Life in an Alien Land 2: The Werewolf Chronicles

Thanks to Jilliane for beta-reading this chapter.

Chapter 2: The Prince's Tale

I survived the bite of the Dark Lord’s vile snake through a series of rather unfortunate circumstances and the interference of one meddling bird, sent by an equally obtrusive old man. I won’t go into detail as to how Albus Dumbledore and fate conspired against me as I spoke with Lily, beyond that veil that lies between the living and the dead; I was ripped rather viciously back to the living.

I had always hated Albus’ interference; and I cursed him for the fool he was as I lay gasping and mired in copious amounts of shit, urine and blood. I had allowed the very same blood to flow from my veins, bathing the floor in crimson. I was not supposed to be alive. For Merlins’ sake, I am a Potions Master and a veteran spy; did he not think for one moment that I knew this was coming and chose my fate for the first time in twenty years?

What made him think life was a gift for me? What transcendent hubris gave him the audacity to bestow upon me the very thing of which I begged to be relieved that Halloween night all those years ago?

After processing the fact that I was once more denied what I desired, I dragged myself to the window, wishing I had the foresight to bring Strengthening Solution with me, knowing Albus’ love for infringement as I did.

I heard the battle raging, I heard Potter blathering on about my true allegiance, I saw the boy, her boy, fall under the Dark Lord’s greater skill. I watched in horror as the children I had fought so hard to protect from the depravity of my putative brethren were raped, tortured and killed indiscriminately. During the night I sneaked out of the stinking shack, site of so many of my nightmarish memories, wondering at my own will to survive, given my recent desire to die.

I spent several months in the Muggle world, and was confident in my ability to elude capture simply because most Purebloods would never know how to look for me there. As I enumerated my sins, murderer, conniver, spy, traitor, I could now add coward. I had watched them kill and rape in the name of purity and let them do it.

There was never a thought in my mind to live to fight another day. I had had enough of fighting the good fight. I simply desired to survive, eke out a living, fuck an available warm body and exist. In that existence, my desire for Lily was burned from me. Had I been such a fool to commit myself to a path that would lead to this eating out of rubbish bins and sleeping in convenient holes? Was I even a man?

The Seekers found me. How could I have forgotten that the Dark Lord was essentially a Muggleborn, with his half-blood past and mean, pauper’s upbringing? They brought me before him at the seat of his new throne, Riddle Manor, and I trembled, duly impressed by his roach-like ability to survive Albus Dumbledore’s ante-mortem machinations.. My former Master’s favourite pet, Bellatrix, amused herself with my torture while he deliberated my fate with his new right-hand, Lucius Malfoy. I noted the absence of Narcissa and the mad quality of Lucius’ spoiled son, and began to piece together the last months. As Lucius counselled against my immediate execution, I began to see that not all was well in the land of my enemy. The Dark Lord had control at the moment, but Lucius was going to make a grab for power in the future. I would be needed to solidify Malfoy’s position with the Order’s scattered factions, given Potter’s propensity to regurgitate all he knew, especially about me. I blessed the poor dead boy for that trait now, just as I had cursed him before.

I was, between bouts of torture, secured in the newly fitted dungeons of the Royal seat. Lucius stole down to see me. “Snape, we only have a moment, listen well... If you want to survive the next months, give in. Do not be stoic. Let them see your pain.”

He cast Crucio and I gave a hoarse-voiced cry. I taunted as he withdrew the curse, “Is that the only magic you can perform now, Lucius?”

He slashed me with Sectumsempra and I watched in horror as my chest and gut opened. He hissed, “I never thought you thick-witted, Severus, give in to me.”

Another flick, and my body twitched in an agonising spasm of mirth, causing the cut on my chest to deepen. I screamed obscenities hoarsely. More curses and I was sobbing for relief, my defiance bleeding out through my belly. Lucius entered my cell and healed my cuts. He knelt beside my jerking body and whispered, “Remember, give in. Your life depends on it.”

He left and that was the last I saw of him for months.

I languished in the dungeons for several months, being fed and watered at indifferent intervals by low-ranking Death Eater drudges. I eliminated in one corner, slept in another, and survived the boredom of the featureless incarceration in my own mind. Bella no longer amused herself with my body as I had taken Lucius’ lesson to heart and gave in to the torture immediately when she administered it. She discarded me like a broken toy.

I was jerked out of my bored torpor by the voice of the one creature I feared in the Dark Lord’s service.

Greyback.

He came to me days after the full moon, his snapping eyes wandering over my gaunt frame, which was now clothed only in rags. He barked his laughter at me being brought so low. The only thing that preserved my sanity in the weeks that followed as he visited was the fact that he remained firmly on the other side of the cell door. He visited daily except for the two days of the full moon.

That was to change.

I was taken from my cell and bathed by a broken house-elf who muttered nonsensical phrases and carried himself as if he were drunk on Butterbeer. I surmised his condition was due to damage to his magical core, not intoxication, and I wished I could at least brew the thing a stealthy poison. It would not take much to release the creature from his misery. I was struck by the thought that I, once more, was only as good as my ability to murder. It made me ill.

The creature in its shambling, hitching way, prepared me as best it could. It stripped the rags that clothed me, scrubbed the layers of filth from my hair and body, and rubbed healing creams into my skin. I suffered its attentions with a sense of foreboding. The Dark Lord had something truly horrendous in mind to pamper me so.

Greyback continued to haunt me with his presence outside my door.

I was left in the room, a small garret with a window facing the town of Little Hangleton. I was fed, given clothing, and allowed to read. My unease increased exponentially as the days wore on. On the twenty-eighth day of my more benevolent captivity, two guards that I recognised from my sojourn in the dungeons replaced the broken elf. They stripped me of my clothing, placed an iron collar around my neck that was then chained to an iron ring before me, then they bound my body by both chains and magic to the floor.

Until that point, I had followed Lucius’ advice half-heartedly, giving in to the torture when it was administered properly. As I lay prone on the floor of that room, chained so that my legs were contracted under me and my buttocks were in the air, I knew what was coming. Or thought I did, until Greyback entered.

He watched me as I struggled to free myself, my terror clanging in my blood, metallic in my mouth. The sun went down and the moon rose up, her face full and vivid in the sky. Greyback began to change and I lost all control of my body. This was not the death that I had imagined, or would even wish on an enemy. I jerked until my arms were bloodied, trying to avoid the creature’s slavering jaws. I whimpered as it approached me, and I went mad as it mounted and then penetrated me in animal form.

Greyback raped me once, careful not to draw any blood from my body except the crimson that coated his cock. His fur on my back, his paws by my head, and his soft grunting growls became my existence. His hot, moist snout nuzzled my neck in a parody of the act of love. He took me again, mounting me with more animal pleasure as I screamed. His spunk bathed my interior and began leaking out, and still he took me.

At some point in that hell, I lost my voice along with consciousness. I was jerked back from the darkness as I felt the first agonising explosion of the Cruciatus Curse rip through me. The wolf padded back and forth, growling in soft chuffing bursts; his laughter. The curse was lifted and I heard Bellatrix’s mad cackle from beyond the door as the wolf mounted me again.

I survived the night but just barely. The house-elf was allowed back in to care for me and I was given strong Healing potions. Nothing would heal my mind, however, and I sank to the floor in a heap of disintegrated personality and soul.

Greyback took me again the next night and the healing process began again. I roused only to painful stimulus, suffered through each day, dreading the cycle of the moon.

The next month, Greyback taunted me with the sure knowledge that I would turn when he wanted me to. He told me how he had taken children in the past and fucked them but never bit them. Their infection was gradual because he had attacked with only his cock. His boastful reminiscences made me wonder about pale Lupin and his wan imitation of a werewolf. Was this how Greyback had turned him?

It was just that intellectual curiosity that pulled me from complete capitulation to madness. That, and the desire to destroy Greyback in every way possible. I began to dream of the ways I would torture him as he buggered me to insensibility. I became what Lucius and Greyback wanted, at least to the eye. Inside, I vowed revenge with the rabid hatred of the thoroughly insane.

The day came when the Dark Lord finally bestowed upon Greyback what he wanted. I heard the two guards saying the werewolf had been ceded East Anglia, a particularly ironic concession given that area’s history. Boudicca’s ancestors would have a new occupying army to defeat, this one not so pragmatic as the Roman’s approach to governing, but equally brutal.

Greyback collected me for the journey. He treated a collection of Death Eaters to a revel of his own devising which included my flogging and then another rape, this time with him only half-transformed. I cried out, knowing it would do no good, but trying to convince the beast that he had broken me to his will. The jeers of the collected Death Eaters were like ground glass in my ears. All of them at one point had remarked on my inability to join in the revels. I had done this so that I might, in the end, say that I had never added rape to my list of crimes.

Greyback was ever the fool for his King and he performed in an admirably disgusting way, reaming me until I bled once more. The Dark Lord watched from his mouldering throne, his anguiform features coldly assessing. As Greyback finished, the Dark Lord directed me to stand before him. I did as he said, the contemptible wolf’s essence seeping from between my cheeks and my cock flaccid. At no point in Greyback’s assault was I ever stimulated by his intrusion.

“What a bad boy you were Ssseverus, when you deceived me.” He clucked in an almost indulgent fashion. I flinched at the sound of that high, cold voice. I had forgotten how dead it sounded. “We can’t have your willful disssobedience go unpunissshed, can we, my dear boy?

He continued after a theatrical flick of his pale fingers over immaculate robes, “I think... I sssshall make a gift of you to Greyback. Perhapsss he can make you behave like a good dog. “

Greyback smirked and bowed in a courtly fashion. “I shall endeavour to fullfil your wishes, My Lord.”

The Dark Lord gave a contemptuous sniff, as if he doubted the beast had the self-control to do as he was told. Greyback took a step back, his features smooth except for the twitching of his jaw muscles. “I don’t want him killed, Greyback. He needsss to be made an example in a mossst public way. Turn him as you turned that child. You know, by violating him. I ssshall require regular reportsss, and make them quite detailed. I do ssso enjoy how you sssport with your prey.”

The Dark Lord waved laconically toward the crowd. “As the Traitor has proven to be a Phoenix in Death Eater’s clothing, I ssshall require a certain indemnity clause, so to speak, to ensssure the Traitor’sss continued compliance with my wissshesss. Lucius, you knew the Traitor best, you shall do the honours.”

I felt the brush of a Death Eater’s robes against my leg and noticed Lucius’ sneering presence by my side.

The Dark Lord instructed Lucius in an undertone, and when my former friend turned to me, I could see his gloating smirk behind his mask. He lifted his wand and cast a series of spells designed to take away my ability to flee, relieve me of free will, and bind me to the first person to touch me. These were common elements of a Slavery Spell and the only way to ensure my continued compliance to Greyback’s tender mercies. As the spells washed over me, I could sense the wrongness of them. Lucius had miscast all but the last and I wondered that the Dark Lord did not cast them himself to ensure their proper administration. I gasped as if in pain, the usual reaction to those types of Dark magic.

Lucius brushed past me, touching my leg with his fingertip in the fleeting moment before Greyback claimed me. I remembered seeing the effects of this spell enacted on a Muggle woman bound to Dolohov and I aped them. I had been bound to Lucius, for good or ill. I watched his figure retreat and then saw his slight nod, his tacit approval for me to accompany Greyback to my new home. I wondered what his game might be. Was this his form of punishment to me for his loss of Narcissa? Did he have more ambitious plans that required my absence? I knew Lucius to be a schemer, and thus knew he was aware of the failure of the spells.

The wolf fitted an iron collar around my neck and snapped a leash to the ring fashioned on the hated device. Greyback bowed to the Dark Lord and strode away, and with a tug to my leash, I followed.

To my surprise, Greyback allowed me to dress in soft, dark robes of fine wool. He fitted me with thick leather boots from the stores of plunder, and gave me a thick woollen cape fitted with Impervius Charms and Warming Charms. He looked at me as I took the sundries. I asked in the dull manner of the newly enslaved, “May I dress, Master?”

Oh, those words boiled my blood as I stated them, but to preserve my somewhat puzzling former friend’s life and my own, I intoned them with the proper deferential inflection and downcast eyes. Greyback gave a bark of laughter. “You don’t fool me, Traitor. I know Malfoy fucked things up for me. I saw him touch you.”

Greyback drew nearer, his foul breath on my cheek. “I don’t mind. If Malfoy wants you, he can have you.”

I barely resisted the urge to flinch as the werewolf licked my gaunt cheek and then bit it, drawing blood. “Once I’m through with you, though, I’m not too sure he’ll want you.”

Greyback snaked his hand into my hair, his fingernails sharp against my scalp and he pulled my head back. He kissed me sweetly and for the first time I roused to his touch. I damned my body and willed my cock to quiescence as Greyback moved his hand down my stiff belly, his rough hands skimming over the taut flesh. He grasped my stiffening member, manipulating it with the practiced touch of a whore as he continued his embrace, and I moaned into his mouth. I was a man starved for tender touch. I had been most of my life.

Greyback drew back and backhanded me across the cheek. I reeled from the force of the blow and felt blood flow from my lip. The werewolf licked the ruby liquid from his fingers.

“You taste sweet, Traitor. I can only imagine the feast you will provide me.” He yanked on the leash with a savage motion and ordered, “Get dressed. We have a long road to travel. Most in my pack don’t use wands, so we’ll be using less conventional means of transportation.”

I had always wondered how many Muggles Greyback had turned. I supposed I would soon find out.

I dressed with shaking hands, fumbling with the buttons of the robes under Greyback’s baleful glare. I sat to pull on my shoes, wondering if I might be able to ask for socks. I decided against the idea, but Greyback had seen me hesitate, and threw a pair of heavy cotton socks to me.

“Can’t have you slowing us down,” he sneered.

I donned the items hastily then stood before he could give another vicious tug to the tether. We exited the Manor house, and I followed him down the weed-choked path through the ornate and rusty gates. I saw his pack, grown since the war days from a group of fifty or so, to over three hundred. They were arranged in small clusters; some appeared to be grouped by family, while others gambled or chatted up the odd single female in the falling coolness of the evening. I was sickened to see so many children in their midst.

“I didn’t turn all the children, Traitor.” Greyback said derisively. “A man can only deny himself so much, before he must sit down to a good nosh on veal.”

He laughed again, the yapping sound of his genus. Greyback gave my tether to his lieutenant from the old days, Dusun Boroweic, a Czech who attended Durmstrang until he was infected. I knew him only by reputation. I had heard he had fallen out of favour because he balked at the carnage wrought on the dying bodies of the Order and the students at the Battle of Hogwarts. I concluded my intelligence must have been in error.

Greyback gave a barking cry and the assembled group turned to him expectantly. He shouted so that all could hear, “Brothers, I bring to you a token of the Dark Lord’s pleasure. “

With a gesture to Boroweic, my leash was handed back to the Dark Lord’s favourite canid and I was jerked forward. I fell, landing on my hands and knees before Greyback. He smirked and placed a booted foot on my back, grinding the heel into my spine with vicious force. “This thing under my heel is the Traitor Snape. He is for me alone. I have marked him as mine. He is to be called by what he is. Traitor.”

I peered out at the crowd, wondering how many of these people I had taught, how many would want their own petty revenge on my person before I died.

I spied a familiar face, a heavily scarred young woman with curly, brown hair. She might have been pretty once in an unremarkable way. She turned her gaze to mine. her brown eyes intent and glittering, and then returned her attention to Greyback.

“The Dark Lord has ceded East Anglia to us. We have a homeland!”

His voice rose to a hoarse cry of jubilation as the assembled creatures joined his exultation. My eyes returned to the brown haired girl who remained silent, along with a few others who watched the perimeter vigilantly. She narrowed her eyes and the expression jogged my memory. She was the girl I had caught snogging Percy Weasley, a Ravenclaw called Penelope Clearwater. The girl had been rather ruthless in her pursuit of grades. I thought she would bear watching.

I was handed back into Borowiec’s care, and without further ceremony, the tribe began its trek from Yorkshire to East Anglia.

One of the Newly Made was a Yank, a serviceman who had been caught out by a hungry pack. The Yank had barely survived, but was deemed worth the effort to save when he was able to procure certain invaluable items for the pack.

We walked for hours before halting at a large abandoned barn. My limbs shook from the sudden exertion after my months of captivity. Boroweic let me rest as other pack members began labouring in the cavernous building. I remained silent, but the larger man spoke to me in a hushed tone, “I hear you’re to become one of us.”

I nodded, unable to give voice to an answer that did not ring with fear and disgust. Boroweic watched the activity of the others, and then said, “You know Greyback.”

“Yes.” I managed.

“He’s got his orders,” the Czech said. “I’ve got mine.”

I heard an engine roar to life and Boroweic motioned me up. “We’ll be stopping in the morning. I’ll see what I can do about food for you.”

I followed him on the slack lead, grateful for his reserved kindness.

Thus began my life in the wolf pack as Greyback’s bitch, and Malfoy’s slave.



AN: Boudicca was the queen of the Iceni tribe in East Anglia that rose against Roman rule after her husband’s will was ignored, her daughters raped (anecdotal only) and she was flogged. She led the greatest and last uprising against Roman rule in Britain.

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