Of Death and Fire

goddess


Author's war: An: And yes, it gets darker. Sexual content, although nothing graphic. This does not apply to the horror, however. This is kind of graphic. If you find any of this disturbing, go read a Mary Sue story.
I repeat: Before reading this chapter, remember we are dealing with Voldemort and Death Eaters. Those guys haven't been helping old ladies cross the street. What they would possibly oingoing is rape, torture, murder. And not necessarily in that order.
Additional notes: Snape is redeemed in this chapter. Well, kind of. I'm making up for all of you who were disturbed by his behaviour in the last chapter. Don't expect much though. Catharsis will be granted in the last chapter.
 
 
CHAPTER 37: To my Dark Lord, a Goddess.
 
She hasn't come. She won't come.
It's really over.
It had been five days since that fateful night. Severus Snape was lying on his bed facing the ceiling. There hadn't been a moment he hadn't cursed himself for losing his control. He would gladly sacrifice a limb to take it all back, but it was too late. It had taken him years to put his violent urges under a leash and in a blink of an eye he had snapped. He had been such a fool, believing he would be able to resist the mesmerising gaze of the Dark Lord. He had danced in his tune as if he was a foolish boy once more.
He raised the bottle to his lips, but his hand wasn't following instructions correctly. Half of the emerald liquid ended on his face and neck instead of his mouth, but he didn't care. He remained there, motionless, facing the shadows dancing above him. If he could see himself, he wouldn't recognise the creature he had become. His hair fell on the dirty pillow even greasier than usual, stained by suspicious dried fluids. His eyes were dark and sunken, his face yellow and unshaven. He had thrown away his shirt somewhere in his dungeon, kicked off his shoes but was unable to gain the finger co-ordination to take his pants off as well. And so he laid there, staring at the empty space, sticking of alcohol and sour sweat, sinking deeper in his own hell.
Sometime later he passed out.
And then she came.
She came like sunlight in the deepest night, purging his sin with her fire. He tried to put his arms around her, but he was unable to move. He tried to whisper "Forgive me, I love you", but all that left his lips was an incoherent mumbling. The wormwood had taken itll. ll. But she didn't seem to mind. She kissed his cracked lips and it filled him with a bliss that no potion could duplicate. She took him in her arms, unaffected of the stench of sweat and urine on his body. She never even frowned when she found out that the absinthe had taken its toll with his manhood too. Instead she tied her arms around him and for the first time in days he slept in peace.
When he woke up, hours latere wae was gone. The cabinet where he kept the most dangerous potions had been torn open and the one made by her blood was missing.
She had left him. She had put him to sleep and left him.
She had gone to Him.
~*~
Morgaine knelt before the Dark Lord, giving him the potion. He held the vial against the candlelight, studying the crimson liquid inside.
"How do I know this is not poison?" he asked.
"I will drink from it, if you wish it," she replied. "It has no effects on females, anyway," she lied. She knew first-hand it had effect on her.
"Yes, so I'm told," he said. Reaching a decision, he pushed back her head and allowed one drop to fall through her lips. When nothing seemed to happen, he took one drop himself. Almost instantly, he felt the power rising. He knelt beside her and touched her face.
"Do you find this form repulsive?" he whispered.
"It doesn't matter," she replied softly. "I can see beyond the surface." But she knew it mattered. It mattered to him and his ego.
Using the potion's powers, he altered reality to his will. He stood before her in the form of the young man he had once been, in the form of Tom Riddle. Young and beautiful, like a fallen angel.
"Does this form please you more?" he asked.
She did not reply. She took his face in her hands and kissed him. As the kiss became more demanding, reality shifted once more.
They were no longer at the dark crypt but in a meadow bursting with life. It was covered by soft, scented grass, littered with delicate flowers, the air filled with the fragrant smell of honey. It was calm and peaceful, like Eden before the Fall. He stood beside her, a stunning creature in the sunlight. Both were naked, alone in this secret garden. He laid her down on the grass and kissed her again, making love to her on the sweet smelling ground. Morgaine felt a warm sensation taking over her body, leading her away, where she longed to be.
And then reality changed again. This was not Eden. This was Armageddon. They were still making love, but they were no longer in the peaceful garden. They were in a nameless city, a city under attack. Morgaine saw fire falling from the sky. She felt the hood of a burned car under her. She could hear the screams around her, sounds of pain and torture. She could smell the smoke and the blood, and as she turned her head sideways, she saw a woman running. A masked man came behind her, raising his wand and casting the Unforgivable. The woman fell lifeless, her eyes wide open, facing Morgaine. Voldemort, still inside her, pushed harder. And reality changed once more.
Morgaine found herself on top of the teachers' table in Hogwarts' Main Hall. The Dark Lord was still on top of her, kissing her gently like a shy lover. She looked around her and she saw Purgatory. The floor was littered with countless bloodied bodies, mutilated beyond recognition. In the middle of the room stood a cross. An inverted cross and Dumbledore's lifeless body was upon it. As his slit throat smiled back at her, her eyes filled with tears. But then he kissed her again and she surrendered to his touch.
When she opened her eyes, she faced another realm. She found herself in Hell. The scent of sulphur filled the air, her eyes gazing at a blood red sky above her. Under her back, she felt a pile of corpses. She felt the bones of scorched corpses stinging her flesh, ashes and blood staining her skin. As she felt her climax approaching, her hand grasped the remains of a human skull, her fingers penetrating the empty sockets of a dead human. She screamed and tied her legs tighter around his waist.
When she opened her eyes again, spent by the experience, they were back at the crypt. He pulled out of her, still hard, not having yet reached his release. His face was still this of a young man, but his eyes were cold. He pulled her up to her feet, making face him.
"Will you walk with me?" he asked. "Will you kill for me?" he demanded.
Her will was now his own. Breathless, she replied "yes".
"During the next meeting, I will demand a sacrifice from you. Will you do it?" he asked again.
"Yes!" she replied again and he smiled seeing her falling to her knees to receive his blessing.
She is now mine, he thought with delight.
And all of the world will bleed in our passing.
 
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 I'll be taking your bets now. Who do you think the sacrificial goat will be? Please post your choices in a review form. Please justify your answers.
Winner gets a week with my cats. (This should get you running ...at the exact opposite direction).
If it makes any difference, I already know who the sacrifice will be. You can't change my mind, but I'd like to see what you people think.
 
Well? A review? I'm getting edgy here....