A Song for Severus ~ (Not Update, but Edit)

Chapter 13 ~ Draco Attends the Revel


Draco had just descended the stairwell when he met Fenrir walking up the corridor, an unconscious muggle woman thrown over his shoulder. Draco could see congealed blood on her white t-shirt. Still, she didn’t look dead. Her color was good.

“Fenrir,” he said by way of greeting.

“Draco,” the werewolf growled in return, his yellow eyes resting on the young wizard before the werewolf took to the stairs, bounding up several steps at a time.

Draco watched him go. No doubt Fenrir planned to have a private revel of his own. Hopefully he would kill the muggle quickly afterwards. Draco began walking up the corridor. He could already hear the screams of women and laughter of Death Eaters indulging themselves.

Taking a deep breath, Draco walked through the large archway into the large room Pumbleberry provided for his guests. When Voldemort threw revels, the most the Death Eaters could count on were dirty mattresses. The Dark Lord enjoyed the acts more this way, they seemed even more despicable and horrid. But Pumbleberry went all out, providing food, drink, sofas and beds for the Death Eaters. Ropes, whips, restraining chairs and manacles were also provided for those who preferred them. The surroundings were kept immaculate, all blood and other bodily fluids carefully and thoroughly scourgified away after each act. Blood stains were left all over the Dark Lord’s throne room when he reigned.

In the center of the room, there was an extremely large four-poster bed, the mattress twice the size of a king-sized one on a raised dais, around which chairs were set up for those who wanted to observe a raping or participate. This bed was used exclusively for gang rapes. A dozen wizard and witches could fit on it and usually did. House elves with their ears flattened in horror served appetizers. Scattered conversations could be heard, a low murmur under the shrieks and cries of the muggle women being brutalized in every orifice.

Pumbleberry really knew how to throw a revel.

Draco waded his way through the Death Eaters milling about. All beds and sofas were on one side of the room. Draco’s face contorted slightly as he glanced at the tangled bodies and pumping buttocks that occupied the beds and sofas, thankful Pumbleberry utilized an air freshening spell, otherwise he would have gagged on the scent of sex and blood. He walked over to the libations table and poured himself a stiff firewhiskey, downing it in one shot.

He put the glass down and watched as a muggle woman was forced to crawl on her hands and knees over to the bed area as a trouserless Death Eater with a huge erection followed, kicking her in the ass and spitting on her.

“Crawl faster, bitch,” he hissed, kicking her again as she sobbed.

Draco looked away. There was nothing he could do for her now. Later, most likely he would put the woman out of her misery.

Pumbleberry barreled up to Draco with a big smile on his face. He was a rotund, barrel-bellied wizard with a black waxed handlebar mustache and a comb-over. His blue eyes were rather rheumy, and he had a habit of hemming when he spoke. And when he spoke, it was usually about how wonderful a host he was.

“Urm…hello Draco. Lovely revel isn’t it? Urm…I spared no expense…no expense,” he said to the blonde wizard as he looked over at the bed area and the wildly fucking guests. “Nice turnout tonight. Urm…plenty of muggles to go around. I provided several myself. Urm.”

Draco’s eyes rested on Pumbleberry.

“Yes. You’ve gone all out,” he replied.

“Urm…yes,” Pumbleberry said, his eyes flicking toward the young wizard’s loins. “Urm…how goes the quest for a cure? A shame a young lad like you can’t participate. I would offer you one muggle exclusively…urm…but that would cause a terrible row with the others, who have to share.”

“I have healers still working on it,” Draco lied.

He didn’t address the one muggle idea, though if Pumbleberry had given him one of the women, he would have taken her away from the revel and let her go.

“Well, I hope they find a cure soon, Draco…urm…it must be hell to watch everyone enjoying themselves,” Pumbleberry said.

“It is,” Draco answered, “Pure hell, believe me.”

Pumbleberry shook his head sympathetically and patted Draco on the shoulder. A frightened muggle girl with red hair and freckles was brought into the room. She looked to be about thirteen. Pumbleberry’s rheumy eyes lit up.

“Excuse me, Draco…I’ve just seen something more to my…urm…tastes,” he said, barreling off toward the girl.

“Fucking pedophile,” Draco cursed under his breath, watching as Pumbleberry pulled up the girl’s shirt.

Her breasts were tiny and still developing and Pumbleberry caressed and squeezed them roughly, the young girl screaming in pain. He had the two deatheaters holding her drag her over to the bed area, unfastening his robes as he trundled after them. Draco turned away. He couldn’t watch that.

Then he noticed a small table set up with parchment and quills. A number of Death Eaters were standing nearby, talking among themselves and looking at the table from time to time. Draco walked over and looked at the parchment. It was a sign-up sheet for the Dark Lord competition. Several names were on it.

“Change your mind about signing up, Draco?” a familiar voice said behind him.

Draco looked around to see Devon standing there, a wry expression on his face.

“No, not at all. As I said, I’ll wait for the second round, when the stakes aren’t so high,” Draco lied. Like he wanted to be a scaly, bald-headed and malformed despot. Vanity ran in the Malfoy family and Draco intended to keep his good looks.

“How are your parents?” Devon asked him.

Draco frowned.

“They are being well-treated in Azkaban,” Draco replied, “I pay good galleons to make sure of it.”

Draco believed his parents truly belonged in Azkaban. Neither of them had been very good parents to him, Lucius having a terrible temper and being abusive, and his mother more concerned with pleasing his father than being a mother to him. She never once tried to protect him from Lucius’ beatings. But they were still his parents…so he did what he could to insure they were as comfortable as possible. Paying off the guards each month insured good treatment, and his mother and father were allowed conjugal visits twice a month in a private area, though the guards watched them fuck through a security mirror.

“Have to keep an eye on ‘em,” they’d say while unzipping up their trousers.

Narcissa was treated extra nicely, the guards all hoping that she might give one of them a shag one day. They were all Aurors however, and Aurors weren’t rapists. All Death Eater women were treated relatively fairly, though there was still some residual anger from the guards, some of whom had fought in the Final Battle and lost comrades. But quite a few of the witches did give up a shag now and then in exchange for preferential treatment. They usually got it rough when they did, but that was to be expected. Because of Draco’s monthly contributions, Narcissa didn’t need to spread her legs for anyone other than her husband. She remained faithful to Lucius.

“When we reunite under the new Dark Lord, the first act we are contemplating is breaking our comrades out of Azkaban,” Devon said to him. “And hide them. We are already designing an unplottable safe house.”

Draco was about to reply when a screech attracted his attention. Bellatrix LeStrange came storming through the archway, her wand drawn.

“How dare you hold a competition for a new Dark Lord!” she shrieked, her gray eyes falling on the table with the parchment. The Death Eaters standing near it backed away as she approached it, her face twisted in a snarl.

Devon’s eyes narrowed and he discreetly reached into his robes pocket, placing his hand on the end of his wand. On the other side of the room, the raping went on undisturbed.

Bellatrix stalked up to the table, grabbed the list and read it, then tore it into little pieces.

“That’s what I think of your ‘competition!’” she hissed, looking directly at Devon, “you have no right to do this, Devon!”

Devon pulled out his wand and calmly repaired the torn list, picking it up and placing it back on the table, leveling his eyes on Bella.

“And you have no right to tell me or any Death Eater here what we can and cannot do,” he said to her evenly, “If you want that right, I suggest you sign up.”

Bella was aware that several masked Death Eaters were standing around her now with their wands out. Devon had been expecting her, and enlisted the aid of several Death Eaters to help contain Bella should she start hexing. He promised them they could have at the witch if anything happened. So all of the wizards were hoping Bella would try something. Anything. Their faces were covered so the witch wouldn’t be able to identify them.

“Oh, so you’re all going to gang up on me?” she spat, giving Devon a withering look.

“We’re not about to let you rampage and ruin the revel, Bella,” Devon replied, his eyes hard. “And if you try it, you won’t just be attending this revel, you will be part of it.”

Bella’s face contorted hatefully and again she looked at the wizards surrounding her. Yes, she could see the lust in their eyes. Bella was vicious, but she wasn’t stupid. There was no way she could take all of them on, and she didn’t want to be forcibly taken as a result. Of course, they wouldn’t kill her, but Bella knew some of them had grudges from when she was Voldemort’s consort. The Dark Lord often let her torture his Death Eaters because she enjoyed it so much. To date, none had taken revenge on her because they would have had to go it alone. But now she was outnumbered. She could count on being brutalized if she tried anything.

She wasn’t in the mood for brutalization.

Bella put her wand in her pocket and glared at Devon. The surrounding Death Eaters looked very disappointed.

“You’re welcome to stay, Bella, if you behave yourself. As I said, you can add your name to the list if you want to tell us what to do,” Devon said to the witch, relaxing his hold on his wand. “Maybe you will become the next Dark Lady.”

Bella badly wanted to spit in Devon’s face, but that might be construed as an attack too.

“You’re going to pay for this, Devon,” she hissed.

“I’ll be watching my back, believe me Bella,” Devon replied, frowning at her.

“It won’t come from behind, Devon. It’s going to hit you right in the face,” Bella spat. Then her eyes shifted to Draco and narrowed.

“Are you going to compete, Draco?” she asked him.

Draco shook his head.

“Now, you’re a smart wizard who knows his place,” she said to Draco, “Not like these fools. They will all be very, very sorry. Just wait.”

Devon and the rest of the wizards walked away.

Suddenly, Bella caught Draco by the arm and pulled him aside. Her gray eyes glinting, she stared at Draco.

“Where is Severus? Usually you two attend revels together,” Bella hissed at him.

“I think he is working on the elixir,” Draco replied.

Bellatrix scowled blackly.

“Tell him I wish to meet with him,” she said to the wizard.

“Yes!” Draco thought. Finally, a breakthrough.

“Where and when?” Draco asked her.

“Two days from now. Tell him I want to meet where the stones kiss. Just before sunset. He knows where,” she replied. “Tell him it is important. Tell him it might mean life or death to him. He must be there.”

“Where the stones kiss, before sunset two days from tonight,” Draco repeated.

Bellatrix nodded.

“Yes. Be sure to tell him, Draco,” she said with narrowed eyes. “Your assistance will be remembered when the true Dark Lord comes to power.”

Draco nodded, and Bellatrix turned and exited the room. She had said what she had to say. The witch knew they wouldn’t listen to her…but she made the effort. It wasn’t a great one, but enough to warrant death for Devon when Voltaire came to power. She walked quickly down the corridor, up the long flight of stairs, stepped out into the night and disapparated back to her stronghold.

Draco lingered for about twenty minutes more, then left the revel. He had made a connection with Bellatrix…there was no reason to stay until the madness ended.

He had a message for Severus.

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A/N: So, Bella wants to meet with Severus. The story is moving right along. Pumbleberry is disgusting. I hope he gets his. We’ll see. We’re going to find out what Fenrir did when he left the revel and I’ll be getting back to Severus and Hermione next chapter. That girl got some ‘splaining to do. Lol. Thanks for reading.