointed it at him. "Don't touch me!"

She panicked and tripped backwards where she collapsed against the cabinetry, her lungs gasping for air. She felt betrayed. This angry wizard, this was not the reserved bitter man she had come to know, this was a dark wizard, the Death Eater she had been threatened by. This is what her parents had warned her about when she had accepted Malfoy's bargain.

Severus leaned forward and Beatrice flinched away. Her wand clattered to the ground. The sound of the wand hitting the floor echoed ominously in her ears, and she realized she was trapped in a corner, with cabinets to her left, and the refrigerator to her right.

Severus gave a ragged breath as he reached out to touch Beatrice's face, his fingers trailing over the smooth flesh of her cheek. He gritted his teeth and assumed a cold mask of indifference.

Beatrice held her breath, unwilling to move over fear of what was to come. She watched him take another step forward and lower his face to hers, and she desperately tried not to tremble. His thumb traced the fullness of her lower lip, dipping in between those lips, touching her teeth, daring her to bite him again. Beatrice wouldn't dare meet his eyes.

"Go to bed, wife."

A sob caught in her throat.

"Go. To. Bed." he repeated. There was no missing the menace in his tone.

He took a jerky step back, and Beatrice used the opportunity to slide cautiously against the cabinetry. Once she was past him, she took off like a shot for the next room. She turned to look at him and he was standing rigid as if he had been petrified with tension clearly visible in his stance.

Beatrice felt tears streaming down her face as she battled with her confusion. She saw him turn his head to see her still standing there, and she dashed up the stairs.

Alone, Severus took another wipe at his swollen lip to only see more blood ooze slowly from the wound. He looked at his stained shirt cuff with disgust. He lashed out and punched the wall. He was desperate to release this pent up rage of his, but his only reward was split and bruised knuckles. "Damn it!"

"Fuck!"

He sank to the linoleum floor and stared at the empty doorway Beatrice had disappeared through.

In the end, he had only proven himself to be the monster he knew he was.

He had ruined everything.


A/N: Thank you, all, for your continued reviews! Guest, I would love to PM you about translation help... but, alas! I don't know who you are.