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

Chapter 38 ~ A Bit of Caution Prescribed


Elizabeth Yaxley read the parchment of competition rules with a frown.

“No Unforgivables? Shit,” she breathed.

The blonde, blue-eyed witch took a sip of wine then placed the glass back down on the small table. She was sitting in her parlor and dressed in her work clothes. She had just finished watering and feeding her animals.

Elizabeth had been relying heavily on her quickness with Unforgivables in order to overcome her opponents. She did have an arsenal of painful, ultimately deadly spells, but the Killing curse would have been utilized as her main spell. Damn.

Still she hadn’t yet taken the oath binding her to the competition. She could back out…but then, she couldn’t get her revenge on Fenrir for raping her. And if the werewolf came into power and became the next Dark Lord, there was no guarantee that he wouldn’t use his power to subjugate or even kill her. He was a nasty piece of work.

She had to kill him.

Elizabeth sighed and put the parchment down. She would have to start practicing with other, more powerful spells. Fenrir was a werewolf and recovered from injuries very quickly. He was also physically faster than an ordinary human. She would have to keep her distance from him. Yes, there were other opponents to worry about, but the witch’s focus was on the werewolf above anyone else. It was he she wanted to blast from the face of the earth. The witch sighed and made a concerted effort to think of more pleasant endeavors. It wasn’t that hard to do considering what she had to look forward to.

Tonight, Rosier was giving a revel. Elizabeth liked to attend his functions. They had real class. Guests used the front entrance to his home, and a ball was held at first. Then they moved to the bowels of the mansion. Unlike Pumbleberry’s revels, Rosier provided different areas for certain “entertainments.” Also, many of the muggles destined to die came to the Manor under their own steam, invited to attend the ball, completely unaware they would not be leaving. They mingled with the Death Eaters, dancing, eating, conversating and flirting. When the party moved to the lower dungeons, they were then taken, shock and horror on their faces. It was deliciously evil. Rosier had class…real class. He knew how to take terror to a new level.

The wizard was supposed to be providing a very special kind of entertainment tonight, though she had no idea what it was. The last time he did such a thing, it consisted of several muggles chained together, covered in slow-burning tar, hoisted to the ceiling and set on fire. It had been chilling and exciting…their screams continuing for at least twenty minutes before their blackened bodies fell still. Now that…that was entertainment.

Knowing Rosier, he would top that tonight.

The wizard was always thoughtful as well. He made sure muggle men were available as well as muggle women. Pumbleberry didn’t seem to care if the female Death Eaters had men to indulge with and torture. They had to fall back on assisting the males with their victims. But not at Rosier’s revels. The wizard made sure everyone had someone suitable to enjoy. Elizabeth had been feeling rather tense and was looking forward to a bit of stress release. She might even have a little sex before getting down to business.

The witch sobered. It might well be the last bit of cock she had if Fenrir killed her. Yes, she’d wear a patch. She had been very worried that Fenrir impregnated her, but he hadn’t, thank the gods. That would be all she needed, to bear a werewolf’s child. No, that wouldn’t have happened. Elizabeth would have aborted it quickly and with malice. She wouldn’t have felt any guilt about terminating the baby. Something like that should not be allowed to live, innocent or not.

Elizabeth rose and walked into the kitchen to make herself a bite to eat. Then she’d get ready for the night’s festivities.

She was really looking forward to it.

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Robert Thatcher stood near the entrance to the tube, dressed in a cap and heavy jacket. He didn’t have a suit on today. Next to him stood a rather slim, narrow-eyed, black-haired young man, watching people entering the station closely.

“She gets on at this station,” Robert said to the young man, “I want you to follow her and find out where she lives tonight, then tomorrow, find out where she works. There’s another hundred pounds in it for you if you do that.”

The young man nodded, understanding what was expected of him.

Robert nodded back, his gray eyes watching the doors carefully for Eloise. He had stopped taking the tube after she recognized him, catching the bus instead. It took him longer to get home, but he didn’t want to run into her again. At least, not on the tube.

Robert Thatcher had been a thug for years before getting into a program to better himself. Now he had a good job, a home and was respected by his peers. He wasn’t about to lose that because of some bird he gave a hard time to years ago. He wasn’t going back to jail either. He began to leave work early, checking the tube stations each night. There were only four stops before his and one night he saw Eloise getting on the train. He had to get rid of her before she fingered him for that rape and beating. So he hired this young man to follow her. Once he got the information he needed, he’d take care of the bitch once and for all.

Suddenly Eloise entered the station and Robert stiffened.

“That’s her!” he hissed at the young man. “Go. You know where to meet me tomorrow. Remember, another hundred pounds if you find out where she works.”

The young man nodded and followed Eloise. Robert watched him until he disappeared into the crowd, then turned and exited the station. He hadn’t committed a crime in years, but to him…this was his life he was protecting. He wasn’t taking any chances on being caught and locked up because of some pussy he helped himself to over a decade ago.

The woman had to disappear.

Eloise had been checking the tube every night since she realized who the gray-eyed man was. She wanted revenge. Personal revenge. Fuck the police. They had their chance. But she hadn’t seen him since, and this made her believe he had recognized her too and made himself scarce. The bastard.

Eddie, the young man Robert paid to follow Eloise sat a few seats down, watching her. She wasn’t bad-looking for an older bird, but there was something kind of wild in her eyes. He recognized that look because it reflected back at him every time he looked in the mirror. It was the look of someone who didn’t mind causing pain. It was rare in a woman. He’d follow her, but keep his distance. Just because she was female didn’t mean she couldn’t do some damage. He had met some tough bitches in his time. He didn’t have a doubt that the bloke who hired him had something against the woman. He clearly saw malice in his eyes as he counted off the hundred pounds he paid for her to be followed. Well, that wasn’t his business. He was just trying to make a fast pound or two.

The train stopped and Eloise got off, and Eddie followed her through the rough neighborhood to her apartment. He watched as she unlocked the door and went in. He couldn’t follow her…but this was enough information. He looked around and saw some other young men gathered around a barrel where a small fire was burning. They were passing around a bottle. He walked over.

“Mind if a bloke mingles a bit?” he asked one rough looking young man with several hoops dangling from his eyebrow and a lip piercing. The thug looked at him and recognized a fellow troublemaker. He made room for him.

“Come on then. Got a smoke?”

Eddie reached in his pocket and passed out several cigarettes. In turn, the bottle was passed to him. He’d stay here all night and follow Eloise in the morning. Then he’d meet Robert later and collect the rest of his money.

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At seven o’clock, Severus apparated to Rosier’s Manor. Crowds of well-dressed people were entering the mansion, greeting each other, smiling and ready to party. House elves collected cloaks and invitations, showing the guests to the ballroom.

Severus gave an elf his invite and entered Rosier’s premises, walking down the shining hall into the large ornate ballroom. Tables covered in Slytherin green tablecloths with black and red centerpieces were set up around the perimeter of the space. An orchestra was position on a dais against the far wall. People mingled, murmuring in hushed tones, the muggles among them, unaware of the leering glances the Death Eaters were giving them, or of their over solicitous manner when speaking to them. They were being toyed with and never realized it.

Severus glanced around, looking for Rosier. He saw him seated at a table near the orchestra and strode over. The wizard looked delighted to see him.

“Ah Severus, you made it,” Rosier said with a broad smile, rising and shaking the Potions Master’s hand firmly, “Please have a seat.”

Severus sat down and Rosier waved over a house elf who balanced several glasses of amber liquid on a tray. Rosier selected one, then the elf moved to Severus who also took a drink. He sipped it and rasped slightly. Firewhiskey. Top shelf.

Rosier smiled as he looked at the milling guests.

“An excellent turnout. Tonight promises to be quite entertaining,” he said, then his eyes fell on Pumbleberry, who was sitting at a table and scowling. Rosier grinned.

“Pumbleberry hates to be upstaged,” he gloated.

“Indeed,” Severus agreed.

“Severus, the lions are absolutely ravenous. We had a hell of a time transferring them to the pit. They were so ferocious we had to stun them several times to put them under. They will make a good showing. I’ve decided to give the muggles basic weapons. Spears and knives. If they manage to kill the beasts, I’ve decided to let the survivors live. It will be incentive.”

Severus absorbed this.

“How many will you place in the pit?” the Potions Master asked him, trying to figure out the odds of the muggles actually killing the lions.

“I believe I will place five in. Three women and two men. I considered adding a couple of children, but that wouldn’t be sporting, although interesting. Maybe next time,” Rosier said.

“I think it would be more balanced if you added three men and two women,” Severus suggested. Rosier shook his head.

“No, that is too much of a sporting chance. I want the lions to win after all. There will be betting as well before the event. You can make yourself a few galleons,” Rosier said, taking a sip of his firewhiskey and smiling. “I will be guaranteeing all the bets. At least you can find some enjoyment in the festivities tonight.”

Rosier was referring to Severus’ supposed impotence.

“Perhaps,” the wizard said evenly…the wheels turning in his head. If the muggles killed the lions, they could live.

Perhaps he could find a way to help them.

He would have to wait for Draco to show up and pull him aside. There had to be something they could do.

A slender muggle in a green evening gown walked up to their table. Rosier eyed the attractive red-head with a smirk. Her green eyes rested on Severus.

“Excuse me, sir…but…would you like to dance?” she asked the dark wizard.

Severus looked at the pretty woman. Most likely she’d be dead by morning. Normally he would have declined, but…it would probably be one of her last pleasures in life.

“I’d be delighted,” the wizard purred. The woman smiled. The wizard had a beautiful voice. He wasn’t handsome, but there was something about him that attracted her attention. She was here to mingle after all.

“Excuse me, Rosier,” Severus said, rising and letting the muggle take his arm.

Rosier watched as the woman led Severus on the floor and began to dance with the wizard, the couple gliding around the ballroom as if they had been dancing together all their lives.

“At least he can get some pleasure from a beautiful woman in his arms. No doubt he would get more pleasure fucking the wench to oblivion…but we all have our trials,” Rosier thought to himself as he finished his drink. He looked over at Pumbleberry, who was busily drinking down another glass of firewhiskey. He was quickly getting blasted…his way of dealing with the opulence he himself couldn’t provide.

Rosier grinned again as he looked at the fat little pervert. Rosier rarely provided children at the revels, though on occasion he did to feed the twisted desires of those whose favor he wanted to cull for one reason or another. But Pumbleberry didn’t fall into that category. He’d have to make it a point to approach him sometime tonight and dig the knife in a little deeper.

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Draco finished dressing, his gray eyes resting on Malina, who was asleep in his four-poster. He told the witch he would be gone for several hours but would return and made her promise she would wait for him. They made love several times, Draco’s ardor leaving the witch sated and exhausted, finally telling the wizard she’d had enough.

Draco felt as if he had consumed a gallon of lust potion, he was so hot for the witch. Of course it was her upcoming absence that made him take her the way he did. It was as if he were trying to imprint himself in her psyche.

Draco leaned over and kissed Malina softly on the mouth. He darted back as the witch swung her hand at him in her sleep. He grinned. She was trying to keep him off her. Well, no doubt he would need her when he returned from the revel. Hopefully she would be accommodating.

Draco exited the manor, walking down the stairs and past the twin serpent statues at the bottom, then disapparated.

He wasn’t looking forward to tonight.

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A/N: Another chapter. Wow, Eloise had better watch her step. Elizabeth is a troubled soul…she really gets off on horrible things. No Fenrir this chapter. Terrible about what Rosier intends to do with the lions. But maybe Severus and Draco can do something about it. Thanks for reading.