Refuge Has Its Price

ssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss


CHAPTER 9: THE MASTER TAKES A WIFE



Neville Longbottom looked back-and-forth between the former Headmaster and the young dotty witch that he'd fought alongside of in the Department of Mysteries, as members of Dumbledore's Army, just as if he was watching a Muggle tennis match.

Neville swallowed hard. His whole world was upside down, and now he didn't know what to believe in anymore.

It seemed to him as if Snape and Luna were somehow communicating without speech.

Neville didn't know if there even were such things as words in the silent language the two of them were currently using, although Harry had once told him a little bit about his Occlumency lessons.

He knew that Snape could go inside your mind just like it was an open book. Harry had always been very specific about not making eye contact with Snape, if you wanted to hide something from him.

The Occlumens Master only needed the briefest of seconds in which to invade your mind and rummage through all of your thoughts.

Neville's thoughts were already quite thoroughly scrambled just now, thank you very much. Plus, he had no desire for Snape to even begin to guess at the amount of suppressed fury that truly raged inside of him.

If the Potions Master, and thus Voldemort, should ever learn of it, it would certainly be his death sentence.

Neville Longbottom had made up his mind, while waiting in that dank cell he'd sat brooding in for the past three days. One day he was going to kill Voldemort. He'd make them all pay.

He'd just play along like a good little stupid Gryffindor until that day, and silently store up more and more rage to fuel his Killing Curse. Like Bellatrix had said to Harry once, long ago, "You have to mean it, for it to work".

When the time finally came for him to cast the Unforgivable, Neville Longbottom would be positively certain that he meant it with every fiber of his being.

Wizards lived a long, long lifespan. He had scores of years in which to plan, infiltrate, and practice.

Lots and lots of practice, just as Harry had taught all of them in their secret DA training, when that sadistic bitch, Umbridge, had taken over Hogwarts.

"Practice will make you perfect, Neville. Just concentrate, and focus," Harry had encouraged him again and again.

The time would come one day to make Harry proud. Neville vowed it to everyone that Voldemort had ever harmed or killed in his long evil lifetime.

It was the loud rumbling growl of Ginny Weasley's hungry stomach that finally drew Neville back from the dark place his mind, and soul, had been wallowing.

It gave him something and someone else to focus his attention on, and immediately pulled Neville back to the present.

Neville Longbottom stood up, walked over to the Potion Master's desk, and picked up the last cup of nutrition potion from the tray. He carried it back over to where Ginny sat, and gently attempted to get her to sip from it.

"Come on, Ginny. You've got to drink this! You're hungry and you need it. Yes, I know that it tastes bad, but it'll make you strong again," he coaxed the traumatized red-haired girl.

The potion that might keep her alive simply dribbled down her chin. She wouldn't, or couldn't, open her lips to swallow it for Neville.

He tried again, with the same messy results.

Right then. Neville accepted that he'd have to have help with this. He simply had no idea how to accomplish feeding Ginny without it.

Snape could hex his balls off later for interrupting them. Right now, Ginny Weasley's needs were more important than whatever the Potions Master was learning from Luna, or vice-versa.

Like Loony Lovegood could really tell Snape anything that he didn't already know in spades!

Neville loudly cleared his throat; that got both the wizard and witch's attention.

"A little help here please sir," he said, indicating the thick messy glops of brownish-green potion slowly drooling down Ginny's chin, and staining her chest, with a dip of his head.

Severus exasperatedly sighed as he stood up and walked around his desk. He drew his wand, and Neville sucked his breath in with a sharp inhalation as he tightly shut his eyes.

Neville could only brace himself for the 'Crucio' that was definitely about to hit him.

"Imperio," Severus softly said. He cast the Curse with only the minimum amount of foolish wand waving necessary.

Ginny's body stiffened to attention.

He then ordered, "Take the cup from Mister Longbottom and drink every drop, Miss Weasley."

A single crystal teardrop formed on Ginny's pale auburn eyelashes, to slowly trickle down her pallid left cheek, but her hand obediently reached for and took the cup from Neville's hand.

Her body hesitated for the briefest of moments, but still it raised the cup to her lips and she consumed the potion without a single complaint or grimace.

Neville reached out, carefully extracted the cup from Ginny's nerveless fingers, and whispered, "How'd you do that, sir?"

Severus wiped the drooled excess potion from the statue-still girl's face with a clean white napkin he'd conjured up.

Assuming his 'teaching voice' and stance, he answered Neville's question with one of his own, "Did you ever wonder why the Imperius Curse was declared an Unforgivable, Mister Longbottom; considering it was created for the sole purpose that I just used it for?"

"It by-passes the brain of an individual, and controls the living body as an automaton, making only the body do whatever it is commanded. The person might be fully cognizant, and fighting with every fiber of their being inside of their mind, but they simply cannot stop their body's actions. In effect, it strips a person of their freewill. That is why it is Unforgivable. No human being should ever be denied the right to choose their actions for themselves."

Neville slowly nodded his head in complete understanding, and swallowed hard.

Merlin's Balls! Professor Severus Snape was actually conversing with him, just as if he were his equal.

Surely, the world would be ending any moment now! Oh, that's right; it already had.

Perhaps it wouldn't be so bad after all, to have to live with and learn from Snape. The Dark Lord had appointed Snape to be his Mentor and Guardian only a few hours ago, when Neville had been summoned for his judgment.

He'd been granted a single year's grace period in which to conform, and become a Death Eater himself, instead of being killed immediately. It was strictly because of Snape's intercession on his behalf, when the side of Light had fallen, that he'd even been spared at all.

At the time, Neville would've preferred a quick 'Avada' to having to live with and obey his former Headmaster and personal Boggart made flesh and blood reality. He'd pictured a horrible, bread-and-water, kind of existence, and being beaten daily into submission.

Now it was rapidly becoming apparent to Neville that Severus Snape might also simply be a man. An older fellow wizard, with vast amounts of knowledge to share, and not simply an intimidating authority figure to fear.

It had been inevitable for all of the young survivors: to have to truly 'grow up'.

That was Neville Longbottom's first step into true adulthood.

He was finally seeing, and accepting, another person simply for what they were; a flawed human being just like himself, and not for what he'd like for (or feared) them to be.


s0s0s0s0s0s0s0s0s0s0s0s0s0s0s0s0s0s0s



Luna began to gracefully meander around the dark Potions Master's private office, humming her obscure little tune. She paused here and there to regretfully gaze into another jar, and sadly shake her pale-haired head.

She already knew the answer to the question that the Professor had put to Neville. There was really nothing new being said on the subject for her to learn, so she simply 'tuned' them out.

Luna had researched it in the Restricted Section of Hogwarts library after the false Mad-Eye Moody had demonstrated the Three Unforgivables on a spider in her DADA classroom during her Third year.

She was a Ravenclaw; to her very core, Luna Lovegood understood that Knowledge was power.

Had she not have chosen to only concentrate and excel on the subjects that truly interested her, she'd have even surpassed Hermione Granger's near-perfect scores.

That was one of the reasons that Luna Lovegood and Hermione Granger had established their tentative friendship two years ago, when Delores Umbridge had ran rough-shod over the entire establishment of Hogwarts and all of its' inmates, students and faculty alike.

Hermione had felt simply terrible about her participation at name-calling, and bullying, in the form of frequently referring to Luna as 'Loony Lovegood'. She hadn't even realized the ugly term had become so comfortable to her until it had spilled out of her run-away mouth, and to the girl's face no less, on the carriage ride in from the Hogsmeade Station at the start of the Golden Trio's Fifth term.

When it had been Luna's brief question, about his ability to perform the Patronus Charm, that had turned the tide in Harry's favor when they'd first formed Dumbledore's Army, Hermione had been doubly mortified by her own behaviour. She had begun to openly seek the younger Ravenclaw girl out, offering her understanding, friendship, and compassion.

Their friendship had begun that same year, and it had started right there in Hogwarts' ancient library.

Both of them were extremely bright witches (each in their own unique way, of course), very gifted, thought the world of their mutual friend Harry, and loved researching obscure subjects for hours on end in the library.

Another interest they found that they had in common was reverence for the books themselves; the texture of their intricately tooled-leather bindings, the smooth feel of the ancient parchment pages beneath their loving fingertips, the still-rich smell of the ink with which they were scribed, and the beautiful, archaic, colourful illuminations in the borders.

Sometimes the intricate and delicate drawings took up entire pages, and one could almost tell their meaning without even bothering to read the text.

Not only were the books a source of great knowledge, they were also true works of art, simply things of beauty in their own right.

Right now Luna wished that she'd done as Padma and Parvati Patil had done, and had used her infrequent and hard-won passes into the Restricted Section to study the thin selection of sexually explicit books stored there.

They'd been giving 'underground Sex Education classes' to the other interested girls, using an ancient original copy of "The Kama Sutra", complete with wizarding moving pictures; amid much silly giggling, many deep-red blushes, and a certain degree of disgust from some of the more prudish girls.

Luna wasn't a prude, and she knew the basics of sexual intercourse. Her father, Xenophillius Lovegood, had given her "the Talk" when she'd turned thirteen, and had begun her monthly menstrual cycle.

It had simply been one of those subjects that hadn't fascinated the young Ravenclaw witch at that time.

Luna had covered her embarrassment by swiftly changing the subject, with another typical 'Loony' off-the-wall statement, and then skipping right on out of the library, leaving the Patil twins to snigger and mock her behind her back.

That didn't bother Luna in the slightest. She was used to it.

Luna thought that perhaps if she could just study the subject for a few hours, the thought of having sex might not seem so intimidating. She paused in her wandering to wonder if perhaps the Great Library had survived intact. She regretfully sighed. Most likely not, if He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was planning on re-writing history.

Usually, one of the first things that all tyrants did was burn the books and records of the former regime in an effort to stamp out their old knowledge, and to replace it with indoctrination more sympathetic to their own particular cause.

Luna softly sighed again, and glanced back at the two dark-haired wizards, trying to gauge whether or not their conversation was finished. It was so rude to interrupt, but she needed answers and help right now.

She'd seen certain . . . images . . . in the Professor's mind when attempting to see what was in store for her. They'd definitely shocked her; the lasciviousness of some of the acts that she'd witnessed, second-hand, in his memories had even sickened her.

She'd hurriedly left that secret place in his mind. In withdrawing so precipitously, he'd felt her presence there, deep within his consciousness.

But Luna believed that hadn't been such a bad thing after all.

They had instantly recognized the other as what they truly were, kindred.

Perhaps she could talk to the Professor about her worries on the subject, but not in front of Neville Longbottom.

The young Gryffindor wizard would probably shit kittens if he found out that she was to mate with the Dark Lord this night. He would never be able to see the 'big picture' of why she was even willing to do so.

Her mother had been a Slytherin. Luna Lovegood had learnt the value of secretiveness, and simply keeping some things to one's self, at a very young age from her Mum, before that lady's untimely demise.

Neville would want to save her, or something equally stupid, if he knew. She knew in her heart that the Dark Lord meant to have her as his own, no matter how many bodies he had to step across to gain her. Luna couldn't bear to have yet another friend's death weighing on her heart.

Besides, Luna Lovegood was already busily calculating the good and bad side of her present predicament.

Their former world, and life, had now passed away. She'd most definitely be in a better position to help her father, and her few remaining friends, as the Consort to the powerful, but dark, evil, wizard currently ruling their world.

That such an older, more experienced, wizard would actually desire her enough to wed her was surreal to Luna, but bore out the truthfulness of her Prophesy carefully stored in her Mum's old Pensive.

Harry Potter's hadn't been the only Prophesy concerning the rise and fall of the Dark Lord. There had been a total of four made over a two-year time span. Her Mum had told her all about it, right before her fatal accident, just in case the protection potion she'd been attempting to brew to save her daughter failed.

Her fate could have been worse.

She could have simply ended up as a broodmare, given as a war-trophy to some anonymous Death Eater, popping out even more babies than Molly Weasley had done. Children who, in their own turn, would be doomed from birth to become Death Eaters themselves one day.

Who knew exactly what the future held, really? Prophecy was such a murky area after all, and sometimes proved false, as both Fate and Freewill sometimes intervened in one's Destiny.

Perhaps she could even save the Dark Lord from himself one day.

Yeah, right! When pink pigs fly!

Most likely she'd just bore that dark wizard with her inexperience; she'd never practiced any kind of 'petting' with the any of the boys, or even any real kissing before--except for that one time with Susan Bones--but she'd just been another girl, so Luna wasn't counting it as real experience. Not the kind of experience that she would need tonight, anyway.

Sweet Circe, please don't let it be as nasty as it looked. Or let it hurt that badly!

Lord Voldemort wasn't likely to be patient with, or consoling of, any virginal jitters.

And on that note, Luna querulously whispered, "Professor Snape?" At the swivel of his black head back towards her, she continued, "Sir, would it be possible for me to have a bath and a clean change of clothes?"

Severus politely inclined his dark head, and led the way through the hidden door at the very back of his office into his private quarters.

Neville rapidly followed, pulling an unresisting Ginny along with him. He was unwilling to let Luna Lovegood go anywhere by herself with Snape, especially into a bedroom.

The Professor situated Luna with all the amenities she'd need to bathe in his private bathroom, including a relaxing healing potion to pour into her bathwater, as well as a calming draught to swallow beforehand. He left her with a pot of healing salve to treat her minor injuries, and a long-lasting numbing potion that tasted of bitter willow for "after".

Leaving his personal house elf, Gristle, to help Luna and to attend to anything else she might require while he was absent, Severus cast a quick 'Scourgify' on Ginny Weasley to remove the grime and stench of her caked-on accumulation of body functions.

It really took twice. The first 'Scourgify' had taken care of removing the filth, but left the odor behind. The second 'Scourgify' was necessary for the removal of the stench that assailed his sensitive olfactory nerve endings.



He then grabbed Neville by his collar, and pulling Ginny in-between them to prevent 'splinching', he Apparated the three of them directly on to Malfoy Manor.

He turned his two young 'guests' over to Lucius Malfoy's personal house elf, Stubbs.

They'd both be in good hands. Stubbs was nothing, if not dependable. Lucius Malfoy would have had it no other way.

Being shown into a plush guest chamber, instead of a dank holding cell in Malfoy's cellars, was an illuminating experience for young Longbottom.

'So this is how the other half lives!' thought Neville Longbottom, as he prepared to take a long, hot, shower of his very own in a spacious and luxurious private bathroom, prior to applying the healing salves and potions that Snape had left for him.


'A wizard could really get used to this.'


ssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss


Severus reappeared inside his private dungeon chambers with a dulled clap of Apparition, only to have to wait nearly half an hour for Luna to emerge from her soak, and begin dressing for her wedding.

He used his time wisely by gathering together all of the potions, salves, and unguents the young witch might need for what she'd be enduring later that night.

Severus hesitated as he fingered a bottle of lust potion, but he was not thinking of Voldemort as he did so. The Dark Lord would not have need of it.

The Potions Master was thinking that just a single drop of it, slipped into the virgin's goblet when toasting her marriage at the wedding feast, would insure the girl's eager participation in her wedding night.

Severus silently begged her forgiveness, and pocketed the vial.


ssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss


The Great Hall had been transfigured into a shimmering alabaster Grecian temple. Incense burned in a dozen magically suspended golden braziers, and a full moon shone brightly in the midst of a star-filled midnight blue sky on the enchanted ceiling above.

Night-blooming jasmine crept up the temple's columns, releasing their heady fragrance into the mix.

Surprisingly, Bellatrix Lestrange had been selected by the Dark Lord to provide the decorations, and she had amazingly outdone herself.

It was tasteful, beautiful, and simply elegant; every young witch's dream of exactly how her wedding should be.

When Luna Lovegood had entered the Great Hall on Severus Snape's arm, she had been overwhelmed by the immensity of her fate. Her knees had nearly buckled, and she'd almost tripped on the hem of the sapphire blue robe she'd requested.

'Calm. Steady now. Be strong, girl.' Luna heard the Professor's voice in her mind. Amazingly, he also gave her hand a gentle, reassuring, pat where she'd placed it on his arm. Terrified dove-grey eyes stared for a moment up into miserable, jet-black, eyes.

A quickly stifled sob escaped her throat, and silent tears streamed down her ghostly pale cheeks. Her eyes drifted shut for a moment, to slowly re-open. Firm resolve, and complete acceptance of her fate, filled their depths. Severus quirked a brief, sad grin, before swiftly resuming his normal saturnine expression.

As the first strains of simple Celtic harp music filled the air, they began their long walk up to the temple's altar standing where the dais normally was.

Waiting there for them stood Lucius Malfoy, prepared to perform the ceremony as Minister of Magic, and her serpentine bridegroom . . . Lord Voldemort.

Luna had asked her former Professor to give her away as her true kinsman. He gently squeezed the slender little hand that had tightly clutched down on his arm with nervous, bruising, force, at this, her point-of-no-return.

Luna Lovegood's steps never faltered. Her sing-song voice had clearly, and firmly, repeated the bond-vows required to tie her for life to the monster that was the Dark Lord.

The fey little witch was magnificent in Severus' eyes at that moment; his own black eyes had suspiciously misted over a bit as he watched the ceremony unfurl.

If he could have, when Lucius had asked for reasons why they should not be joined, he would have shouted a thousand reasons why.

As it stood, Severus Snape remained solemnly quiet, and simply allowed it to happen.

There was truly nothing else he could have done. Voldemort would have simply 'Avada'd him, stepped over his stiff body, and still would have taken the girl.

Severus prayed that one day she'd forgive him, or kill him. At this moment, in his own self-hatred, he could have cared less which one it would be.



END OF CHAPTER 9



SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

A/N: Mmmmm-kay! Poor Luna. Lucky Voldemort.

Next, we'll be exploring Voldie's reactions (and thoughts) as a newly-married man, as well as a side trip to check on Harry and little Tommy, with just a bit more on Luna's preparations for her wedding night.

Once we put LL/LV to bed "for the night", we'll be getting back to HG/SS. Promise.

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS