Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Madrigal	By : Rotisserie_Cassowary Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Snape/Hermione Views: 7982 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 22
- 23
- 24
As I swept into Malfoy Manor, I frantically pulled up my Occlumency shields. I knew they’d be weakened from the wine and my heightened state of arousal. It was New Years’ Eve, so I berated myself for not expecting the Dark Lord to call a revel. Of course the Death Eaters would want to “party” tonight, I scoffed. I was one of the last to arrive and knelt in my designated spot in the inner circle. His followers certainly have swelled, I observed, counting over a dozen new bodies in the second and third circles.
He reclined in the center of the ring, ensconced in a Baroque armchair that had probably cost more than my entire house. His legs were propped up on the back of one of the four muggles who cowered in the fetal position before him. Two of them were teenage girls, a few years younger than Hermione. A beautiful, delicate little boy of about twelve was trembling in the arms of a gorgeous, darkly-exotic young woman. Sick with dread, I focused on my white room, allowing its serenity and light to suffuse my thoughts.
After we had all arrived, the Dark Lord raised his hand for silence and began to speak. I was keeping my thoughts carefully contained, so I only caught bits and pieces of what he said. It was a rather long speech, obviously meant to be inspiring to us. Cheers and hoots of approval rang out from the crowd with regularity. He began to call individuals to step forward and remove their masques, announcing their names, and alternately berating them for their failures or praising their successes. He finished by announcing Yaxley’s full name, indicating the empty spot in the circle that had belonged to him.
“Let the absence of our friend Mister Yaxley be a warning to you all. He failed in a task I assigned him, due entirely to his own ignorance and carelessness. He is dead now. There wasn’t even enough left of him to send to his children,” he sneered, eliciting jeers from the audience. Interesting… I thought to myself, he’s making it sound like HE killed him, not that he died from his own error. I wonder how many other Death Eaters he’s claimed to have murdered in cold blood actually just got themselves killed with their own stupidity. I guess killing off your followers willy-nilly wouldn’t be a very effective long-term strategy for world domination, after all. Suddenly, He clapped his hands, silencing the group’s speculative whispers.
He indicated that the favored Death Eaters who had stepped forward should kick off the festivities by enforcing his displeasure on the others. The muggles screamed in fright as dozens of spells shot over their heads, giving the Dark Lord’s throne a wide margin. The embattled Death Eaters collapsed, some screaming in Cruciatus agony; others bound with ropes that were slowly choking the breath out them; some were silent with terrified expressions, clearly hallucinating horrifying scenarios; a few had faces so swollen from stinging jinxes that they were unrecognizable; one woman had been transfigured into some sort of giant, oozing slug; a man was rolling around and clawing at his skin frantically, screaming “Get it out! Get it out!”. This continued for an interminably long period of time. Eventually, the Dark Lord proclaimed that anyone else could join the fun now, so the outer circles surged forward, hungry with bloodlust.
I surrounded myself with a wandless shield charm, dispassionately watching the mayhem. A number of the other original Death Eaters had similar body language to my own, and I imagined their expressions, sneering with disdain at the newcomers, so eager to prove themselves. Hours later, every disfavored Death Eater had finally, blessedly, fallen unconscious. The game over, everyone fell back into line, feigning a return to law and order. But the air was thick with the scent of fear- blood, piss, and shit. Tension, lust, and barely-restrained violence simmered in the atmosphere. Masques were now fixing on the muggles, all of whom were unmoving, unblinking, paralyzed with fear.
The Dark Lord gave another lengthy, florid speech about the superiority of wizarding kind, the filthiness of Mudbloods, the inevitability of the strong consuming the weak, how much more powerful He was than any other wizard who had ever lived, how we would all be worshipped as gods… the usual tripe. He finished his monologue to thunderous cheers and chanting that shook the floors and made the enormous crystal chandelier sway ominously.
He named his officers, and they stepped forward for the “honors”. They stripped the clothes from the muggles by hand, laughing and taunting them the entire time. Bile welled up in my throat, and I swallowed repeatedly to keep from vomiting. The muggles held each other for comfort, weeping and begging for mercy. Bellatrix grabbed the boy, ripped off her masque, and attacked his mouth with her own, violating him aggressively with her tongue. Her husband forced the little blonde girl to her knees before him and yanked out his veiny, crooked dick. He smacked her in the face with it a few times before grabbing the back of her head and ramming it down her throat. She struggled and gagged while he mercilessly pounded her face. When she fell over, he straddled her head and continued fucking her mouth. Malfoy demurred from his task, indicating his wife’s presence in the circle. The Dark Lord sneered but nodded his consent.
Amycus Carrow stepped forward to take Malfoy’s place, gleefully ripping his robes from his colossal, lumpen body. He pushed the little red-headed girl to the ground, then flopped his enormous bulk on top of her. She struggled beneath his mass as he reached between them and shoved his little dick into her, having to lift his enormous stomach out of the way to do so. I cringed in disgust, and felt my balls trying to retract into my body.
Thorfinn Rowle approached the young woman slowly, stroking a strand of ebony hair out of her face in a skillful imitation of affection. He bent forward to whisper in her ear, and I knew he was telling her that if she cooperated and did everything he asked that he would spare her son. She nodded enthusiastically, desperately. He told her that she had to make him believe she wanted it, or the deal would be off. She grabbed at the front of his robes, practically ripping them open. She pulled out his enormous, angry-red member and gave him a look of shock. “Oh my god it’s so huge!” I could hear her crooning, flattering him, “I don’t know what I’m going to do with such an enormous cock! It’s so much bigger than my husband’s! I’m afraid it’ll rip me apart!” And she licked it from base to tip, staring up at his masked face lasciviously. She took his balls in one hand, massaging them expertly, as the other stroked him. She took as much in her mouth as she could, frenziedly trying to make him cum. Her burst in her mouth, and she swallowed it all, gagging slightly. To her obvious displeasure, his member remained swollen and ready. He’d apparently taken a performance enhancement potion. Frantic, she turned around on all fours and stuck her ass in the air, begging him to please fuck her with his giant dick. Jeers rose from the audience, and I could see dozens of Death Eaters beating off under their robes.
Rodolphus Lestrange had already come once, so he was furiously masturbating while watching his wife with the boy, trying to get it back up. Bellatrix was stroking the little boy’s penis now, and he looked horrified at his body’s response to her. Rodolphus finally achieved an erection and rolled the little girl onto her stomach. He pulled her hips up, plunging violently into her from behind. He alternated between her two openings, laughing and watching his wife as she straddled and raped the boy.
The boy’s mother had her eyes closed- too busy screaming in feigned pleasure to see what was happening to him. Rowle pulled out as he was coming, and shoved it in her ass, filling it with his seed. He pulled out and laughed triumphantly, spreading his jizz all over her crack with the head of his cock. He then plunged back into her ass, and she screamed, “Yes! More! More! Fuck me in the ass like a dirty whore!”
This went on for what felt like days, the four of them passing around the muggles like playthings. The woman’s spirit had been broken when she’d seen what had happened to her son. She was catatonic, staring blankly into space as she was tossed around like a rag doll. Eventually, the officers tired themselves out and threw the muggles to the rest of the wolves. The mass of Death Eaters fell into chaos, some shoving forward for their turn assaulting the muggles. Others started fucking each other, forming huge, undulating piles of flesh on the ground. The various orgies blended and merged with each other in a way that would have been mathematically interesting if it weren’t utterly revolting.
Fights broke out around the room as sexual and violent passions ignited. Soon the room stank of sweat and semen and piss, so I took my leave, following Lucius and his wife into the sitting room. I had spent years meticulously cultivating a reputation for performance-anxiety-related impotence, so I got jeers and catcalls as I left the room. I smiled under my masque, reveling in their ridicule. Mockery from those animals is as good as praise from Hermione, if you ask me. I took off my masque and proceeded to get mind-meltingly drunk with Lucius, and we stole a moment to have a whispered chat in the corner. By now music was blaring from every room, wizards who had left the orgy were having loud, drunken conversations with each other, and a few rather violent games had broken out, so we were able to have near-total privacy.
“So I assume you were successful then, Severus?” Lucius hissed under his breath. “Quite,” I responded, giving a bloodthirsty leer. He laughed heartily and gave me a light punch on the shoulder. “That’s the Severus I know and love.”
“So I notice Draco isn’t at the revel tonight.”
“Yes, I sent him to his aunt and uncle’s house in Sweden for the holiday. I didn’t want his impressionable young mind being exposed to this rabble…” he indicated the party raging around us, “I’d hate for him to become a wife-beating little pervert rapist like the rest of this human garbage,” he spat venomously.
I nodded my agreement, “Indeed. I hope we can get this entire situation taken care of sooner, rather than later,” I muttered, glancing at him meaningfully.
He understood my insinuation and nodded exhaustedly. “I never thought I’d say this, but all I want is a fucking quiet life, Severus. I don’t want power or money any more. I have plenty of both. I just want my family to not be fucked up beyond all recognition by the end of this goddamn war,” he sighed.
We toasted our partnership, then chugged our full tumblers of quite expensive scotch. He refilled our glasses, and we drank and drank until, blessedly, we passed out. I was able to pass the rest of the revel in this manner, waking long enough to drink my way back into blissful unconsciousness.
By the time the Dark Lord allowed us to leave, nearly a day and a half had passed. The morning sun seared my eyes excruciatingly when I left the manor and apparated onto the step of Grimmauld Place. I took a few steps into the dark hallway, tripped over something, and nearly fell flat on my face. As my eyes adjusted to the gloom, I could see that Hermione had dragged a mattress into the front hallway. She awoke when I stumbled over her, and leapt to her feet.
She burst into tears, cradling my face in her hands. “Oh Professor, what have they done to you?! You look absolutely frightful!” I glanced at the entryway mirror, taking in my pallid skin and sunken features. The circles under my eyes were so dark I looked as if I’d been pummeled in the face. My hair was a total oil slick and stuck up bizarrely where I’d been lying against the arm of the couch. I looked like I hadn’t eaten in weeks, and I had this distinct haunted grimace about the mouth.
I just shook my head dazedly and tried to push past her. “Stop that right now!” she snapped, and I froze. “I’m not going to have any of that. Are you physically hurt?” she asked briskly. I shook my head. “So it’s just psychological trauma,” she sighed, looking at me somberly. “Come on then, you need a shower. You stink like a corpse.”
She walked behind me with her hands on my shoulders and steered me into the upstairs bathroom. I stood there, staring blankly at the wall, as she unfastened my Death Eater robes and tossed them unceremoniously in the corner by the toilet. After hesitating a split second, she unbuttoned my shirt too. That she tossed in a different corner, along with my shoes, socks, and trousers that she removed after forcing me into a sitting position on the edge of the tub. Being sleep-deprived, wasted, severely dehydrated, undernourished, and generally shell-shocked, I only distantly took notice of her activities. I didn’t even get hard as she undressed me; my body was too traumatized by sexual violence to even consider such a thing.
She turned the shower on and waited for it to get hot. She seemed to debate with herself for a long time, then opted to simply push me into the shower with my underwear still on. She closed the curtain and commanded me to take them off. After a moment of processing, I tossed them over the curtain and into the pile with the rest of the clothing. “Now clean yourself,” she commanded, and I followed her instructions, feeling bizarrely relieved that I had someone to tell me what to do.
She disappeared for a while, taking my clothes with her. When she returned, she was bearing a clean Dark Side of the Moon t-shirt and my softest pair of pajama pants. She passed a clean towel to me around the curtain, carefully looking away, then passed me my clothes when I handed it back to her. I cleaned my teeth and combed my hair as she looked on like a fretful mother hen. Once I was properly washed and clothed, she took me by the hand and led me back downstairs. She took me into my room and tucked me into bed like a child. She left and returned a few minutes later with three large glasses of ice water, a bag of crisps, and a sandwich she’d made with leftover guinea hen from our dinner two nights before.
I gulped down a glass and a half of water immediately, then jammed the food down my gullet like a starving man. I hadn’t felt the least bit hungry before, but as soon as the food was in front of me I inhaled it. I finished the rest of the water and laid back on the pillows, staring broodingly into space.
She rifled through my bag, something that would ordinarily have made me apoplectic, but I simply watched her numbly. She emerged with a piece and my jar of ganja. She placed them on my lap, and I began to pack a bowl on sheer force of habit. I took a large hit of the pure Indica, and immediately felt my shoulder muscles begin to loosen. I passed it to her and she took a hit as I lit it for her with my wandtip. She coughed loudly as she exhaled, drawing the tiniest twitch of a smile from the corner of my mouth. As we smoked the rest of the bowl together, I gradually began to feel almost human again. I yawned loudly and stretched, and she got up to leave.
I grabbed her by the hand without thinking, whispering desperately, “Don’t leave me. Please.” I looked at her then with eyes so full of misery and neglect that she immediately hugged my face to her bosom. “It’s ok, it’s ok, I won’t leave,” she soothed me. She climbed under the covers and pulled me to her. I settled my head contentedly on her narrow chest, and she hummed a comforting melody to me, stroking my hair and face in a motherly sort of way. I held off slumber as long as I could, trying to absorb this moment in all its sorrowful beauty. After a few minutes, I finally drifted off and slept dreamlessly, safe in her arms.
- 22
- 23
- 24
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

Madrigal