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

Chapter 61 ~ Contemplations

Albus sat at his desk, Fawkes trilling softly behind him as the old wizard considered his options, his blue eyes rather wet. He remembered when he met Tom Riddle in the orphanage years ago…how he saw the signs that the boy’s tendencies were dark. But he sincerely believed that with the discipline and direction that Hogwarts could provide, Tom would eventually come around.

But the Headmaster had been wrong. Tom Riddle became Voldemort and the entire wizarding world paid for his error for years before the despot’s death. Albus often thought if he had given Tom more one on one time, worked with him instead of leaving him to develop on his own, he could have made a difference in the outcome, altered the path the wizard chose.

Maybe this time, this time he could do it right. Yes, Voltaire was older than his father and already transformed, but that transformation could be reversed. Maybe if taken away from the influence of Bellatrix, the boy would respond to love, real love and kindness. All living things responded to kindness, didn’t they?

Like any other human being, the Headmaster had his faults, his weaknesses and his guilt. Like many people, he also blamed himself for things that really were beyond his ability to change or control. The truth of the matter was deep inside, Albus Dumbledore believed he failed Tom Riddle.

He didn’t want to fail his son.

*************************************************

On Friday evening, Severus attended the final Order meeting. It was believed tonight would be the night the Death Eaters would be finally collected, including Bellatrix LeStrange and Voltaire. Yet not one wizard outside of Kingsley and Severus knew of the boy’s existence. The Potions Master stood in a corner with his arms folded as Kingsley addressed the Order members in the magically enlarged living room at Grimauld Place. All members were dressed in white robes with a Phoenix embroidered over the heart.

“You all have your track-a-ports?” he asked the wizards, who held them up, “Good. Severus will activate his own when the time arrives for us to strike. Hopefully we will have an element of surprise and not have to take many lives. We want every Death Eater to go to trial if possible. But, if your lives are in danger, then do what you have to in order to save yourselves.”

Murmurs of assent moved through the ranks.

Harry looked at Ron as he fingered his track-a-port.

“I’m going to blast every single Death Eater I see into tomorrow,” he said, his glasses glinting.

”I’m with you on that,” Ron said, his blue eyes narrowed.

Kingsley went over the details of the attack until he was satisfied everyone understood. They did. They had been going over the same details for months. Neville Longbottom was present, a grim look on his face. The tall, dark-haired wizard knew who he was going for…the witch who had crucio’d his parents into insanity. Both were dead now, but for Neville, they had always been beyond his reach. Now, he had one person on his mind.

Bellatrix LeStrange.

The normally even-tempered young wizard didn’t plan on taking her prisoner either. As far as Neville was concerned, Bellatrix had lived long enough.

************************************************

Voltaire lay on his stomach on a cot as Jordan carefully rubbed a bit of an oil mixture into his dry scaly skin. The healer took his time massaging, Voltaire’s eyes closed in pleasure. He itched quite often and Jordan developed a soothing ointment for him.

”Jordan,” Voltaire suddenly hissed.

“Yes, my Lord?” the blonde healer replied, working the ointment into the wizard’s buttocks.

“Do you have sex with Aunt Bellatrix?” the young despot asked.

Jordan’s stomach tightened though he did his best not to show a reaction. He knew Voltaire was fucking the witch now…and it was a relief actually. Bella was into giving pain during sex, and Jordan wasn’t into receiving it. He had been her main outlet for years, except for the unfortunate pick-up now and then…wizards brought to her stronghold, never to leave.

“I have, my Lord,” the healer admitted.

“Did you like it?” Voltaire asked him as the wizard moved to his thighs.

“Ah…not very much, I’m afraid, Voltaire. She has different tastes than I do,” Jordan said carefully.

”Yes. She likes pain,” the young wizard agreed, “She likes me to beat her. Have you beaten her?”

“Oh no, my Lord. Never. She…she beats me…or used to. Among other things,” he replied with a shudder, "She doesn’t come for me now.”

Voltaire was surprised by this information.

”She never tries to hurt me. It wouldn’t go well for her if she did,” Voltaire said, flipping over, his red eyes resting on Jordan. He was a handsome wizard, if a bit thin.

Jordan worked the ointment into Voltaire’s face carefully, remembering what a fine looking boy he used to be compared to the monster he was now.

“Do you miss sex?” Voltaire asked the wizard.

Suddenly, Jordan felt very uncomfortable.

“No,” he said rather quickly.

Voltaire was silent for a moment.

“My father had sex with women and men. I’ve had a woman…Aunt Bella, but I’ve never had a man. Have you?” the young wizard asked him.

Jordan noticed with some alarm that the boy’s cock was beginning to writhe.

”Ah, no. I prefer women, my Lord. Only women,” he said, his voice quavering a bit.

Voltaire was silent for a moment, then said, “I am curious about what it feels like to fuck a man, Jordan.”

The healer didn’t reply as his hands moved over the wizard’s abdomen. The boy’s cock writhed and touched the back of his hand. The healer continued rubbing the ointment into Voltaire’s skin, his face slightly contorted. Gods…

Jordan sped up, working around the boy’s writhing cock as fast as he could without being too obvious. Voltaire said nothing else until Jordan finished, then sat up on the cot.

“Jordan,” he lisped at him.

“Yes my Lord?” the wizard replied, his whole body tense.

“Hand me my boxers,” Voltaire said, his crimson eyes glittering.

Jordan did that as Voltaire hopped off the high cot and took them from the healer, slipping them on. Jordan was never so glad to see anyone get dressed in all his life. He helped the wizard on with his crimson robes, then his socks and crimson boots.

“How do I look?” Voltaire asked, striking what he thought was a commanding pose.

“You look quite masterful, my Lord,” Jordan replied looking at the scaly wizard. He blinked as Voltaire flicked his tongue out, tapping his cheek with it.

”Jordan, when I return from claiming my throne, I intend to claim you as well. I need experience with both men and women, and I will not take a Death Eater and not know what I’m doing. He may…talk. So take a colonic,” the boy said.

There was nothing Jordan could say but, “Yes my Lord” as his buttocks clenched together reflexively. First her was subjected to Bella and her twisted desires for years, now he was going to have his ass reamed by Voltaire…a boy he had raised as if his own son until eighteen months old. Now it wasn’t as if Jordan didn’t know what it was like to have that happen. Bella had a number of strap-ons of different sizes…but the act was never one he enjoyed. It was always a violation. But this would be the first time he would be penetrated by another male. The idea of it was enough to make him sick.

Gods…if only Bella brought him ingredients that he could brew a fast-acting poison with. He’d end it all.

Voltaire strode from the healer’s room with a smirk.

It was good to be the king.

**********************************************

Elizabeth swung her right arm a few times. Yes, it felt fine. Tonight was the night the final three would be chosen in the competition. It seemed the gods of revenge weren’t with the witch. Again she and Fenrir did not match up for a duel to the death, which meant they would be expected to just overcome each other if they both survived their opponents tonight.

Well, rules were made to be broken.

***********************************************

In his cave, Fenrir paced restlessly. The finalists would be chosen tonight. That bitch Elizabeth managed to slip by him again. Well, if she was a finalist and he wasn’t supposed to kill her…just overcome her, a nice public rape ought to do that just fine. He smiled at the thought of it, all his pointed teeth showing.

Then once he drank the elixir, every fucking human in the ranks would be bitten on the night of the full moon. He would have an army of werewolves. The wizarding world would become quite lively then, the streets flowing with blood as he led a revolution that was a long time coming. Fuck asking for rights…

It was time to take them.

**************************************************

Bellatrix nervously paced back and forth in her bedroom. Finally after years of patience, her plan to claim Voldemort’s throne was coming to fruition. She had no doubt she and Voltaire alone could pull off the coup. Death Eaters were weak sheep and followers. Those with aspirations of greatness had already been killed off, thanks to the competition for the throne. Actually, it made her job easier.

But Bella was feeling some unease at the turn Voltaire had taken since drinking the elixir. He was too much like his father…covetous of power. The witch was determined to see this through to the end, but in her heart she was afraid that Voltaire would turn on her. Maybe she had indulged his darker side too much, but he needed to be merciless and self-directing to be effective…he had to be able to place his needs before those of others if he were to achieve true greatness and succeed where his father failed.

She hoped Voltaire would be grateful and let her rule beside him as they had talked about all his life. She was his mother, turned lover and servant. If he felt anything for anyone, Bella thought it would be for her.

She had no idea just how good a job she’d done on the boy.

**************************************************

Albus and Hermione both looked at the room they created for Voltaire. It was rather bare, containing only a bed, wardrobe, dresser, mirror a small bookshelf and a bathroom with a shower and sunken tub. There was also a heavy chair bolted to the floor with manacles. Albus reluctantly included this to restrain the young wizard for the first few days. Plus it would be needed when Severus administered the anti-elixir. Hermione developed it, but a Potions Master had to administer it to a human being, according to wizarding law since it was not a registered potion. Voltaire was going to be a secret for a long time, but if anything leaked out, at least they would be covered potion-wise.

“I hate that chair,” Hermione said to Albus.

The wizard shook his head.

“I know Hermione, but we must do what we can to protect ourselves and the boy. He will not be happy when delivered here. He will have to be restrained.”

Hermione stared at the chair, then looked at Albus.

“I hope we can help him, Headmaster,” she said softly, her eyes dark with worry.

Albus patted her shoulder comfortingly.

“As do I, Hermione. As do I,” he said, his eyes resting on the restraining chair.

*******************************************

The arena under Pumbleberry’s mansion had to be greatly enlarged to accommodate the crowd of nearly seven hundred Death Eaters who would be in attendance for tonight’s events. It was down to the wire and everyone wanted to be present to see just who would be the one to take the elixir.

The six opponents were already on site, each one assigned their own waiting room with a single bench on which to sit. In each room the competitors sat in silence, listening to the noise outside, making their plans and maybe even their peace with whatever dark gods they believed in. Fenrir picked his teeth and Elizabeth flexed her arm a bit more.

Severus sat in the top row again, alongside Draco. When the final three were selected, the stands would be removed and a small ceremony would be held congratulating them, then the three of them would face off in a smaller enclosed arena set in the earth, the goal of the final battle being to injure, not kill, and the one still able to function after the mayhem would be declared the winner.

It would be up to him or her whether to take the elixir immediately or wait until their injuries were healed. Severus was to administer it.

Presently everyone settled in and Rosier stood up in his box seat at the arena’s end and placed his wand against his throat.

“Welcome everyone to the final competition. We have three duels to the death to sort out the three most worthy opponents out of six competitors. Then we will have a small intermission and ceremony acknowledging their skill and accomplishment to this point, then a final face-off between the three to find out who is the best and strongest. He or she will be declared the winner and our next Dark Lord!” the wizard said.

The crowd cheered and stamped its feet as Pumbleberry arose, clearing his throat before invoking the Sonorous charm and announcing the first duelists.

”Henry Castleworth and…erm…Unther Greybeard, enter…erm…the arena!” the wizard

“I hate to hear that pervert talk,” Draco grumped to Severus, then proceeded to mimic Pumbleberry, “Erm…erm…erm.”

”Shh,” the Potions Master said to the blonde wizard as the two competitors entered the arena, both pairs of eyes bright and focused.

“BEGIN!” Pumbleberry roared.

****************************************************
A/N: Thanks for reading.