On a Night Like This

Disclaimer: everything belongs to JKR, I am making no money


Chapter Ten: Sell My Soul


Lucius Malfoy, his oldest friend, brought him to his first Deatheater rally. Acts of violence were still in the theoretical stage and the rally itself was mostly bullshit rhetoric. Severus was not too terribly interested in their pureblood supremacy notions. He had witnessed firsthand the power muggle-borns could possess. In school he had frequently been partnered with Lily Evans. She had been brilliant and likable enough despite her heritage. They probably could have been friends even had it not been for her association with the Marauders. Lucius didn’t really believe in it either, but he was able to stomach it as a means to an end. Severus was always impressed at the way his friend was able to do anything to get what he wanted, even if it meant aligning himself with a bunch of dunderheads. But if he came for Lucius, he stayed for her.

Severus ran his hand up Bella’s thigh.

He clearly remembered the first time he saw her. It wasn’t long after things started to get strange at the meetings; he had just been mentioning to Lucius that he didn’t want to come anymore. Voldemort was preaching to his followers (Severus had early on noticed the similarities between the Deatheaters and muggle cults. They start out tame and gradually brainwash you into more and more serious acts) and a couple of guys in the back started to get rowdy. They were a little too excited and began to fight with each other. Voldemort motioned to someone behind him. A tiny girl walked out with a bored expression on her face. She calmly approached the men fighting and asked in a polite voice for them to cease.

His hand grazed the side of her stomach and cupped her jaw.

A few titters went through the crowd. These men were burly and overexcited and showed no intention of listening to a girl who was little more than a child. She sighed and muttered something about asking nicely. Suddenly the men were writhing on the ground, screaming. They were only under the curse for a few seconds. Later in Voldemort’s reign the cruciatus curse was regularly inflicted for periods of minutes, not seconds. A few seconds was only enough to get someone’s attention, really. There were no lingering effects other than a bit of an ache. The crowd was quiet as she walked away silently. He had been staring at her and for a moment her glance had rested on him before sweeping onward. She had kissed Voldemort lightly on the cheek and disappeared (He did not inhabit his repulsive body yet, he was actually still quite a handsome man). Everyone wondered who she was, none more than Severus Snape.

He kissed her lips lightly, sucking at her bottom lip the way he knew she loved.

He went to all the meetings after that, hoping to get a glimpse of her. He fell increasingly farther into the ranks of the Deatheaters. He and Lucius advanced together, becoming some of Voldemort’s most trusted followers. One day in a private meeting with the inner circle, Voldemort expressed a desire for them all to wed. He wished for them to produce more pureblood witches and wizards. The old wizarding families were fading away quickly and he meant to put a stop to it. Increasing the purebloods was the first step; eliminating muggle-borns was yet to come. They had agreed, most were about to marry anyway. Lucius had already set the date for his wedding to Narcissa. Severus wondered briefly who he would marry. He had been with a few women. The same dark brooding look that pushed most women away attracted some. He was no stranger to the fairer sex.

His mouth traced a path from her chin down to her navel, swirling gently around the muggle stud she kept there.

Those women couldn’t get enough of him and for a short time he enjoyed each of them. He simply couldn’t imagine being married to any of them. He tired of most women quickly. While they were drawn to his “bad boy” image, as one woman put it, they soon tried to change him. He had no interest in changing his ways. Voldemort quickly solved his problem. “Severus,” he addressed him quietly, “I hope you have not set your mind on anyone already.” He shook his head, indicating he had not. “Excellent. Someone has already spoken for you.” He was confused. Who would express a desire to marry him? He could not even recall meeting any unmarried women at the Deatheater rallies. He remembered one, Bellatrix Black. He shuddered and silently wished it not her. He knew her enthusiasm had won her great favor with the dark lord.

He tongue ventured lower and made a lazy circle around her clit as she gasped with pleasure.

Voldemort chuckled, an evil sound without mirth. He had read the thought in Severus’s mind, its intense emotion pushing it past his mental wall. “She asked for you too, of course. The woman is enamored. Fortunately for you, someone beat her to it. My daughter has already asked for your hand.” There were some surprised looks. No one had known anything about his family; they simply assumed he had none. Many looked envious. This was a great show of loyalty in Severus. He wondered if he had ever met his daughter. He was not thrilled at this idea. Voldemort was becoming increasingly more active. They had tortured a few muggle born witches at rallies and burned several house down, residents still inside. Severus did not wish to be tied to him forever.

Her hands pushed his mouth away and she took his cock in her small hands, guiding him in.

He had to wait until the wedding to meet her. This was not saying much, as it was held the next day. The dark lord had wanted it to take place as soon as possible. He feared many things about that day. He worried that she would be cruel and evil like Bellatrix. He also worried that she would be repulsive. He didn’t worry too much about her opinion of him; she had chosen him after all. Walking up to the altar, he nearly died with shock to see it was his mystery girl. He had all but forgotten her, it had been so long. Standing facing her, she showed absolutely no recognition. Her face was impassive, as if she was doing any mundane task instead of being bound forever to a man she had never even spoken to. It did not change as she was Belladonna Riddle no longer, but Belladonna Snape.

He sighed with pleasure to be sheathed in her after so much time apart.

Their wedding night was spent sequestered in Snape Manor. His parents had passed long ago, it was his home now. Their home. She spoke little upon their arrival. He finally gathered the courage to ask why she had chosen him. “I like you,” she stated simply, as if it was as obvious as the nose on his face. “I had to marry and you were the only man I can abide. Even though I never actually met you, I could tell.” She had surprised him. Few could abide him, and even fewer of those could he himself tolerate in return. Yet he felt strangely at ease in her presence. She made no pretenses. She said exactly what she thought. Dinner was delicious and she told him so. She also informed him that brown was a hideous color for the drapes in the Manor and that she would remedy that tomorrow.

He began to thrust into her, gently at first and quickly gaining speed.

He had retired to his chambers after showing her to hers. He had showered and lay in bed when he heard her enter his room. This was surprising. She had been friendly but indifferent to him all night. He had no wish to anger Voldemort by taking his daughter against her will so he let her be. She slipped in next to him. He could feel the silk of her negligee brush against his skin. She trailed a hand down his face almost haltingly, as if she was slightly nervous. Shocked, he asked what she was doing. “Taking what’s mine,” she had murmured into his ear. He had never met a woman so aggressive in his presence and it excited him greatly. Those that were attracted to him were usually submissive, something he tolerated but didn’t enjoy. “That is, unless you object?” she looked up at him questioningly.

He felt her walls contract around him as she whispered his name, her mouth muffled by his neck.

That had been all the encouragement he needed. He spun so that she lay flat with him straddling her. “I could not bear to object, sweet,” he muttered as he nuzzled her hair. He had taken her hard and fast that night, as he would many others. The more he found out about her, the deeper he fell in love with her. Hopeless would have been an excellent description for him. He would have gone to the ends of the earth for her. However he was always saddened that she did not feel the same. Severus knew she wanted him; the desire was evident in her eyes. But that was no substitute for love. One night as he knew she was nearing climax he felt her mental guards drop. Not only that, but he could feel her pull him in, something only an extremely powerful Legilimens could accomplish. He felt her love for him as she came, and he showed her his own when he came moments later. This became common, opening their minds for the other during sex. It was much more stimulating to feel twice the pleasure.

He thrust desperately now, his mind concerned only with release.

They hardly ever mentioned Voldemort. They appeared a normal couple despite the increasingly atrocious acts they were performing in the dark lord’s name. He always feared their relationship, though she never mentioned it to him. She never affirmed her loyalty to him, though she never put it in doubt either. It was as if it never happened, that she didn’t leave when her mark burned. He had been surprised to see the hideous mark on her otherwise beautiful arm, though he should not have been. A turning point in his own loyalty had come not long after they were wed. Voldemort demanded that he kill two muggle children. He had eventually given in, but he paid dearly for his hesitancy with the cruciatus curse later. He had gone to Dumbledore that night, confessing everything and begging forgiveness. He thought not of his Deatheater wife and what it would do to her. He thought of nothing but those children’s screams as he sent them to their deaths.

He felt himself near, and opened his mind as he had done so many times before.

Severus blocked his treachery off in his mind, hoping his occlumency skills were powerful enough to keep her from seeing it. He did not fear Voldemort’s wrath, but hers. He would die if she stopped loving him. One particularly passionate night she did not go to sleep afterward. She rose and poured herself a whisky and then sat silently, drinking in an armchair by the fire. He watched her quietly, wondering what the cause of her silent reverie was. When she spoke his worst fears were realized. “I saw Dumbledore,” she said quietly, “and what you said to him.” He knew exactly what she meant and quickly weighed his options. He would have to kill them both to protect the Light. He did not partially pledge himself to anything and he would die for his causes. She would have to die to protect his secret. He could not live without her nor did he desire to. He would take his own life along with hers. She swirled the whisky and continued. “I know the truth now. We will retain out public image in the same manner we always have. We will attend to the dark lord as if nothing has changed. But we will know the truth, that it is nothing more than a charade. In private we will know the truth. We no longer have to pretend.” Severus started to move toward his wand when she completely blew him out of the water. “We no longer have to pretend that we are loyal to the dark lord.”

He came with a cry, slumping down and kissing his beautiful wife gently on the lips. He whispered “Nox” to extinguish the lights and quickly joined Belladonna in sleep.

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Please review! Tell me if you like the layout of this chapter, it was how I imagined it in my mind but I am not sure how well I translated it into words. Sell my soul is a song by Our Lady Peace.