Beauty and Sadness
folder
Harry Potter › Het - Male/Female › Snape/Lily
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
9
Views:
14,562
Reviews:
32
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Harry Potter › Het - Male/Female › Snape/Lily
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
9
Views:
14,562
Reviews:
32
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Death Eaters Gather
Ashley Davies: I'm going as fast as I can... I have another story on this site, and I just added some erotica (see my author page for links).
Mrs. J: I'm pleased and flattered!
Tender Quaint Witch: Believe me, I'm updating as fast as I can!
sheherazade: I'm afraid James doesn't.
*
Mulciber and Yaxley darkened the threshold of Snape’s dormitory room. His eyes flicked up.
“It’s time,” said Yaxley.
They pulled on black masks and hoods and made their way to the Slytherin common room, collecting more and more Slytherins as they went. Soon they were gliding out the main entrance of Hogwarts and heading toward the Whomping Willow. The air was sharp and the moon hid one eye behind a cloud. No one said a word, but Snape could taste their fear. He himself felt hyper-alert and filled with anticipation. It was always thus when he faced the Dark Lord. I want to know the ways of power.
At last the hooded figures assembled in a circle near the tree. Though their faces were hidden, Snape had memorized their positions and could tick off each of their identities. They waited. A hard breeze riffled the hoods, but their owners stood still.
Snape heard a rustling in the grass. Nagini, he thought. He turned, the first to do so. A flutter of cloak was the only warning before the Dark Lord emerged from the forest. His handsome face inside his hood looked blurred and chalky, the lips gone, the eyes red and slit-like. The fingers holding the black cloak were longer than any human fingers. At once, Snape fell to his knees, crawled toward the figure, kissed the hem of his cloak. “Master,” he murmured, before backing away to reform his position in the circle. The others followed suit, whispering their allegiance.
Voldemort stayed impassive during these greetings. When the last wizard had taken his place in the circle, Voldemort put back his hood, exposing his terrible face.
“Welcome, Death Eaters,” he said softly. “I see many loyal faces here today. Many who would have me believe you are loyal. What are you willing to risk for your lord? What are you willing to suffer?”
Most of the others fell into an uneasy silence, but Snape had the sense to say firmly, “Anything, Master!” A woman’s voice chimed in with the same words. That would be Bellatrix Black, Snape thought. He remembered her during the last orgy, which had taken place in the boys’ dormitory in Slytherin. Bellatrix had seduced two boys into letting her dominate them, whips and canes and all, and then she had beaten them in a way Snape had never seen before, laughing as they screamed for mercy, choking on their own blood. They lay in bed for days, and no one would take them to Madam Pomfrey for fear of the orgy’s being discovered. As he thought about this memory, the others in the circle echoed Snape’s words: “Anything, oh, anything, Master.”
“My most loyal servant,” Voldemort said coldly to Snape. “Come near.”
Snape strode forward and knelt again. “Master,” he said again. He had an idea what might come next. He won’t kill me, he thought. Must be calm. Keep my mind blank.
“For many years I have had to pass messages among you,” Voldemort said in his cold voice. “You, my loyal servants, have gathered. But the messages have been slow in passing. I tire of waiting. I have a better way. Roll back your right sleeve, Snape.”
Excitement and fear surged through Snape. He promptly rolled back his sleeve and held out his arm. The arm was quivering. With a supreme force of will, he forced himself to hold still. He had seen the Dark Lord lop off limbs, sometimes with knives, sometimes with heavy sticks... . Snape squelched his thoughts. The best thing to do was submit promptly and willingly. Whatever happens, I will gain power from it, he thought.
The Dark Lord raised his wand. Its end was glowing like a poker pulled from a bonfire. Snape heard the collective intake of breath. His heart started to hammer madly, and he began his Occlumency training: mind blank, blood calm. I will not waver. The Dark Lord grasped Snape’s wrist with his snake-like fingers and plunged the tip of his wand onto Snape’s arm. Everything exploded with pain. Frantically Snape held onto consciousness, willing himself not to cry out, not to move. He was sweating, trembling, sucking in his breath. Red lines appeared in his vision. I will not waver. Ruthlessly, Voldemort moved his searing wand over and over Snape’s arm. Snape could smell his own flesh cooking. At last, Voldemort said, “Look.”
Sweat dripped from Snape’s hair, down his face behind his mask, from his chin. He looked. A black brand pulsed on his forearm, blood trickling from its livid gray edges, a picture of a skull with a snake protruding from the mouth like a penis. Snape couldn’t say why, but his heart leapt with excitement.
“It’s beautiful, Master!”
“Yes,” came Voldemort’s cold voice. “Miss Black.”
Snape swept back into his place in the circle. His arm burned, and his temples throbbed, but he kept silent behind his mask.
A woman's smaller figure now knelt at Voldemort’s feet. “Master,” the woman said reverentially, almost sensually. The brand came down. Bellatrix made no noise at first, but toward the end, a strangled sound of ecstasy tore from her. “Oh, Master,” she said, gazing at the ugly wound, “it’s beautiful!” She returned to her place in the circle, licking some of the blood through her mask.
And so it went for hours. Snape tired of hearing the screams of agony, smelling the cooking human skin, seeing the faces contorting with pain and fear. It began to bother him. But still...this was the portal to power.
When the last brand had been applied, Voldemort stood silently, looking around at them. Piteous moans and whimpering filled the air.
“Stop your whinging!” hissed the Dark Lord. “When you feel the Dark Mark burn, Apparate to me at once. I shall be waiting."
He swept his cloak around him and melted back into the woods.
The other witches and wizards gathered their cloaks around them and shuffled back to Hogwarts. Snape could hear several of them still moaning. His own arm ached and burned until it was all he thought about. He longed to kick one of the moaners, if only to make him shut up. To his mingled relief and horror, Lucius did the job for him. “Shut it, Crabbe, you great baby! The Dark Lord has given us a gift!” After that, things were mercifully silent as the Death Eaters trooped back to the dungeons.
Snape rolled onto his bed, careful not to let anything touch his arm. The beginnings of worry stirred inside him. How would he keep this from Lily? But the excitement of the night overrode that thought. He drifted in and out of fitful sleep, the full moon shining full on his face all night.
Mrs. J: I'm pleased and flattered!
Tender Quaint Witch: Believe me, I'm updating as fast as I can!
sheherazade: I'm afraid James doesn't.
*
Mulciber and Yaxley darkened the threshold of Snape’s dormitory room. His eyes flicked up.
“It’s time,” said Yaxley.
They pulled on black masks and hoods and made their way to the Slytherin common room, collecting more and more Slytherins as they went. Soon they were gliding out the main entrance of Hogwarts and heading toward the Whomping Willow. The air was sharp and the moon hid one eye behind a cloud. No one said a word, but Snape could taste their fear. He himself felt hyper-alert and filled with anticipation. It was always thus when he faced the Dark Lord. I want to know the ways of power.
At last the hooded figures assembled in a circle near the tree. Though their faces were hidden, Snape had memorized their positions and could tick off each of their identities. They waited. A hard breeze riffled the hoods, but their owners stood still.
Snape heard a rustling in the grass. Nagini, he thought. He turned, the first to do so. A flutter of cloak was the only warning before the Dark Lord emerged from the forest. His handsome face inside his hood looked blurred and chalky, the lips gone, the eyes red and slit-like. The fingers holding the black cloak were longer than any human fingers. At once, Snape fell to his knees, crawled toward the figure, kissed the hem of his cloak. “Master,” he murmured, before backing away to reform his position in the circle. The others followed suit, whispering their allegiance.
Voldemort stayed impassive during these greetings. When the last wizard had taken his place in the circle, Voldemort put back his hood, exposing his terrible face.
“Welcome, Death Eaters,” he said softly. “I see many loyal faces here today. Many who would have me believe you are loyal. What are you willing to risk for your lord? What are you willing to suffer?”
Most of the others fell into an uneasy silence, but Snape had the sense to say firmly, “Anything, Master!” A woman’s voice chimed in with the same words. That would be Bellatrix Black, Snape thought. He remembered her during the last orgy, which had taken place in the boys’ dormitory in Slytherin. Bellatrix had seduced two boys into letting her dominate them, whips and canes and all, and then she had beaten them in a way Snape had never seen before, laughing as they screamed for mercy, choking on their own blood. They lay in bed for days, and no one would take them to Madam Pomfrey for fear of the orgy’s being discovered. As he thought about this memory, the others in the circle echoed Snape’s words: “Anything, oh, anything, Master.”
“My most loyal servant,” Voldemort said coldly to Snape. “Come near.”
Snape strode forward and knelt again. “Master,” he said again. He had an idea what might come next. He won’t kill me, he thought. Must be calm. Keep my mind blank.
“For many years I have had to pass messages among you,” Voldemort said in his cold voice. “You, my loyal servants, have gathered. But the messages have been slow in passing. I tire of waiting. I have a better way. Roll back your right sleeve, Snape.”
Excitement and fear surged through Snape. He promptly rolled back his sleeve and held out his arm. The arm was quivering. With a supreme force of will, he forced himself to hold still. He had seen the Dark Lord lop off limbs, sometimes with knives, sometimes with heavy sticks... . Snape squelched his thoughts. The best thing to do was submit promptly and willingly. Whatever happens, I will gain power from it, he thought.
The Dark Lord raised his wand. Its end was glowing like a poker pulled from a bonfire. Snape heard the collective intake of breath. His heart started to hammer madly, and he began his Occlumency training: mind blank, blood calm. I will not waver. The Dark Lord grasped Snape’s wrist with his snake-like fingers and plunged the tip of his wand onto Snape’s arm. Everything exploded with pain. Frantically Snape held onto consciousness, willing himself not to cry out, not to move. He was sweating, trembling, sucking in his breath. Red lines appeared in his vision. I will not waver. Ruthlessly, Voldemort moved his searing wand over and over Snape’s arm. Snape could smell his own flesh cooking. At last, Voldemort said, “Look.”
Sweat dripped from Snape’s hair, down his face behind his mask, from his chin. He looked. A black brand pulsed on his forearm, blood trickling from its livid gray edges, a picture of a skull with a snake protruding from the mouth like a penis. Snape couldn’t say why, but his heart leapt with excitement.
“It’s beautiful, Master!”
“Yes,” came Voldemort’s cold voice. “Miss Black.”
Snape swept back into his place in the circle. His arm burned, and his temples throbbed, but he kept silent behind his mask.
A woman's smaller figure now knelt at Voldemort’s feet. “Master,” the woman said reverentially, almost sensually. The brand came down. Bellatrix made no noise at first, but toward the end, a strangled sound of ecstasy tore from her. “Oh, Master,” she said, gazing at the ugly wound, “it’s beautiful!” She returned to her place in the circle, licking some of the blood through her mask.
And so it went for hours. Snape tired of hearing the screams of agony, smelling the cooking human skin, seeing the faces contorting with pain and fear. It began to bother him. But still...this was the portal to power.
When the last brand had been applied, Voldemort stood silently, looking around at them. Piteous moans and whimpering filled the air.
“Stop your whinging!” hissed the Dark Lord. “When you feel the Dark Mark burn, Apparate to me at once. I shall be waiting."
He swept his cloak around him and melted back into the woods.
The other witches and wizards gathered their cloaks around them and shuffled back to Hogwarts. Snape could hear several of them still moaning. His own arm ached and burned until it was all he thought about. He longed to kick one of the moaners, if only to make him shut up. To his mingled relief and horror, Lucius did the job for him. “Shut it, Crabbe, you great baby! The Dark Lord has given us a gift!” After that, things were mercifully silent as the Death Eaters trooped back to the dungeons.
Snape rolled onto his bed, careful not to let anything touch his arm. The beginnings of worry stirred inside him. How would he keep this from Lily? But the excitement of the night overrode that thought. He drifted in and out of fitful sleep, the full moon shining full on his face all night.