The Black Prince | By : bitterfig Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male Views: 2252 -:- Recommendations : 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. |
Title: The Black Prince
Author: Bitterfig
Characters: Rodolphus and Bellatrix Lestrange, Severus Snape, Regulus Black
Summary: 20 year old Severus Snape’s first meeting with the newly initiated Death Eater Regulus Black. Kind of like Sleeping Beauty with teeth. And tongue.
Beta Reader: Nzomniac
Word Count: 2216
Rating: R
Warnings: Snape/Black slash, implied threesome, implied alcohol abuse, implied cousin incest, sexual situations involving an under-aged character (Regulus is 17)
The Black Prince
Severus Snape never knew quite what to expect when he visited Rodolphus and Bellatrix’s flat at 1313 Mockingbird Lane. Bellatrix delighted in taunting him with glimpses of the decadent lifestyle in which she and her husband indulged. It amused her to see how uncomfortable she could make him.
In the past he had found her lounging around in an array of revealing dressing gowns and lingerie, displaying fresh bruises and welts. Other times there had been men or women she would caress and kiss in front of him. Rodolphus, who made no secret of his disdain for Snape enjoyed the game as much as his wife. There was always evidence of his opium and absinthe use about, and he had no qualms about pornographic displays of affection with his wife or the string of anonymous men and women that flitted about them.
Snape had loved Bellatrix once with the innocence of a child. He had been a child when she claimed him, 17 years old, literally a schoolboy. He had thought she was what he had been waiting for all his life, someone who understood that he was special. For nearly two years she had groomed him, trained him, lavished him with care and attention then she had taken him by the hand and turned him over to Lord Voldermort.
That had been a year ago and during that year she had grown cruel towards him. “Do stop looking at me as if I’ve shattered your dreams, Severus,” she’d sighed languidly months before. “It bores me to death.” He believed she had betrayed him; he blamed her for what he had become and he hid it poorly.
She had sent one of her mockingbirds to him the evening before with a message to come to the flat at 10:00 a.m. “Let yourself in,” she had written. He expected the worst.
When he arrived at nearly 11:00 a.m., the Lestrange residence was much too quiet. He wandered from room to room finally locating them in the library, a beautiful room, white and deceptively light, French doors reaching up to its high ceilings. Between the narrow shelves of books hung a Tamara de Lempicka painting of a beautiful dark haired woman that might have been Bellatrix. She was naked her arms overflowing with dark blue and purple flowers. Such an abundance of flowers that blossoms had fallen to the ground and lay sodden at her feet.
Beneath the painting on one of the large gold and white chaise lounges the Lestranges’ doubtlessly kept around for just such a purpose three bodies were sprawled. The lady of the house was wearing little more than her black lace stockings, garter belt and a many tiered necklace of silver and sapphires. She was as always stunningly beautiful, even with her elaborate upswept hair-do from the night before fallen down and one of her inch long false eye lashes half off lying across her cheek at an odd angle.
Her husband was entirely naked. He had the long, perfectly muscled body of a panther. Though Snape had no intention of admiring Rodolphus Lestrange for anything he none the less found his gaze lingering over the man’s body until he noticed something that made his throat contract so harshly he could scarcely gasp a breath. Lestrange’s cock looked as if it had been dipped in blood.
Revolted, Snape turned his eyes away from Rodolphus to the third person who rested under and between the Lestranges’. It was a young man, a boy really. A lovely, lovely boy. Tousled chestnut hair fell across his forehead, his skin seemed glowingly translucent, and his face so angelic Snape almost forgot for a moment the utterly sordid circumstances he was in. However, he was immediately reminded of them by the state of the boy’s clothing. His white shirt was unbuttoned to the waist displaying his narrow, hairless chest and his trousers were similarly undone, low on his hips.
Snape had seen quite enough. Not wanting to touch the almost naked woman, he carefully covered his bare hand with his robe and shook Bellatrix’s shoulder rather ungently.
“Bellatrix,” Snape said sharply. “Wake up Bellatrix.”
She batted her eyes open, yawned and sat up languidly not bothering to cover herself.
“Dear little Severus,” she purred. “I wasn’t expecting you so early.”
He turned his eyes away. “According to your letter you were expecting me almost an hour ago.” She laughed.
“You’re too clever as always. After we sent you that message Rodolphus and I were having a little celebration with the newest Death Eater.” She gestured at the bottles of wine and absinthe, at the bodies beside her. “As you can see things got a bit out of hand.”
Snape couldn’t speak but he couldn’t hold his piece. “That boy, he’s a child Bellatrix. It’s obscene,” he managed.
“Whom did you kill last night Severus?” She asked coolly. “Whom did you torture? Was it one of those pesky Phoenix people, or some pure-blooded matron who just won’t see things the Dark Lord’s way? Some low-level Death Eater who’d stepped out of line?”
“Bellatrix, please, don’t.”
“You’re an inquisitor,” she said. “An assassin. I don’t look down on what you do. I understand it’s necessary to the cause but don’t profess to take the moral high ground with me. Whatever Rodolphus and I were up to last night with this child, he was willing and he’s still breathing which is more than I can say for whoever you spent last night with.”
He felt like she’d punched him in the stomach and sank down into a chair. Sensing she’d gone too far Bellatrix came to him and sat on his lap. He absolutely cringed beneath her.
“Really, Severus,” she sighed. “I don’t want to be cruel to you but you’re such a prude and I won’t be treated like a deviant because you’re terrified of sex. Let me assure you that child, as you call him. is just as old as you were when we met and just as capable of making his own choices.”
“Who is he?” Snape asked trying to seem rational. He wasn’t, he was desperate for her to get off of him. Being that close to anyone made him positively nauseous. “It seems like I’ve seen him before.”
“I’m sure you have,” she said. “He was in the same house as you at Hogwarts, but two years behind.”
Snape could picture it, picture the boy younger, smaller, not quite grown into his beauty in the Slytherin dorms, in the halls between classrooms, soft spoken, always quiet except that one day in the spring. He could hear the boy’s voice, drifting across the school grounds as apple blossoms fell like snow from the trees. He was frantic, was crying, shouting at someone. What was he saying?
“Don’t cut me off, please. Please talk to me. I’m not them. I’m not like Mum and Dad. You’ll always be my brother, I love you Sirius.”
Snape sprang to his feet, dropping Bellatrix unceremoniously onto her bum.
“My God, that’s Regulus Black,” he cried accusingly. “Sirius’s little brother. He’s your cousin.”
“You’re being prudish again, Severus,” she scolded pulling herself to her feet with a grace and pride he felt she did not deserve to possess. “You don’t have a family of your own. You can’t begin to understand the tender feelings that exist between those who share the same blood, particularly when that blood is pure.”
“He’s a Death Eater?”
“He was given the Dark Mark just last night,” Bellatrix smiled now, and pushed up Regulus’ sleeve to reveal the Death Eater brand. The outlines of the skull and snake lay under the alabaster skin like he had been born with it.
Seeing it Snape remembered how his own Dark Mark had been created with needles and ink, blood and pain. How it had burned. His own initiation had been so hard, so excruciatingly painful. Lord Voldermort might as well have broken every bone in Snape’s body and reset them according to his own requirements. But for Regulus Black initiation had apparently been as smooth as silk and as painless as intoxication.
“Jealous dear?” Bellatrix laughed. “Of course you are. That’s what makes you such an asset. You’re an absolute wellspring of resentment and ill will. Anyone can point a wand and speak a word, but when you cast a curse they really feel it.”
Rodolphus was stirring now. He shoved Regulus off him and stood up.
“Snipe,” he said cheerfully. “You missed a lovely evening but I’m sure you were doing something terribly important.” Snipe was short for Guttersnipe, the nickname he’d given Snape when his wife first took an interest in the younger man as a potential Death Eater. Rodolphus had never made the slightest effort to hide the contempt he felt for Snape, for his heritage, his personality, his looks, and most recently for the work he did for Voldermort.
It was not that Lestrange had anything against torture or murder. It just suited him to regard Snape as little more than a magical goon. And Rodolphus was not alone among the pure-bloods in making sure Snape never forgot for a moment that he would be tolerated only so long as he proved useful.
“I got your message.” Snape said flatly. “What did you ask me here for?”
“I met with Lord Voldermort and the Inner Circle yesterday. I’ve been made the Secret Keeper of what we discussed and some of it needs to be passed along to you.” He sighed as if this was the most unpleasant task he could imagine. “Shall we get to it then?”
“Perhaps you could do me the extreme courtesy of getting dressed first.” Snape snarled. Bellatrix and her husband exchanged meaningful looks.
“Such a prig,” Rodolphus laughed. “All right, Snipe, we certainly don’t wish to offend your delicate sensibilities.”
He and Bellatrix disappeared into their bedchamber leaving Snape alone with Regulus who was either still sleeping or comatose. Snape picked up his hand; it was limp, his pulse weak and his breathing shallow. Worrisome.
Snape waved him wand over the boy. “Antiveno,” he pronounced. Immediately Regulus’ breathing normalized. The Lestranges’ were careless with their pretty things. For all his precious pure blood, they might have easily let the boy die of alcohol poisoning in their lovely library.
Snape looked at Regulus. He was so achingly beautiful. In the end that was what it really came down to. For all the jealousy and resentment Snape felt towards this Black prince and his easy path, he had helped Regulus because he was beautiful. Because Regulus Black was so lovely, there would always be someone to help him; whereas Snape was ugly and would always be on his own. He would always have to try harder, be better, go further and it would never be enough. He fit in with the Death Eaters as poorly as he fit in at Hogwarts, or in the Muggle world.
With a recklessness born of self-pity, loneliness and the sleepless horror of the night before, Snape bent down and kissed the sleeping Regulus Black on the lips. It was a chaste kiss, like a child might give. He simply pressed his closed lips to the boys. He was in no way prepared for Regulus’ lips to yield under his, opening into a dark intimacy, sucking him in.
Snape was 20 years old and he had never been kissed before. Loving Bellatrix had been about worshiping her. He would never have touched her. He had participated in sex acts but he was either flat on his face or forced to his knees. Never face to face like this, even beyond faces, beyond masks, inside the secret recesses of the self. He had built up many defenses in his brief and difficult life but none of them protected him now. He absolutely melted.
Still, he couldn’t turn off his logical mind. He realized Regulus was not kissing him, that most likely he thought it was Bellatrix or even Rodolphus. He would be disgusted when he realized; he would be angry. Snape drew back but the boy moved with him. Finally, with considerable difficulty, he tore himself away and steeled himself, nearly trembling, to face Regulus Black.
“I apologize…” he began but got no further. Regulus’ eyes were open now and they were as arresting as the kiss. They were the deep purple blue of violets, unspeakably beautiful, literally breathtaking. Then the boy smiled, a smile so guileless, so generous Snape understood he would not need to apologize.
“I remember you from school,” Regulus said. “Your name is Severus Snape. You were in my older brother’s year. We were in the same house. You always seemed sad.”
Snape knew with absolute certainty that it would be the worst thing he could do, the biggest mistake of his life to get tangled up in any way with another member of the family Black. Sirius had ripped him to shreds. Bellatrix had tidily collected those pieces and passed them along to Voldermort to be reassembled into the evil creature he scarcely recognized as himself. But this one, Regulus, promised to be the worst of them all. He reminded Snape that he still had a heart to be broken.
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