Life in an Alien Land 2: The Werewolf Chronicles

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LiaAL 2 WC

Chapter 14: To Everything There is a Season



3:18 I said in mine heart concerning the estate of the sons of men, that God might manifest them, and that they might see that they themselves are beasts.

Ecclesiastes 3 verse 18, King James Version



The time had come that I must make my final sacrifice. I saw this as clearly as I had known I would take the Dark Mark when I heard the Dark Lord speak for the first time. What a fool I was and would continue to be. I had tied my fate to two flame-haired women, for better and for worse.

We had been left out in the heat of late summer, stripped, tortured, and degraded for days. Ginevra had received the worst of the punishment. I will not enumerate the times or the types of torture she bore, nor will I lie and say that she suffered them stoically and bravely. She screamed and begged for mercy each time one of Greyback's henchmen raped her with whatever instrument was at hand. Her wails of pain and terror filled the square every time she was whipped, mutilated, and tortured. When the beasts took a break from their sport, I would assure her I was ready to accept my fate. She would reply through her broken and bleeding lips, ”I will never speak to you again if you give into him. If I can bear it, Snape, then so can you."

It was during the last round of punishment that I finally broke. The deciding factor had nothing to do with Ginevra's physical torture and everything to do with her mental state.

Early in the morning on the last day before the full moon, Molly was frog-marched between two of the more vicious young werewolves. They chained her out as we were, her face stoically calm as she was stripped, then scourged. Greyback took her from behind. He did so partially transformed, his girth semi-flaccid. Ginevra stifled a scream as one of the henchmen pulled her head up by her hair. Scant millimetres from her ear, he shouted, "Open your eyes and watch, you stupid bint, or he'll kill you and her both."

I noted the shaking tone of the man who appeared to be barely out of his teens. He wanted no part in this situation if I could tell from his body language. Ginevra complied, but I knew she was not registering what was happening before her eyes. I had seen too many victims do the same under my own rough hands not to know the signs of psychological fragmentation.

As had occurred during the entirety of our ordeal, the crowd's mood was becoming ugly. I heard murmurs of outrage as Greyback, after twenty or so minutes, finished with a slap to Molly's rump and ordered a line to form. No one moved. Not one man stepped forward to assume the role of rapist. Greyback lashed out with his booted foot, catching Molly in her midriff. I heard her strangled attempts to breathe and feared that he had done more damage than could be fixed. Finally, after what seemed like forever, Molly took a shuddering, painful breath, and then began coughing, the sound rattling and croupy.

Greyback sneered at the assembled crowd. "All right you traitorous bastards. I'll just implement an old Roman trick that worked to get the troops to obey. Such inventive and practical people, the Romans."

He called for the other henchman who had watched Molly's rape avidly. "Decimate them."

The henchman, a burly man with thick arms and a brutish set to his mouth, gave a leering smile. Several gun and whip wielding men closed off the street, and the process began. Decimation had been used by the ancient Roman military to ensure fidelity to the legion in which the soldiers served. It was a practice of culling every tenth person, brutally and immediately.

Greyback's man drew out a short machete-like sword from behind him and he began counting the crowd. There were some four hundred people assembled. Every tenth person, he gutted, leaving the victim to expire before beginning his morbid count once again. He came to a woman who carried an infant in her arms. He tapped the bloody sword against her cheek playfully and then moved it to the infant leaving smears of gore on both of them. "Are you tenth, or is that mewling little puke the tenth?"

The woman shrieked, thrusting herself against a small, pale, man who might have been an accountant before being turned. He stepped forward to shield the two with his body. His eyes watering, and his chin aquiver, the man said tremulously, "Let it be me."

The brutish henchman pushed the man down. "Fuck it. You're all tenth."

He slashed at the three, beheading the man in one swooping arc as he splashed blood from his knife onto the crowd. Next he gutted the woman, and then slashed at the infant who lay underneath its mother's prone body. Women screamed, and several men surged forward to stand in line but were whipped back into place. One older man tried to flee from the area and was shot in the back. He fell as if he were a discarded piece of parchment. The mob milled about, pushing at each other as they tried to avoid the deadly countdown. It took time for the infant to succumb to his wounds; its thin, piteous cries filled the square. When it took its last gasping breath an ominous silence reigned. The brute looked on impassively before giving the infant a nudge with his booted toe. When the infant did not respond, he spat and then moved to the next tenth victim.

When the deed was done, and the dead littered the flagstones of the square, men, women and children, Greyback laughed. His mirth-filled utterances rang off the cobbles and the brick facades like a death knell. He turned his attention to Molly, who had ceased coughing long since, and was now cowering against the stones in an attempt to shield her nudity from sight. Greyback motioned to the young man that still stood behind Ginevra. He trotted forward and Greyback murmured into his ear. The young man gave a sharp shake of his head and then shot a pitying look back at Ginevra. Greyback barked, "Now."

The young man backed away from the Alpha and then spun around and went to the church doors. He rapped on the doors with a theatrical bang and they swung open. Two men appeared, and within moments they marched Frederick to Greyback. He had been beaten and was favouring one leg as if he had more injuries than I could discern from the distance at which I sat. The boy's gaze shifted between his mother, myself, and his sister and then back to Molly, who was shaking her head violently, mouthing the word 'no' over and over.

Greyback announced, "Since I have no men serving me, I will make this boy do what you won't."

"Fred! No!" Ginevra's keening wail tore from her throat. "Mummy!

Frederick stiffened as Greyback levelled his wand at him. With a toothy grin he incanted, "Imperio!"

The men let go of Frederick, and I could see the effort the boy was making to throw off the curse. As Frederick resisted, I was almost thankful Barty Crouch Jr. had been one of his Defence teachers, but soon enough he was kneeling behind his mother, pumping his cock with his fist.

Ginevra flailed against her chains, screaming in murderous rage. I rose to my feet painfully, the stiffness of days on my knees sent shooting sparks of pain up my legs with cramping intensity. The horror spinning out before us had become too much for even my jaded outlook.

Greyback held up his hand and Frederick paused. It was obvious he fought the effects still from the sweat beading on his body and running down his back in freshets. "What is it, Traitor? Do you have something to say to your Master?"

"I want you to Turn me," I answered over Ginevra's wails. I struggled to keep my voice even as I added,”Please."

Ginevra cried out negatively again, whether the response was to me or to her brother's actions, I don't know.

"Not good enough, Traitor, not nearly." Greyback turned his attention to Frederick, who resumed his fumbling attempts at arousal. "Get on with it, boy. I always wanted to watch two gingers go at it. I always wondered if what they say about them is true."

"No!" I cried, my voice hoarse as I glanced down at Ginevra. "I am begging you. Please, turn me. I want to become... like you."

"What?" Greyback stayed Frederick again. "What is it you want to become, Traitor?"

"Please, turn me into a werewolf. I desire it." I answered. My shaking legs gave out and fell to the cobbles, my hands up in a gesture of supplication. "Please, M-master, if you have any decency in you... I will give you what you want. I am begging you, please stop this madness."

Greyback strode to me, letting the Imperius curse lapse. Fredrick scrambled to his feet and away from his mother. Molly and Ginevra's sobs were the only sound in the square.

"Very well, Snape. I'll call it off." He leaned down and pulled my head back by my hair. He kissed me in a mocking parody of tenderness. "I knew I could break you."

He nipped at my lips and then licked the dried blood from them. "You are so sweet in your capitulation."

He turned his attention to Frederick and Molly. "Move the old cunt and her son to the jail. I want them in the same cell. It's time Mummy found out what her little boy does on full moon nights."

Two of the whip-wielding brutes took hold of Frederick's arm, and a female from the kitchens rushed forward to Molly, Tilda the overseer, if I remember correctly. As one of the guards barked an order at the woman, I saw the fleeting look of hatred that Frederick directed at Greyback, and the way he flinched when Molly tried to reach for him. We would all bear our own scars from this day.

Greyback then released Ginevra from her chains. "Take this one to that Muggle Healer so he can bandage her wounds, and then bring her to the holding cell. I want her to see me Turn her lover and know that it's me that fucked him into submission."

Greyback turned back to me, his yellow eyes unblinking as he growled,”You're mine now, Traitor. I'm going to make sure you never forget that."

He drew back and kicked me fully in the groin. I doubled over in the agony that only a man who has been thus injured can know. I retched as Greyback guffawed.
&*&*&


I was moved to the cell fitted for my rapes and given a bucket in which to wash the filth of the week off me. I gulped the water, sloshing it down my chin. The reluctant young guard cautioned me, “Oi, don't drink so much. Your gut will cramp and you'll lose it all."

I continued guzzling the water, unheedful of the man's words. We had been fed and given water only once during the ordeal, just enough to keep us alive and no more. He pulled the bucket from my hands and leaned down, ostensibly to sluice the water over my body. His demeanour changed, and he lost the vacant look of brutality as he said, “M'name's Barrett. You and that girl saved my daughter's life, so I'm going to give you a word of encouragement. Once you're turned, you don't have to be like him."

I broke then, the aching tears spilled unheeded down my face, mixing with the filthy water running down my body. I covered my face with my hands, gouging at my skin with my filth-encrusted nails, as if to tear the taint of the past days from my body. I had reached the end of my endurance and thought that by morning I would be mad.

The man straightened from his crouch and paced to the closed door. He opened it and the turned to me. "It isn't so bad, being a werewolf. I've been one since I was ten, and I haven't ever killed a human. I Turned a few, to be sure, but I never killed them."

His open face rippled, the muscles contorting under his skin, the bones elongating, then they morphed back. "It's almost time. I need to chain you up."

I turned away from his sympathetic scrutiny, unable to bear the weight of it. He exited, leaving me to the contemplation of the coming night.

&*&*&

As the sun sank lower in the sky, Ginevra was ushered into the room by the Muggle physician and a mousy older woman in a worn mediwitch uniform. Ginevra's head lolled on her neck and she did not stir as they positioned her on the bed in the corner. The female placed chains on her wrists and feet and then cinched a heavy leather restraint around her waist. The Muggle attempted to appear impassive, but the tick beside his eye belied his calm. When the mediwitch was finished she turned to me, a look of fleeting pity crossing her brow before she collected herself and bustled about me, administering diagnostic spells and making herself a general nuisance.

"What have you done to her?" I demanded, hoping that whatever it was would let her merely slip from this world before she, too, was changed.

The physician winced when I spoke, but answered in a steady voice, "I've given her some sedatives. She needs rest and time to recuperate."

"We'd best be going, Doctor," the mediwitch said, as she cast several minor healing spells over my abrasions. She glanced nervously at the door and then back at me before saying, "I will say a prayer for you both, Professor."

She gathered her robes about her as if to shield herself from the despair leeching into the room, and they exited.

I scooted across the floor to the end of my tethers, and was just able to touch Ginevra's hair, which was still dark with blood and other purgatives. She stirred, and then jerked awake with a hastily muffled oath.

"Snape," she whispered as her tears pooled in the hollows under her eyes. "I thought I told you I could handle it."

"And your mother and Frederick, could they have done the same?" I was too tired and overwrought to react, as I normally would have to her mild-toned rebuke.

Her chin wobbled, and then she collected herself with that same inner strength that she had used after the Final Battle. “I'm sorry. If I had left you alone..."

We heard the Greyback's falsely hale voice from down the hall. Ginevra stretched and was just able to kiss my shaking fingertips. I burned with the awareness of her strength and grace once again.

"I love you, Severus," she said. "No matter what happens tonight, I want you to remember that."

The door swung open before I could respond in kind. Greyback entered and sneered, "Isn't that just sweet, the Traitor and his ickle whore. Let's get this show started, shall we?"

&*&*&

I remember little of that night. The snatches of memory I do have were crystalline in their clarity as the horror of my transformation from human to beast overtook me. I remember Greyback entering me as he normally did, his foul breath on my back. I remember Ginevra's screams as I was bitten. I remember the pain, unlike any agony I had ever experienced before or since.

When the morning light came, Greyback was lounging on the bed next to Ginevra, leering at her supine body. She appeared dead, so still was she as he placed his vile mouth on her and violated her with his hands. The flutter of her pulse at her throat kept me from tearing madly at my bonds, or opening my veins with my own teeth. She lived and that was all that mattered. The wolf in me, no longer nascent, surged to the fore, ready to fight the interloper who dared touch his mate. I quelled the surge of rage, but only barely. Greyback pinched Ginevra's pale flesh, brutally thrusting his fingers against her throat, choking the bright life from her. Her eyes flew open, and as he throttled her, she looked at me without the reproach I deserved. I had been a selfish bastard, partaking of her body to fill my own needs, not mindful of the dangers around us.

I screamed, the rage at myself and at the monster on Ginevra’s bed held at bay only tenuously, broke loose, and as I jerked against my bonds, Greyback laughed then let up. "Don't worry, Traitor, your little whore will provide me more amusement tonight. I just wanted to mark her to see what kind of a wolf you will be."

Ginevra took a shuddering breath as I spat, "And, what is your expert opinion?"

Greyback laughed and bounded from the bed, his grey hair flowing like shadows and smoke over Ginevra's body. He stood before me, his foetid flesh still reeking of my blood and shit. "You will bear watching, Traitor, just as you always have."

He unlocked my chains, letting them fall from his hands with a jingling clatter. "Tend to the little whore. You'll want her well for this evening."

Greyback swept from the room, the strange hitch in his walk now explained by the gaping hole that a Muggle bullet had caused. No doubt Borowiec and Bruno had grown tired of waiting for Malfoy to get all his ducks in rows.

Once the door shut, I crawled to Ginevra's side and began checking her for more recent injuries. I cast the weak diagnostic spell over her, the blue light washing over her moon pale skin, darting over the freckles that I had kissed only days before. I gathered what magics I could from the air, earth, and water that surrounded us, and I cast the Healing Charms that Poppy had taught me as a boy, when she tired of treating my injuries at the hands of the Gryffindor idiots.

Ginevra watched me as I had her on the night at Malfoy Manor, a lifetime ago, her gaze unreadable as I finished what meagre healing that I might.

Dreading the answer I might receive, I asked, "Did he... violate you last evening? Are you Turned?"

"No." Her dull answer alarmed me. I gathered her in my arms, awkwardly, as her fetters still bound her to the bed. She clutched at me spasmodically, the chains biting into my flesh as she did. It was a pain I could bear, as long as her flesh touched mine.

With a sobbing hitch of her breath, she continued. "He said... He said that would be your job tonight."


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