Devils and Angels

For Nobody Cares for Thee


The street named Spinner’s End was aptly named so in the early 19th century during the time when the factory was a textile mill. Even though cotton and spun goods was a driving force in that era, life was still difficult at best, and quite harsh if one didn’t have the good sense to make the most of it. Thus the soberness of attitude sprang up and flourished in its own right, and became a cultural cornerstone: It just didn’t do to be frivolous with one’s comportment when faced with so much to bear. Care-worn men that were torn between work and want when the textile industry declined in the 1960’s moved their families to other parts in search of a better life. Yet the Snape’s remained where they were, the neighbourhood around them becoming less populated and falling into eventual neglect. Since the wealthy old patriarch Ezra Snape, refused to have anything more to do with his drunkard of a son after that one horrid visit – there was no place else to go.

Being from, and reared in the industrial North-western burough of Manchester, and added to that the fact of an extremely emotionally prohibitive childhood did not mean the dark man that stared out into the morning mists had no feelings. It only meant that the man had been taught from his earliest years not to show emotion, that famous taciturnity of his was culturally ingrained, and even more so instilled in him by his father’s brutal fist as well. It had been many long, and lonely years since he had someone that cared for him, his mother had been the first, and Harry had been the last. Of that last, the brooding wizard was not so sure any longer, yet he had a hunger to find out one way or the other.

In his youth, unbeknownst to his housemates, he had grieved mightily for his mother for he had effectively hid his feelings, and that period was the birth of his alleged cold-hearted reputation. In his maturity, and not even expecting it to happen, he had paired with Harry and it had been the brightest moment of his life. Yet, no one had been able to tell simply because he did not go about with a ridiculously cheery attitude and a smile on his lips.

His self-introspection was broken when he felt eyes upon him, “Awake this early Lucius? I believed you would have succumbed to sleep avoidance, and slept the day away – I see that I was mistaken.”

“On the contrary, I would have missed the way your lovely face looks in the morning light had I done so,” Malfoy drawled sarcastically as he swaggered into the sitting room.

Crossing his arms and shifting his weight slightly, Snape silently sneered at his own reflection in the highly polished glass.

Sprawling into the nearest overly stuffed chair, the pale wizard asked, “Have you eaten yet?”

“No.”

“Shall I have something sent up then?”

“No.”

“Can I have my way with you?”

“No.”

“Figures,” Lucius rolled his eyes and leaned his head against the soft velvety fabric of the chair.

His back still turned to Malfoy; Severus spoke, “Last night you said you would help me obtain that which I seek. Just what do you think I am looking for, and why would you help me?”

“My, my. Still the sceptic I see.”

“Lucius…” Snape’s voice was dangerously low, clearly indicating he was not to be toyed with in the least.

“All right my dour and apparently never-to-be-again lover; I shall tell you. You are seeking evidence and absolution, which are two things that are diametrically opposed to one another, and you seek to regain who you deem to be the love of your life. Am I correct?”

Receiving nothing in response except a continued view of Snape’s black-clad back, Lucius continued, “As for the why, it would benefit me greatly to undo a most terrible wrong.”

“In other words, you would get a slap on the wrist and time already served should you render assistance to the Cause, and of course the Cause would receive a considerable donation to the war effort.”

“Exactly – I’m not stupid, and I will do almost anything in order to make that come about.”

“Almost,” Snape sneered once more as he turned to face Malfoy.

“As you well know, I’m not very popular with the Dark Lord at the moment, and it would be foolhardy of me to believe him to be in the least bit forgiving in nature, so it is just a matter of choosing the lesser of two evils. Surely, you of all people would understand my dilemma better than anyone else.”

“Unfortunately I do, but that still doesn’t tell me how you plan on accomplishing this.”

“I happen to know that you were not at the Hall of Whispers just for a lark, and I also know you were looking for something left behind by Dumbledore – something that would save your skin, and that something has went missing. Missing not by accident, of that I’m quite sure,” Malfoy looked up at Snape with piercing pale eyes.

“Not only would it save my skin, as you so eloquently stated, but it would save your son from a very long stint in Azkaban as well. It would ensure the Malfoy name to continue,” Snape pointed out.

“Precisely, but first and foremost we have to find out just who it is that has removed the evidence we need.”

“Yes, that we do. It would behove us to consider who would profit the most from our imprisonment, and possible execution, should we not recover what was stolen.”

“That could prove to be a formidable task, Severus. You and I have many enemies, both within the Dark Lord’s ranks, and without,” Lucius rose from his chair, and crossed the room to stand closely in front of the dark wizard. He reached up a finely manicured hand, and caressed the face before him. “What a team we could have made together, Severus – you and I. We would have been unstoppable.”

“Possibly, but that is wishful thinking Lucius.”

He leaned in and gently kissed the sculpted lips that still continued to tantalize him. Pulling back, his eyes half lidded, he spoke huskily, “Severus…please.”

“You don’t give up, do you? What part of no do you not understand? The N, or the O?” Snape questioned scathingly.

Malfoy shut his eyes, his jaw set as he spoke through clenched teeth. “It has been three years since I have been with anyone, and I’m about to go mad.”

“Then I suggest you lock yourself in your bedchamber and take care of the situation.”

“I have! It’s not the same. I need to feel another’s body against mine. Do you want me to beg Severus? Shall I get down on my knees? Is that what you want? To see me beg?”

Severus stared at the man before him. All pretence and guile had disappeared, and Malfoy stood before him in the obvious physical agony of long denied sexual need, and naked emotional pain.

“I swear on my magic, I will never ask you again as long as I live, and I will never speak a word of it to anyone,” Lucius’ voice held a desperate edge to it, and he dropped his head, his hands balled tightly into fists by his side. “Let me be with you Severus, even if it is out of pity on your part – please.”

Silence hung heavily in the air like a thick smothering blanket, until Snape banished it after a few moments thought, “I will help you this one time and out of pity as you say – one time only.” He held his finger up to emphasize his point then resumed speaking, “Be warned though – you break your oath, and approach me again, or Harry finds out: I will hunt you down, and make no doubt about it, you will be begging for forgiveness with your last breath.”

Malfoy couldn’t believe what his ears had just told him, and he stared incredulously with his mouth open at the scowling wizard. He started slightly when Snape suddenly reached up and shut it for him.

Severus began to disrobe in front of him; he looked up at Lucius, who was still gaping at him. “What?”

“You don’t mean here?”

“Here.”

“But the bedchamber is…” Lucius waved his elegant hand in that direction.

Past caring how vulgar he would sound, Snape swiftly interrupted him “Too private and far too intimate – there is a difference after all, between a pity fuck and making love,” he dropped his robes, clothing and finally his undergarments to the floor.

With a strangled moan, and acting before the other wizard could possibly change his mind, Lucius whipped off his clothing and whirled Snape around until he had him bent over the secretary that stood next to the window. Summoning lubricant, he began to hurriedly prepare the rosette presented to him, while Snape lay face down, his mind already detached and in another place and another when. Sensing this lack of interest radiating in waves from Snape, Malfoy continued his preparations anyway. Positioning himself against, and about to breach Snape’s now glistening entrance, realization flooded over him, and he watched in dismay as his once proud and eager erection began to slowly deflate to finally hang limply, and defeated between his legs. Groaning softly in frustration, he laid his forehead between Severus’ shoulders as he rested his weight upon the heels of his hands on the desk.

Speaking against Snape’s back he hissed, “Goddamnit! You knew this was going to happen if you gave in, didn’t you?”

“Yes.”

“Of all the…”

“You don’t really want, or need me Lucius. All the effort you are expending trying to bed me should be put to use on getting your wife back.”

“Goddamnit!”

“You know Lucius, cursing really does not suit you.”

Face reddening, Malfoy none too gracefully pushed himself away from the man as he swiftly snatched his clothing from the floor and said as he flung his long pale hair back from his eyes, “Perhaps, but she doesn’t care for me now - no one does, and I see attempting to win her back as a lost cause. Sadly you may discover that as well - no matter how many times you prove yourself to the Ministry, or to him.” He stalked back, with as much grace as he could muster given the situation, into the bedchamber and heartily slammed the door leaving Snape behind to ponder that last statement as he quietly dressed.