Where Others Fear to Tread

Disclaimer:- The characters are not mine, as much as I would like them to be....I play with them, abuse them, use them and then patch them up and send them home. Don\'t sue, I own nothing and my car\'s shit so it\'s not worth your time. This story is likely to contain material in reference to sex with a minor with dubious consent, along with graphic m/m action and if at a stretch, eventual M-preg. If it\'s not your thing, bugger off, if it is... well come along all you warped individuals and let me spin you a tale born of only my pure evil.

Rating:- NC17 or R18+ depending on the country.

A/N:- Yes alas I have returned. I\'m cold and bored here in England and so in my little hotel room I began to write this story. It\'s your classic, Snape calls in his favours plot, resulting in hillarious smut filled fun of Harry v\'s Snape, with a few twists I\'ve yet to comprehend myself. Hope you enjoy it, I\'m still laughing my head off with how many people I pissed off last time I wrote in this genre. I really should return to LOTR but fucking Potter is just so appealing at the moment... Hoping to get just as mixed a reaction as I did with my last story. Now on with the show...........................


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WHERE OTHERS FEAR TO TREAD

Chapter 1

“You’re late.” Sweeping down the staircase he paused as he met one of his colleagues on the way up. Despite the mask they knew each other on sight and both bowed their heads in acknowledgement of the other. There were no friends in their line of work only stepping stones to be trodden upon on your way to the top.

“His mood?” The other asked inquiringly of his colleague. There was a pause before the other answered his voice a little sarcastic.

“Difficult.” Was the reply causing the other to sigh inwardly as he saw the other touch his hand to a darkening wet patch on his robe covered chest. Their conversation was short and swift, the two robed figures parting quickly to continue their separate journeys.

Reaching the bottom of the staircase he swept confidently into the chamber ignoring the way the other lingering figures bowed low to him in acknowledgement of his status among them. There were very few in their master’s inner circle and far fewer who held positions of authority other than the master himself but he happened to be among the fortunate. The doors to the inner room slid effortlessly open before him and no sooner had he crossed the threshold into the dimly light room than he fell to knees his head bowed to the floor in respect.

“Why are you late?” There was a hissing sound from the chair draped in shadow by the fireplace on the far side of the room. Obediently he kept his head down as he replied in the calm emotionless voice he favored.

“I received your summons during class my Lord. It is difficult for me to explain my absence at such times to the fool in charge, I was forced to complete my tutoring before returning to your side.” There was an angry hiss at his words before a burst of magic hit him in the chest sending him sprawling onto his back to cough heavily at the unexpected blow. From beneath the relative safety of his mask he watched as the withered scaly hand resting on the arm of the chair twitched irritably.

“Come here.” At the sound of the command he stood up slowly from the floor and made his way cautiously over to the chair. With a hidden scowl he stared down at the tortured body slumped in the chair. A thin, sallow being was buried beneath lavish flowing robes, the picture just as sickening as it normally was. At his master’s feet lay his pet, the fat lump of a man named Petigrew. Petigrew had only one purpose at his master’s feet and that was as a slave to the masters needs. Thankfully he himself was above such a pitifully position and commanded far more respect than the man currently pawing at his masters withered and grossly deformed feet. He held completely still as he watched the pair of glowing red eyes turn to look at him, a withered decrypted hand coming up to grip tightly and draw blood from his hand resting at his side. He didn’t even flinch as the trickle of blood ran down his fingertips from where the man’s razor sharp nails dug tightly into the back of his hand lying motionless at his side. “Were you not as important to me as you are I might not be so tolerant to your willfulness.” He choked back a disgusted snort as he watched the snake like being in the chair bring his hand up to his lips and lick the blood trails from his skin. Behind the mask he closed his eyes ignoring the feeling of disgust that welled in his stomach at the touch. Thank-fully his master dropped his hand quickly having tasted him and turned his attention back to the flickering flames of the fire. “I have heard some disturbing reports about you my alchemist.” Inwardly he cringed but as always he kept his mind empty of thought, knowing his master if not satisfied with his replies would test his loyalty through attempting to breech his mind.

“My lord.” He replied easily his voice not betraying any of his inner most concerns.

“It seems you are not enjoying the gifts I give you.” His eyes followed the direction of his master’s hand and fell on the four young women standing naked against the far wall, their faces covered in the familiar white masks of their circle. “They say you do not perform as you should, that it is unfulfilled on your part. Do you not like my gifts?” He took a moment to gather his thoughts and bring together a reply that would not be unacceptable.

“No my lord, it is only that I suffer a condition that prevents my full participation in such offerings.” From behind the mask he watched, as his master looked up at him the red eyes cutting through him like a knife. He felt the familiar prodding of someone attempting to enter his mind but he calmly reinforced his barriers and concentrated hard on his training. When his master didn’t seem to get what he wanted from invading his mind he hissed angrily and with a wave of his hand had him down on his knees before him in pain, trapped in a curse.

“I am displeased by this news. It is of great loss that you unlike my other most loyal followers do not posses the ability to give me what I want. You should consider yourself lucky that I gave you a choice of only the finest, yet your body betrays me. I need younger blood among my ranks and I had hoped your union would bring me such pure loyalty that you yourself display to me.” The curse tightened about his body and he shook in pain biting and drawing blood from his lips as he tried to remain silent and not show any sort of weakness. “There is a rumor in the circle that your weakness is of the male variety. Perhaps should I give you a choice in this direction you will overcome this ‘condition’ you speak of.”

Incapacitated now by the fire of the curse invading his body he collapsed in a shaking heap on the floor his fists drawn tight as he fought the pain. The blood pounded in his head making focusing on his master’s voice difficult but through it all he kept up the walls of his mind closing it off to the prodding he could still feel from his masters attempts at breaking him. “I have chosen three from among our circle, intelligent, strong and handsome enough to tempt you. They are from pure bloodlines like your own and will provide healthy, loyal offspring. You will choose a mate from among them within a month, if not I will choose for you. I will have a child from you my alchemist even if I must rip it from your unwilling body with my bare hands. ‘CRUCIO!’” The current curse on him ended not a moment before the second hit him, sending his body writhing in pain on the floor. Still he didn’t cry out his mouth firmly shut as he writhed about in the luminescent green light. The curse ended and he slumped down on the cold stone floor, feeling the iron tang of blood on his tongue as two thin trails slipped from the corner of his mouth. “Be gone from my sight. I have been patient with you my alchemist but it is wearing thin.”

Knowing he was being dismissed he pulled himself awkwardly up from the floor still shaking uncontrollably with the effects of the curse. Bowing low to the back of his master he turned and stiffly left the chamber. Luckily there were few who mattered lingering in the outer chamber and none spoke as he staggered unsteadily past them. Reaching the stairs he climbed them awkwardly his torn and bleeding hands clutching at the wall as he made his way slowly to the surface. The staircase came to an end at the trap door and with a weak push he found himself on his knees out in the middle of the grassy field. The apparition point was just at the tree line on the far side of the field. Staggering to his feet again he made his way cautiously across the uneven field struggling to stay upright. Reaching the wooden fence and the tree line he fell heavily against the wooden post ignoring the splinters in his cut hands as he removed his wand from his inner robe. With a strained breath he whispered the apparition charm and with a sharp pop and a rush of wind he was gone….

TBC>>>>>>>>>>>..