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The Ethereal	By : Tarpeia8 Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Snape/Lily Views: 11166 -:- 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.

Chapter List
- 1-Chapter 1
- 2-Chapter 2
- 1
- 2
Note: The Ethereal is dedicated to one of my anonymous readers, who expressed the wish to find out what might have happened if Lily had willingly joined Severus in his service to the Dark Lord in a misguided attempt to drive him away from the Dark side. This is my version of the events.
I would like to thank both my awesome beta, blue artemis, and my dear friend Almanera for their precious time and advice. I appreciate their help more than I can say.
A huge thank you as well to madcarrot - the unique artist who designed Augustus Rookwood's look and personality the way they are described in this story. She kindly allowed me to resort to her vision of this character. Her beautiful works may be found on Deviant Art.
Warning: violence, torture, explicit sexual content, hints of non-con... and dark, dark!Snape.
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Aligned in a semicircle, the black figures loomed in the light of the single torch, projecting long shadows upon the marble floor. Some among them still held their masks, which gleamed dully in their hands. A pallid figure stood in their center, its unusually thoughtful red eyes seeming to exude a glow of their own. The men, for once heedless of their master's example, had gone to no lengths to conceal their glee. There was ill will written on the face of the dark-haired Bellatrix, who waited on the Dark Lord's right, her lips pressed in a grim line. One would have said she was so absorbed in her bitter indignation that she had forgotten to display her contempt. Lucius had chosen a different attitude. His solemn, arrogant expression would have befitted the noblest of the pure-bloods forced to watch a gross Muggle pantomime. He towered over his colleagues, his gloved hands folded on the head of his walking stick.
Severus repressed a half-smile. The set-up was ready; the play could begin. He gently pushed against the small of the back of his companion, encouraging her to step forward. As she did so, she raised her bright green eyes to their avid faces.
Though she was wearing dark robes similar to those of her hosts, no one would have mistaken her for one of them. It was the extraordinary whiteness of her skin, inducing the impression that her delicate features were illuminated by inner light that made the contrast so striking. So did her heavy mane of red hair of rare beauty and, more than anything else, the peculiar aura of ease that surrounded her. Any person devoted to the Dark Arts would notice the difference at once – a difference Severus hardly ever sensed in other people's presence any more, but which rose to the surface of his mind whenever he set his gaze on her. This difference both disturbed and fascinated him.
He knew the Dark Lord had felt the same emotion. The scarlet eyes briefly met his black ones before refocusing on the angelic frame, scrutinizing her. They conveyed mild surprise equally due to his guest's innocence and to Severus' choice of pet. He discerned the slightest hint of threat in their depths as well. This he had foreseen.
"Miss Evans." The hiss, soft and quiet as it was, filled every nook in the hall. The black figures remained still; only the excited glint in their eyes allowed distinguishing them from statues. Lily calmly gazed back.
"Welcome. It is gracious of you to honor us with your presence. My faithful Death Eaters and I have been longing to make your acquaintance."
Severus could not tell for certain whether she had grasped the Dark Lord's irony or detected the imperceptible widening of his colleagues' predatory smiles. Lucius' stony mask did not falter. Bellatrix's face, however, seemed to shrink and crumple in distaste as if she had tasted pure lemon juice.
The Dark Lord waved his hand in a majestic gesture. "Allow me to introduce you more properly to our allies, for even though they've heard much of your skill, they are still regrettably ignorant of your achievements."
No one laughed at his words. They knew what was going to happen; the air was vibrating with thrill and anticipation.
Lily approached gingerly while the imperious voice resumed its susurrus, "To those of you who do not know, Miss Lily Evans is one of Hogwarts' finest graduates in the last decade. She has shown a prodigious ability in the art of Charms, Transfiguration and Potion making, and has since then honored the name of witch as well as her… family." The chalky lip curled, shaping the heavily connoted word, and sparse yet undisguised snickers broke out among his followers. "Thanks to Severus, Miss Evans has become aware of our mission: a dignified society consisting of pure and worthy witches and wizards, purged of all that can endanger it. She accepted it for her own, despite and in defiance of the so-called Order of the Phoenix, which she has rightfully abandoned." Lily's hand twitched as the last word echoed through the spacious hall. The Dark Lord's pause was a second longer than necessary. "She consented to join us for tonight's festivities. Hopefully, it is the first night of many more to come."
This time, the ominous implication of the phrase did not escape her notice. Severus watched the rosy blush that had formed upon her cheeks at the mention of the Order fade, leaving her skin as white as alabaster. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted a movement amidst the cloaked figures and turned his head toward the disturber. Pettigrew. The Animagus had shifted a little, his agitation obvious in his tense posture and his too-tight grip on his mask. He started at Lily as though she were a phantom. So he did not approve of her joining the Dark Lord. Severus all but sneered.
His master was presently walking around his "guest" in small circles.
"Would you agree to tell us exactly why you decided to seek my guidance, Miss Evans?"
Lily swallowed, and he knew she wished she could look at him for comfort or reassurance. Naturally, she did no such thing. When she spoke, her voice floated in the hall like a strange melody.
"You are the greatest wizard the world has ever borne. Your power is boundless, and so is your wisdom; you have seen every aspect of our world and discovered its imperfections. It took me time to perceive your vision in all its richness and depth, but now I do, and I truly share it – it is my ambition to allow the witches and wizards to reclaim their due place in the society after the dark centuries of their hiding. I promise I have both the skill and the determination to make the change happen."
Her voice wavered at this point, and she drew a ragged breath, her body contracted with revulsion for her own speech, even though she had not composed it. Still, she had done rather well. The Dark Lord's eyes assessed her with a detached intensity.
"And are you fully aware of the magnitude of your commitment? Do you realize that once you have placed your life in my hands, nothing but death will release you from your vow?"
"Yes," she whispered.
His gaze was boring into hers, but it was devoid of its habitual force. He did not want her to summon her mental defenses, although he had already appraised her predisposition for Occlumency and justly concluded it was insignificant.
"Are you willing to do anything for our cause?" he asked softly, rounding her once more.
"Yes."
"Would you risk your life at my command?"
"I would."
"Would you suffer torture at my command?"
"I would."
"Would you sacrifice your life at my command?"
"I would."
She had started to shiver, though. Severus was sure droplets of sweat had broken out on her brow.
"Would you kill at my command?"
Her trembling intensified, but there was no hesitation in her answer, which rang out clear and assertive, "No."
Slowly, the Dark Lord came to stand in front of her. His glacial expression was frightening to behold. After a few seconds of silence, Lily exhaled, "I'm not willing to hurt, injure or kill anyone, even for the cause. It would ruin the whole point of the 'better society.' And even if it didn't, I couldn't bring myself to do it."
The hall erupted into thundering laughter. Jeers rained from every side, making the flush return to her cheeks. Lucius contented himself with a disdainful smirk, as did old Nott. One other person did not scoff, however. Severus narrowed his eyes at Pettigrew's uncommonly wan face. He wondered for how long the rat would manage to stay in the Dark Lord's good graces before his gutlessness and blatant lack of enthusiasm tired their master out. Probably for as long as they would need a spy in the Order, he snorted inwardly. This would not take long.
The Dark Lord did not join in the general amusement, and he never tore his eyes from Lily's.
"What can you bring yourself to do?" he asked quietly as soon as the clamor died down. The menace in his tone was nearly material; there was no mistaking it.
"I can serve any magical – or non-magical – task you would require," she assured him. "I can brew potions and perform many spells. But I can't use Dark magic. It's the only exception."
He considered her. His icy gaze shifted beyond her head and focused on the black crowd, switching from one follower to another as though he were setting his mind. At last, he gave a subtle nod.
Rabastan attacked as promptly as an eagle. A stream of silver light darted from his wand, hitting Lily in the back and sending her flying over ten yards further. In spite of her shock and pain, she recovered with a stunning agility, heaving herself up on aching, unsteady feet in only a few seconds, her wand drawn. She easily deflected Rabastan's next spell and cast a protective shield around herself.
Curses shot at her without respite. The fifth of them succeeded in breaking through her defense. No sooner had her magic barrier dissipated that a fiery explosion boomed through the air, the force of Rabastan's Blasting Curse causing the floor to crack open between them. Lily was able to evade it before it had reached her, and in the remnants of the smoke produced by the detonation, she conjured a thick jet of red light, which Rabastan instantly blocked with a wave of his hand. His next spell took the form of a fumy black serpent, sinister in its smooth slither above the ground. She resorted to a simple charm to brighten the apparition up until it burst.
Severus absently ran his fingers up and down the hilt of his wand. His colleagues had orders to test her abilities and endurance without harming her too severely; at this point, however, it was difficult for any wizard to control the extent of his power. Should she be in danger, it would be up to him, not the Dark Lord, to prevent permanent damage. But he doubted it would come to this so soon. A hint of pride made his mouth curve in a smile.
Meanwhile, beams of orange light soared across the hall, spreading in all directions. Nimble like a cat, Lily threw herself aside to dodge them, the incantation for the Tentaclifors Jinx ready on her lips. Rabastan drove it off as one would brush away a fly, and it bolted toward the nearby standing group of Death Eaters, who only had a second to part. Crabbe was not quick enough; the spell crashed into his face with full force. At the sight of his head transforming into a tentacle, a fit of laughter broke out among the men, and it took them more than a moment to move and release him. With a discreet chuckle, Severus transferred his attention back to the red-headed beauty.
An unmistakable rustling noise was filling their ears. The entire assembly stiffened, a collective, eager intake of breath escaping their chests. He watched as Lily froze in her tracks and fixed a distrustful gaze on her adversary, who was muttering a spell, a wicked smirk on his lips. A gigantic flame spurted out of the tip of his wand, endless, deadly. It unfolded in the air, its shape that of an immense chimaera. The roar that ensued made the mansion's foundations quiver. The monster's heads were rising higher and higher to contemplate their victim, the snake-like tail hissing and undulating, the horrible nostrils spitting flames and smoke.
Amazed, Lily stared up at the beast for a dozen seconds, not collecting herself until a pair of fiery jaws snapped alarmingly close to her body. She had never been confronted with Fiendfyre before, this much was certain. The spectacle promised to be entertaining. Backing away, she swiftly flicked her wand, producing a stream of water she flung in vain at the approaching creature. The lion head only roared more furiously. She was now running away, striving to avoid the dark flames, but there was nowhere to hide. The black figures would not let her slip out of the circle they had formed around the dueling couple, and Rabastan's will kept the chimaera from pouncing on them, inciting it to concentrate its murderous compulsion on Lily alone. The girl dove to the ground, protecting her head from another massive billow of fire. Just as the hideous muzzle came nearer and Severus gripped his wand, prepared to intervene, she cast a new spell. It was a Cascading Jinx, such a potent one that it impelled the beast to pull away and turn on the spot. It mutated within the wink of an eye.
In the chimaera's place was now hovering a flaming vulture. It spread out its wings the size of flying carpets and emitted a blood-curdling screech. The distraction gave Lily several precious seconds to scramble to her feet. A glimmer of hope, however, seemed to pass across her features when she saw the magical bird. Her eyes alight with confidence; she raised her wand and mumbled a soundless formula. At once, a rope of turquoise sparks sprouted from the floor to twine around the vulture, spiraling up, but never tightening itself around the fire. Then all of a sudden, the creature's talons sank into the ground. It battered its wings in rage, ejected shrieks and flames, but the blue beams did not give away; they held it in place as securely as any cage.
A variation of the Orbis Jinx, powerful Earth magic, Severus thought, impressed and more than a little unsettled. Judging from the gasps and whispers he could hear in the crowd, he was not the only one caught off guard. His eyes wandered to the Dark Lord, who observed the duel off to his side. The crimson gaze was utterly void of emotion.
The stone floor was splitting beneath the bird, which contorted in its trap, unable to free itself. Rabastan's cloaked frame flashed in their visual field, his wand pointed at the body of Fiendfyre. The mass of magic took a whole minute to fade into nothing, and simultaneously, the blue sparks went out. From the last tongues of flame, Evan Rosier stepped out, his wand hand outstretched.
The first part of Lily's test was over – she had been forced to display her talent for charms and jinxes, and it had proven to be more considerable than any of them had expected. At present, she was going to be subjected to mind-affecting spells – dark, perilous magic. The kind the Death Eaters valued the most.
Severus cleared his thoughts and set his attention on Lily's feelings, relaxing his body, loosening everything but the lucidity of his consciousness. He did not truly intend to invade her mind and further exhaust her when she needed all her strength to protect herself, but he deemed it useful to establish a one-sided Legilimency bond between them to better understand her way of reasoning. He was positive the Dark Lord would do the same.
Rosier's spell produced no light, though the instant the incantation left his lips, the tell-tale signs of the Cheering Charm expanded in Lily's spirit. Carefreeness and gaiety were clouding her vigilance, chaining it, lulling it. Her inner struggle was extraordinary to witness. She brusquely shook herself out of the perfidious reverie before it could engulf her, repressing the urge to smile – an effort that took most of her self-control. For a short while, the hand holding her wand dropped slightly, the wrist gone slack. It was only the Death Eaters' mocking laughter that caused her to wake from this malign stupor. Once more, she collected herself, ready to fire a Disarming Charm at Rosier, which he blocked lazily, responding with a Dark spell.
The new sensation was as uncomfortable as the previous one had been pleasant. A dreadful realization was creeping into her mind, tormenting her like a half-forgotten memory: she could not remember why she was fighting. She recalled having come to the Manor to join the Dark Lord, yet here she stood, pitted against one of the most loyal Death Eaters. With no notion of what had triggered their confrontation.
The Confundus Charm was a pearl among spells, Severus mused contentedly. It was simple to perform, hard to detect, and impossible to surmount. His Lily was no more resistant in this respect than most of their victims.
Rosier maintained the charm long enough to make her lose her wary posture and elicit a fresh burst of chuckles from the circle of men, then let it off as abruptly as he had cast it. The young Gryffindor turned scarlet with anger at the jibes at her expense. She adopted a defensive stance again, but did not hex him back. She appeared to be even more annoyed with herself than with her opponent.
Severus suspected what curse was coming next, and he closed his eyes to savor the contradictory emotions that were about to submerge her. He sensed Evan's whisper more than he heard it. Imperio.
Her head was swimming with euphoria again. Sweet satisfaction, harmony, and peace had taken possession of her. Somewhere in the recesses of her mind, a feeble voice was cajoling her into dropping to her knees and bowing to the Dark Lord. Rosier's astuteness was admirable, for he had chosen a subtle curse, one that did not instruct her to do anything outrageous or harmful. Nothing she would not be expected to do under the circumstances. But Lily did not rise to the bait. She distinctly felt that the idea was unnatural, extraneous, even degrading. She could not obey this impulse.
She had to, the irresistible voice insisted.
Absolutely not.
Just a bow, nothing more. It wasn't too hard, was it?
No, no, and no.
NOW!
Rosier's eyes gleamed as he poured all his will and vigor into the command, and Lily sank to the floor like a cut-down tree, her breathing shallow, her lips clamped together to muffle her whimper of pain. He sneered and nonchalantly twirled his wand in his hand, relishing her humiliation.
A face suddenly flickered through her mind: the Gryffindor colors, untidy black hair, a pair of hazel eyes framed by circular glasses. It was a memory, a powerfully happy one. He was looking at her, his gaze full of laughter and uncontainable feelings. They were in a teashop in Hogsmeade; the room's narrow windows were blurred with rain. Steam was rising from their mugs, but they paid no heed to their drinks. Their hands lay joined on the table.
Severus' eyes flew open. Frozen on the spot, he was dimly aware of the Legilimency connection between Lily and himself shattering while his concentration slipped away. A second later, a great silver shape of an animal – a doe – emerged from Lily's wand and darted at Rosier. The discountenanced Death Eater staggered, regaining his balance at the last moment – not without losing his wand. The dazzling magical animal circled around him once before disintegrating in thin air.
Unblinking, Severus stared at Lily's worn out form on the floor. His hand had clenched into a fist, and he pressed his wand between his fingers so hard that the slim piece of wood was threatening to snap. He knew exactly which charm she had used and what a tremendous amount of resolve was required to cast it successfully. Although he had never been able to produce one himself – none of his colleagues had ever been, not even the Dark Lord – he had read all about the shapes it could take. The Patronus was a magical condensation of one's most positive energy. And this was the memory she relived whenever she wished to feel joy. This was what she believed to be a 'happy' memory. Moreover, her Patronus assumed the form of a doe – the female antipode to a stag.
Very well.
It took all his willpower to subdue his rage. The Dark Lord had glimpsed the memory as well; Severus could feel the cold red eyes shifting on his face, scanning it for any sign of sentimentality. He inhaled deeply, then exhaled, uncurling his fingers. It would not help to make a fool of himself in front of his Lord, not to mention that in his twinge of jealousy, he had almost broken his wand. This was between him and Lily. He would deal with her soon enough.
Rosier's withdrawal back into the circle brought the redhead no relief, for another black figure stepped out: Dolohov, ever-forbidding and grim. Lily clutched her wand tighter but made no attempt to lift herself from the floor, her weariness so great that she could barely stir. Dolohov, however, held his wand down. He walked straight toward her, his features unfathomable.
For the first time, fright welled up in her eyes. Without hesitation, she sent a Revulsion Jinx in his direction, looking desolate when he deflected it fluently. The spells she fired next succeeded one another at a feverish rhythm, reflecting her panic: the Disarming Charm, the Stunning Spell, Incarcerous, even Ventus – a jinx that shot a blast of air against him, still to no avail. The closer he approached, the more frantic she grew. She eventually applied the Backfiring Jinx to him, only to realize that he had cast no spell that could backfire, but which was strong enough to propel her own body onto her back. And then he stood no more than five steps from her. Helpless and defeated, she shut her eyes, squeezing her wand in her palm.
Lily's greatest weakness had finally been uncovered: she was incapable of attacking. Brilliant at countering curses, she was determined never to use them on her own, not even against the people she feared and despised. This trait rendered her practically useless in the duels and raids to come. Just as Severus had hoped.
With an inaudible Expelliarmus, Dolohov disarmed her and tossed her wand away. Hovering over her broken frame, his own wand aiming at her chest, he looked up at the Dark Lord. The crimson eyes flashed in response.
In a heartbeat, Lily was screaming in pain. She writhed and twisted, desperate to avoid the invisible blades and fire on her skin.
The breathing in the hall had sped up. Severus caught a sight of Bellatrix literally bouncing at Lucius' side, her nostrils dilated, her breasts rising and falling precipitously in her corseted cleavage. He rolled his eyes. Pettigrew, he noticed, was far from enjoying the torture. His cheeks had turned sickly gray, and yet he seemed unable to tear his eyes off Lily. It was difficult to tell if he was becoming faint-hearted, or if he entertained a secret affection for her. One day, Severus promised himself earnestly, he would Crucio him to death.
The men gave him curious glances that transformed into ones of approval when he did not as much as tense up. Lucius' expression made him pause, though. The blond wizard had hardly quitted his haughty posture during all evening, but the keen, sadistic glint in his silvery orbs was more than eloquent. Both smirked as their gazes met. For once, the understanding between them was absolute.
By the time Dolohov released Lily from the curse, she had nearly screamed her voice away. Rosier gave her no room for recovery: his Cruciatus was as quick and vicious as his predecessor's. Her cries of agony reverberated off the walls. In her fruitless wriggling, she had let her robes and skirt slide up, unconsciously uncovering her creamy flesh. It attracted Severus' eyes like a large magnet. He found himself gazing fixedly at the soft skin shining against the dark cloth, and a wave of arousal pervaded his senses. The anguish, the tears, none of those distressed him any more. He had learned to cope with them a long time ago, before he had rebelled against his father's brute tyranny and paid him back. Slowly and painfully.
Rabastan made short work of his victim. With her voice gone and her muscles as rigid as stone, it was all Lily could do to twitch under the curse. Her eyes were no longer conscious; they resembled bottomless pits of pain, inhuman in their misery. Her endurance was at its limit. Mere minutes away from the thin barrier beyond which suffering and insanity became one, the Dark Lord gave a new, more pronounced nod. The red light of a Stunning Spell flared throughout the hall, passing through the girl's chest. It expelled the last remnants of energy from her pale body and left it limp on the floor in a tangle of black fabric and auburn curls.
The Dark Lord moved from his spot, heading for his throne-like chair in front of the assembly. Unhurriedly, he sat down, his look set on the Gryffindor. The silence was complete as he gazed down at her, his blazing eyes remarkably lively on his adamant face.
After an indefinite number of minutes, he raised them. The high-pitched voice spoke out a single word in a soft whisper, "Severus."
All the heads turned toward him. He straightened up and looked his master in the eye to let him know he was listening closely.
"Am I correct to assume that the Mudblood has volunteered to join me only to drive you away from my side?"
"Indeed, my Lord," he replied. "It is exactly what I've seen in her mind since she forsook the Order. She seems to blame herself for my allegiance to you and believes that she can gradually persuade me to betray our cause and return to 'the side of Light.'"
Muffled chortles resounded here and there, but no one was bold enough to laugh out loud. The conversation was much too serious.
"And," the voice went on silkily, "have you ever considered following the Mudblood's advice?"
The words of denial were ready on Severus' lips, but after a new glance at the snaky visage, he thought better of them. The Dark Lord was used to submission and humility; the banal reassuring phrases would not convince him nearly as well as a witty confession. In any case, it was better to be punished for insolence than disloyalty.
"I have considered it very carefully, my Lord," he declared with a shadow of a smile. "To my regret, the Order has proved rather… disappointing in its choice of members. They are reluctant to accept Dark wizards for followers."
Rookwood and Avery smiled at his audacious joke. The Dark Lord looked displeased, but not furious, which was a promising sign.
"I see," he hissed. "So you are unhappy with the Order's choice of wizards. Their selection of witches doesn't repel you, though, does it, Severus? Or you would have realized there are far worthier candidates for your carnal needs than this piece of Muggle filth."
For the second time in the night, the dark figures laughed in unison. Severus bent his head in deference.
"Nevertheless," the peevish expression had not left their master's features, "I am pleased you lured her from the Order. Mudblood though she is, undeserving to bear the name of witch, she might have caused unnecessary trouble under that old fool Dumbledore's orders. Her dubious talents should be put to a better use."
The excitement was mounting again; it was tangible around him. Bellatrix's demeanor radiated nervousness and jealousy – not that he would have expected any rationality from the deranged woman. He had not missed the way Pettigrew's shoulders had slumped as if in exasperation when Lily's true motives had been revealed.
"Do not get me wrong," his Lord noted menacingly. "She will never receive the Dark Mark. But as long as she may be used against the Order" – the red eyes drilled into the broken body – "she will be used."
This was no surprise to any of them. The idea of Lily wearing the Dark Mark was as ludicrous as presuming that Lucius would someday donate his fortune to a Muggle orphanage.
Severus had made his decision. This was the right moment to voice his request, the moment he had been waiting for for so long.
"If you wish to utilize the Mudblood's abilities, my Lord," he said, drawing all the attention to himself, "it might be convenient to brand her with a particular mark, that of subservience. It would give you full control over her actions without any risk. She would be unable to use magic except to serve you and you only." He paused to give them more room for reflection, picturing in his imagination the small, snake-like tattoo he was referring to. "Once it leaks out that she is working for us, the Order will be devastated, especially Dumbledore and her precious Marauders – she is the last person they would have expected to switch sides. It will be an irremediable blow to their morale, as much as to her own. She thinks she can fool us and drive us apart. In reality, all she will gain is scorn and rejection on both sides."
The silence persisted as his suggestion was being digested. The Dark Lord watched him impassively. It was Rodolphus who reacted first.
"She is a Gryffindor." His nose wrinkled slightly at the word. "How can you be certain she won't choose to die rather than play along?"
"We won't allow her this luxury. There are curses that can prevent her from harming herself. Besides, she won't give up hope on my conversion so easily – it will be only too simple for me to manipulate her into obedience." Severus turned his look back to the chalky face. "If you see it fit, my Lord, let me keep the Mudblood. I will see that she carries out every single one of your orders and helps our cause in all respects. I will keep her pliant… and give her everything she deserves." The dark inflection of his voice made it crystal clear as to what he thought she merited.
The glowing eyes narrowed. He felt them dig into his, penetrate him to the core. He did not resist; on the contrary, he summoned his memories, liberated his strictly controlled emotions. He showed everything: the pain he had endured during his childhood, the humiliation he had struggled to avoid at school, his hatred of the Marauders, his tenderness for Lily, which had rapidly escalated into longing, then obsession, then hurt, then resentment, then a cold, vengeful desire and an all-consuming lust. Also the understanding and fulfillment he had found with his colleagues, and his devotion to their master. Last but not least, the countless things he intended to do to Lily once she was his.
The Dark Lord pulled out of his mind, and they locked gazes. It was as though their surroundings had vanished around them while they measured each other up, all the barriers between them gone. In the end, the lipless mouth curled in a malevolent sneer, and Severus knew he had won.
"If I were to grant your wish," his master enunciated slowly, "if I were to mark her as my servant, it would be essential that she willingly submit herself to the ritual. It will be your task to entice her to walk into the trap."
"Yes, my Lord."
"Very well." The Dark Lord shifted in his chair, his voice suddenly turning frosty. "She is under no circumstances to ever contact the Order. If indeed you want to take responsibility for her, you will keep her under constant supervision. The consequences, should you disobey or lose control, will be… everlasting."
"I won't fail you, my Lord," Severus promised unblinkingly.
The pallid creature nodded once, then directed its leer sideways.
"Wormtail!"
The Animagus started and hastily tried to recompose his miserable expression into a more neutral one.
"As soon as the Mudblood is branded, you will inform the Order of her betrayal. You will say precisely what I'll tell you."
Pettigrew gave a nod.
"Avery and Mulciber will make sure you forget none of my instructions."
The two Death Eaters flashed malicious grins at the ex-Marauder, who nodded again, looking more miserable than before.
His law laid, the Dark Lord cast a Reviving Spell upon Lily. In the first seconds, she did not budge, content to suck in large gulps of air. Then she attempted to raise her sore limbs, and a tortured whimper gathered in her throat. Severus approached to help her rise to her feet. She all but collapsed against him.
"You did well, Miss Evans," the Dark Lord said dispassionately. "I will be most pleased to welcome you as the newest member of my trusted circle if you decide to join me. You have one week to settle on your future."
He swept the hall with one last glare, concluding the meeting. "Selwyn, introduce our guest to her new friends and colleagues. See that she is accommodated and made comfortable and refreshed."
The master of the house acquiesced and moved to comply. Voices and murmurs erupted, the crowd beginning to thicken around them. The Dark Lord Disapparated.
With an encouraging embrace and a kiss on her forehead, Severus released the red-headed girl so that Selwyn could shake her hand while showering her with the conventional courtesies. He retreated from the cluster of black cloaks and watched as they engulfed her. She still swayed slightly, looking only half-conscious and more than dazed by the introductions that rained at her.
"Congratulations," Lucius' voice drawled from behind him.
The blond pure-blood had reached him, positioning himself at his right. His gloved fingers were clenched tight around the silver top of his walking stick.
Severus acknowledged him with a nod.
"You've wanted this for long, haven't you?"
"Mmm."
Lily was being presented to Alecto and Bellatrix, the latter of whom was utterly unsuccessful at hiding her venom as cleverly as her fellow.
"I'm sure she'll make a pleasing pet," Lucius commented.
His gray eyes turned obliquely toward the black-haired wizard.
"That's what she is to you, isn't it? You do not intend to go further. Refuse a proper marriage for her sake, or make her the mother of your heirs."
Naturally. Lucius would not be Lucius if he did not preach his elitist principles now and then.
"I will if I choose to," Severus answered evenly.
From the blond man's countenance, it was plain that the retort had been expected. The fair eyebrows arched.
"And have you actually given a thought to your children's future? Have you any idea what their prospect of social status and career would be if they had a Mudblood for a mother? When the Dark Lord takes over the Ministry, do you know how delicate—"
He really was in no mood for this.
"Thank you, Lucius," he interrupted, his gaze lingering on Lily.
"You know best, of course," the pure-blood snapped in a hiss, and his robes swished in the air as he stalked away.
It was presently time to enter the adjacent dining room, where meals and beverages were awaiting them. Selwyn offered his arm to Lily, skillfully masking his contempt. The dark figures followed behind. Severus caught up with Mulciber and Amycus, who strode at the very end of the file.
"Well, aren't we lucky?" Mulciber remarked with feigned envy, solely for his and Carrow's benefit. "She is delicious. May I have a go?"
"No."
"And in a week?"
"No."
"And in a month?"
"No."
"Hairy-hearted miser."
Severus snorted, mildly amused.
The vast dining hall was filled with a multitude of round tables enchanted to rotate every quarter of an hour, which permitted the guests to feast on various dishes without having to move a single inch. Multi-colored fairies were flying beneath the ceiling, carrying miniature lanterns. The air was saturated with the scent of flowers.
Stupefied to the point of numbness, Lily barely noticed the glass of champagne Selwyn shoved into her hand as he stole away, leaving her to face the Death Eaters on her own. She was instantly surrounded by four men, who started proposing equivocal, sinister-sounding toasts.
Severus took a glance around him. There was one person he needed to speak to. He spotted him in one of the darker corners, motionless in a halo of smoke. The man's amber eyes shone out like Galleons on his pasty face half-concealed by strings of oily brown hair. His pinstripe wizarding suit and clean robe clashed strangely with his sleazy aspect.
Augustus Rookwood gave Severus a piercing look and calmly knocked ashes off his cigarette while his colleague came closer. Neither said a word for a minute. Side by side, they observed the other black silhouettes disperse around the room.
The Unspeakable broke the silence first. "What's her happy memory?"
"Potter." It was a challenge not to spit the name out like a particularly offensive swearword.
Rookwood exhaled another swirl of smoke.
"Does she love you?"
"Well enough to have abandoned her friends at my request."
"It might as well be the feeling of guilt. Or compassion. They're different things. You know how adept Gryffindors are at them."
Severus crushed a piece of pumpkin bread in his hand, feeling it pulverize between his fingers. How gratifying it would be to do the same to his rival's bones. However, there was no point in denying the obvious, no matter how badly it infuriated him.
"If she doesn't love me now, she will eventually," he stated coldly.
Rookwood considered this and nodded.
"Does she enjoy sleeping with you?"
Though the questions provoked an unbearable burning sensation in Severus' chest, he knew better than to evade them. Augustus' shrewdness and lucidity were rare qualities even among the Death Eaters. None else of them could be spoken to so directly.
"Yes. But I have restrained myself so far."
The man threw him a puzzled glance that could almost be mistaken for one of sympathy, but said nothing. Unlike their fellows, he neither condemned Severus' preferences nor tried to dissuade him from pursuing Lily; he understood exactly what attracted the younger Death Eater to the green-eyed witch, aside from her beauty.
Kind, gentle and loving to the last fiber of her being – an ethereal soul par excellence – she was the complete opposite to everything they stood for. Her grace was just one of the many reflections of her inner purity. And this was what Severus longed to possess. Since the day he had subconsciously perceived the girl's innocence as a child, he had felt an irresistible pull toward her, unable to smother the numerous emotions she awakened in him: enchantment, elevation, and, most disturbingly, shame. If this pull had not diminished with the years, it had taken on an angry, embittered new edge: the wish to subdue. He wanted to torture her to the ultimate point where she would be forced to descend from her pedestal and seek him out as her only solace. He wanted to punish her for all the pain she had caused him when she had offered her love to another man. And if his vindictive passion destroyed her in the process, he would at least be free.
"She is the right one for you," Rookwood commented, eyeing the slim Gryffindor. "Even a blind man could tell. The question is: is it true the other way around?"
"You philosophize too much, Augustus," Severus grumbled through clenched teeth.
The other pulled deeply on his cigarette and expelled the smoke with a sigh of boredom, eyelids closed. Then, despite the indifference he displayed, a sly grin made its way up to his features.
He let the stub vanish between his dirty-nailed fingers and turned to leave.
"By the way," he added smoothly, "I would watch out for the rodent if I were you."
Both looked at Pettigrew, who was shuffling a few tables from Lily, his glower betraying his determination to talk to her.
"Do me a favor and invite him for a strip poker session," Severus suggested darkly. "And do not let him go until you've stripped him out of his spotty skin."
Rookwood strode away with a chuckle. It was common knowledge that he never lost at games.
As Severus moved toward Lily, he fixed his gaze on Pettigrew's beady eyes, which stared back at him with an expression of utmost outrage. Strong with the Dark Lord's promise, he sneered, sending all his triumph and glee right into the man's mind. And was rewarded when the pathetic spy spun on his heels and swept from the hall.
Lily's hand was stiff around her untouched flute. Setting her champagne on the table, he embraced her. She slumped in his arms like a lifeless mass, her relief so intense that he suspected she might burst into tears at any instant.
"You were incredible, my love," he whispered, cuddling her close. "So brave, so ingenious. I'm so proud of you. It's now over. I promise you'll never have to go through it again."
She gave no sign of having heard him.
Over her head, he glimpsed the back of Rookwood's robes in the adjoining chamber. The brunet was in the middle of an improvised handball with the Lestrange brothers. A sobbing nude Muggle girl was being roughly tossed between them instead of the said ball.
Perhaps it was better to take Lily home, to Spinner's End, where she would have a rest. She did not need to witness this side of the Death Eater meetings. Not yet.
* * * * *
Snowflakes were whirling in the frosty air. Dusk was settling, but there would be no gloom tonight. The dense coat of snow upon the roofs of the neighboring houses would illuminate the silent street long after the last glimmers of light would have died away.
She was standing at the window, seemingly immersed in the charm of the snowy waltz. From his place at the door, he was free to contemplate the gentle curves of her body, her striking mane of hair spilled across her back. The beauty of her hair fascinated him. It fell in heavy waves below her shoulders, similar to a turbulent sea of lava. Its color, however, was darker than lava or fire; it was a deep, luxurious shade of auburn he had seen nowhere else. He longed to slide his fingers through this flaming cascade, to plunge his face into this fragrant mass. But he needed to be patient. Her tranquil demeanor did not dupe him.
He clenched a freshly prepared cup of tea in his hand as he approached her. Feeling a light touch on her arm, she glanced up and offered him a small, half-hearted smile. It melted into the faintest frown of anxiety when he placed a kiss on her temple.
"I don't know if I can do it, Sev," she whispered, pressing the cup against her chest in an unconscious attempt to absorb its heat. "I'm afraid I'm not strong enough."
"I'll help you," he murmured. His lips brushed her ear in another kiss.
"I'll never be one of them," she confessed. "I can't perform Dark Magic, and even if I could… they'd still only see me as a Muggle-born."
"The Dark Lord wishes for you to become one of his followers, and so do they. They already respect you. Anyone who fails to treat you with consideration will have to deal with me."
She did not reply. He watched her raise the cup to her mouth and take a sip. The droplet of the green Calming Potion he had slipped into her tea minutes earlier had dissolved and was no longer perceptible. It had been barely larger than a tear, but it would be enough to relieve her. Pacify her. As he looked at her lips, at the curve of her pale neck, an all too familiar desire surged through his veins: the desire to fling her onto the mattress and fuck her until the bed broke underneath them, until she sobbed his name in an excruciating mixture of pleasure and pain, until her soft complexion was speckled with bruises and marks. He chased the idea away. LATER, he mentally growled at himself, clearing his mind. There was only one more week to wait. Then she would realize there was no way back, that there had never been a way back since she had crossed the doorstep of his house. It would not matter any more whether she did or did not believe she had been made for him; there would be no question of leaving him. And he would finally indulge in all his fantasies. He was not going to spoil his pleasure by rushing his actions at a whim.
With his arms wrapped around her waist and his chin propped against her shoulder, he gazed out of the window, waiting for her to finish her tea. Soon, she did, and he levitated the empty cup on the table without a single word or move. She remained pensive. He gave her one more moment to compose herself – the potion was slowly taking effect – before he bent his head to the base of her porcelain throat, where her neck met her shoulder. He began to run teasing kisses over the bare space of skin. To free himself from the violent craving that was still haunting him, he let his thoughts wander to another fantasy of his: the equally pleasant idea of ensnaring her senses with magic and voluptuousness, submitting her to his lust, making her his captive forever.
At first, Lily stiffened. It was only after he cupped her arms to massage them tenderly that her tense muscles relaxed ever so little. She turned and embraced him; yet the gesture was much more one of gratitude than desire. Severus could not but recall Rookwood's assumption, and he felt something rise inside him, thrashing and snarling in his chest. A most peculiar thought occurred to him: maybe he would not have this obsessive need to hurt her if only she loved him as much as he loved her. His hands twitched, and he brought himself to still and draw a shuddering breath. She did not notice. Good.
His features emotionless once again, he trailed his fingers up her back, letting them engulf themselves in her hair. They pulled her face closer to his, and for a brief instant, he banished all anger from his mind, reveling in the sensation of her soft, delicious lips against his own. She mirrored his caresses with a compelling shyness due, he was sure, to her unease and natural modesty rather than distaste. He started rubbing circles into her flesh through the thick fabric; he would not startle her by removing her clothes too hastily, oh, no – in fact, he would go no further until she asked him to. He knew she would eventually comply, if not out of desire, then out of her ridiculous Gryffindorish concept of guilt. His long fingers glided over her skin, fondling her in carefully chosen spots. His lips slid down her neck and shoulders and returned promptly to her mouth, which he recaptured with ravishment.
Long minutes had elapsed before he felt her ready to take off her robe. The time was propitious to lead her to the bed. She did not try to resist as he walked her backwards to the large four-poster, pausing for only the space of a heartbeat to imitate a respectful hesitation. He lowered her onto the sheets and settled beside her, heedless of his urge to cover her lean frame with his. In other circumstances, he would discard their clothes with a simple Vanishing Spell. For this once, however, he found it fitting to dispose of them by hand. It irked him to delay, to treat her like some sort of an eternal virgin – no matter how pure and chaste her soul was – but he intuited it would serve his purpose. Pacify her.
In truth, he loved resorting to magic during their intimacies. Levitation allowed creating extraordinary positions in mid-air, while spells and potions induced convenient stimulation… or torpor. Then there were myriads of mind-affecting charms, some of which he himself had designed. He always cast them when she looked away, unguarded and unaware of his ruse. And though the presence of his Dark magic never eluded her notice, it was impossible for her to prove he was the cause of her discomfort. He would smile innocently at her probing pout and kiss her more passionately than before.
Her body was beyond lovely. He could not imagine he would ever need another one – or fail to invent new ways to use it, if it came to that. The ivory breasts heaved in a slightly uneven rhythm, the nipples hard and enticing. His finger traced a line between them, venturing up to contour each of the two delicate buds of flesh before he stooped down to titillate them with his tongue. She responded at once, her hands grazing at his shoulders in a light stroking motion. This incentive alone was enough to undermine his self-control, and frenzied with lust, he braced himself atop her, devouring her lips without any more restraint. He had resolved not to coax her into a new position tonight. The only spell he would apply would be Imperius, a subtle hint of it. Faint enough not to be recognized as one, it would nonetheless impel her to pleasure him with her sweet mouth. The vague veil of euphoria that invariably accompanied the curse would only do her good. He knew she would give him the favor freely if he voiced his desire, but he wanted her to believe the idea had arisen in her own mind.
Lily did not disappoint. Halfway through their kiss, she softly pushed at his chest, making him turn onto his back. Her hair tickled his sides while she kissed her way down his abdomen. And suddenly a vision, as clear as sunlight, sprang before his hooded eyes: her bare figure chained to a wall in his cellar. A moan escaped his throat, leaving his spirit on edge, and his body in fever. Her slender fingers brushed against his member, soon followed by her lips. He was aroused to the point of giddiness as he let the fantasy flow. She was on her knees on the damp floor with her hands tied behind her back. Her eyes were enormous with terror, and they leaked abundant tears, which felt warm and itchy on his pubes. He slammed into her whimpering mouth, his hand steely in her hair. Each thrust drew a muffled cry from the bloodless lips, and the sound fueled his excitation, making his lust explode in powerful waves of heat and ecstasy. Her beautiful face twisted in a burst of sobs – she suffocated, but he would not loosen his hold until she licked him clean. They both were acutely aware that it was merely a beginning.
A stifled lament, far too real to be a part of his phantasm, jolted Severus into alertness. He squinted down his torso through eyelids heavy with bliss. Lily's face lay buried in his lap; he was clutching her head in a viselike grip, impaling her on his still-inflated erection. She clenched her fists and groaned quietly under the pressure, for she could not disengage herself without hurting him. He had gotten carried away. The fool. In seconds, he had her released and was cradling her in his arms. The look on her face almost caused him to curse his imprudence aloud.
After he had carefully laid her on the pillow, he proceeded to kiss her hands and cheeks, whispering humble apologies: he had acted like a selfish bastard, he would never do this again, he was so sorry.
"It's nothing." Her weak smile only drove him to double his attentions. "You know," she said quickly, "it means I can make you lose control. Who else can say as much?"
He resumed his caresses with a grateful kiss on her palm, but inside, he was seething. Plain brilliant. He had frightened her. Not that she would show her true emotions, not that she would blame him – she was too Gryffindorish, too self-sacrificing, too good for her own good. But his oversights were not forgivable. The Dark Lord had made it unambiguously clear that she was to join him of her own free will. All would be vain if he marred her judgment in the slightest. And mar it he would if he couldn't keep his desires under control for a damn week.
There would be no more slips, he swore to himself, deadly calm. None at all.
The brilliant green gaze met his own. It did not take Legilimency to discern the poorly concealed hurt and fear in its depths. He knew what to do. Cautiously, he leaned forward until his lips touched her pale forehead. The moment she felt his fond kiss, devoid of its usual hunger, some of the tension in her body subsided. He closed his eyes and focused on her memory of his very last climax, on the pleasure she had given him without even realizing she had been forced to. Magic coursed through his limbs, tremendous yet supple. Now was the time.
Obliviate.
There was one tiny sigh, and her apprehensive features became smooth. She was touching him again. He looked in her warm, caring eyes, and unexpectedly, his lips pulled in a shadow of a smirk. With another lingering kiss on her mouth, he plunged into her. It was as delectable as he had anticipated. This time, he did not allow himself to lose his wits in pointless imaginings. He kept his gaze locked on her large orbs, so lucid yet mysterious, and concentrated on the softness of her hands caressing his back, the delightful firmness of her nipples beneath his chest, the silkiness of her skin against his. They came at the same instant and collapsed into one another's arms as the sweet exhaustion overwhelmed them.
The snow was falling densely. Shadows flashed upon Lily's white torso, her thoughtful face. She was facing him; her look, however, was aimed at something far beyond his form, and she did not seem to notice that he was studying her intently, taking in every detail: the way her lashes fluttered, the lonely strand of hair crawling across her neck. A rapid flick of Legilimency would suffice to unveil her thoughts without disturbing her reverie. He pushed into her mind, discreet and slithery.
She was thinking of the Order. The majority of her fellow Gryffindors had joined Dumbledore to fight the Dark Lord. She recalled the former students she had once been so attached to and wondered how different her life would be, had she chosen to stay with them rather than follow Severus. Had she accepted Potter's proposal.
Potter. If the rumors reported by Pettigrew could be trusted, Lily's rejection had left him heartbroken, though by no means discouraged. Oh, well. The arrogant prick had not yet been made aware that his beloved Lily, now his nemesis's lover, would shortly swear allegiance to the Dark Lord. And if this did not deter him, Severus would be happy to pay him a visit with three or four of his colleagues. They would bring Pettigrew to tell them the exact location of Potter's domicile, and they would leave a lush and shiny Dark Mark above the indicated house. If Black or the werewolf happened to be present, all the better.
"Why did you join them?"
His eyes shot to hers, and he hesitated for a second before grasping the meaning of her question. She was preparing to attack. He repressed a smile, setting his features into hard, solemn lines.
"I belong with them."
She gazed at him without a word.
"Why did you join them?" he inquired gently.
"To be with you." She reached up and timidly squeezed his hand.
He pulled her in an embrace. Her hair spilled across his arm, and he stroked it, watching her engaging face that lay inches from his.
"But it's hard," she whispered.
"I know."
She buried her head in the crook of his neck. A few more minutes passed in silence.
"Do you really share their beliefs?" The words were muffled but distinct.
"For the large part. It's not all about the ideology, though. There is more to them than the pure-bloods' propaganda and the Dark Arts."
"Boundless magic, and power, and wisdom," she mumbled.
"Exactly."
"I understand."
He wanted to chuckle.
"But don't you sometimes get the impression that you might be happier if you weren't a part of their group?" Her voice sounded softer than usual. He supposed it was the closest she would ever come to manipulation.
"I can't imagine being happier than I am now." He pressed her tight against his chest to emphasize his statement.
She only sighed in response. "You know, I could be content with just your love. I don't need anything else to make me happy."
"If we lived in a different world, I would claim the same," he assured her.
It was a lie, of course. Dark magic was so deeply embedded in his personality that he would not consider leaving his Lord or abandoning his Death Eater role no matter the social climate. Lily and the Dark Arts were precisely what he needed for a satisfactory life. Never mind that they were absolute opposites.
He went on nonetheless, "But at a time like this, we can't isolate ourselves from the wizarding world without being forced into hiding. War is coming, and everyone will have to choose their side. We would always be prosecuted by one of the two parties. Besides, isn't it our duty to support those we believe to be right?"
She argued no more. The conversation had led to a dead end, and to transcend it, she would have to admit how precarious – if not non-existent – her faith in the Death Eaters' cause was. A while later, she fell asleep, lulled by his touch, and still under the influence of his Calming Draught.
Severus played with a strand of her hair, listening to her serene breathing. He knew she would try again the next day, and the following day, and the day after the following day. He was going to enjoy her sweet attempts at persuasion. She would soon realize they were utterly futile, and that she had badly miscalculated when she had renounced the Order's protection. But it would be too late. She would never be able to escape him.
A dark smile curved his lips as he gently smoothed her locks.
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The Ethereal