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Secretly Slytherin	By : Veresna Category: Harry Potter > General > General Views: 12269 -:- 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
- 28
- 29
- 30
Chapter 29: The Culmination of a Deep, Undeniable Passion
Helena pressed up against him as his eager fingers worked into her.
"And tell me, dear, what do you want?" he whispered into her ear as his right hand played with her nipples.
"This is good," she murmured, arching back against him. "Except, could we do it in the bed, please?" She felt him blow softly against her cheek and stretched her neck to the right, searching for his lips. A moment later his warm mouth clamped down on her, his tongue thrusting into her in synchronization with the motion his fingers were making.
He moved back slightly. "Of course," he whispered. Then he abruptly brought his body away from her. His hands went to her shoulders and he suddenly twirled her around. Not at all prepared for the swift movement, Helena quickly lost her balance and fell, clumsily, to the floor.
"If you can find the bed," he taunted.
Helena sighed. "You know, every time I begin to think that that I can trust you, you manage to do something that really pisses me off," she muttered, rising to her feet and fanning her arms out in front of her in an attempt to guide herself. She heard him laughing from somewhere off to her left side.
"Funny, that same thought has occurred to me innumerable times during our brief association," he replied.
She turned towards him. "Oh, come on now. You have to at least admit that you hold all the cards in this relationship."
She paused and waited for a reply, but none came. She gritted her teeth and stood silent, hoping at least to hear him breathing so she could figure out just where he was. Not a single sound.
***Great, guess I’m back to stumbling around with my hands in front me. Thanks, Professor.***
She stepped forward, arms outstretched and within a few steps her fingertips came into contact with something hard and solid. The wall? No, she decided, a door. Her hand trailed down and found a single, small knob-much too small to be the doorknob for the bathroom or sitting room door. She sighed and turned around. Obviously, she had damn near run into the door of the closet, which meant the bed should be opposite it. She took a cautious step. And then another. And another.
She sighed in frustration and raised her hands to undo the tie, expecting at any moment to hear his voice threatening her to put her hands down. Again, there was silence. And, after a moment, Helena decided she knew why he was raising no objection. Despite her best attempts, she could not get the knot undone-he had obviously secured it magically. She moved her hands to the front and tried to lift it off that way. It remained stubbornly in place as if it were glued there. For a moment, she dropped her hands down to waist level and clenched them angrily. Then she put them out in front of her and continued walking forward. Her eyebrows wrinkled in confusion as her fingertips came in contact with the smooth surface of the wall.
She gave a small cry of rage and turned to her right, feeling with her outstretched hands. Nothing. She turned angrily to the left and instantly found that she was standing right next to the bedside table, as the sharp corner dug into her hip and she heard the tinkling sound of glass as some of the bottles fell over. She turned back the other way, completely bewildered now. Then, she drew in a quick, exasperated breath as she realized what he had done.
"The bed is no longer where it used to be!" she hissed.
"Did I say it was?" came the reply-so close to her ear that she jumped. "No point in making it too easy for you," he continued, putting his arms around her again.
She pushed him away and angrily backed against the wall. "I want to leave," she screamed. "Get this damned mask off of me and open the door," she demanded.
"Right after I’ve said you could stay all night for once? That is just so typical of you," came his voice, from in front of her now. "First you’re angry because I don’t give you a bed. Then you’re angry because I won’t let you see my private rooms. And then you’re angry when I don’t let you stay all night. And every time I give in to your demands, you end up even angrier than before and storming out of here. Really, my dear, how can I even try to make you happy when you keep changing your mind?"
"I don’t like these games," she spat out between her clenched teeth.
"Oh, no," his smooth voice corrected her. "You like games very much, and these kinds of games especially. You just don’t like this particular game because you’re losing. And you’re a poor loser," he commented.
"And you’re not?" she chided.
"Oh, I am a very poor loser as well," he conceded. "The question is, which of us has more to lose in this singular game that we are playing?"
Immediately, some of her anger drained away, only to be replaced with a cold, nameless fear. She knew that he was talking about more than her current predicament, but she wasn’t sure exactly what it was that he was referring to. And the fact that he sounded very serious concerned her. Deeply.
She shivered, both in response to her emotional quandary and to her very real physical distress. She crossed her arms hugged her shoulders as her trembling intensified.
"Cold?" His voice again. Leaning down, murmuring in her ear.
"Yes," she whispered.
She listened to the soft sound of his footsteps going to the closet and opening it. The gentle clank of hangers as he searched for something and retrieved it from the closet, and the sound of his footsteps drawing near her again.
"Put your arms out," he urged.
She did so, rather reluctantly, and found herself putting her arm into the sleeve of his-shirt? No, she decided, feeling the soft flow of fabric envelop her. The top to his pajamas again? No, he was folding the ends in front and securing it with a tie. His silk robe.
He kept his left arm around her and she felt, through the motion of his body, that he was waving with the other one. She heard the sound of the door unlocking and opening. Then she heard another sound as he undid the sealing spell on the drawer of the bedside table. She heard him reach in and retrieve his wand.
"Let’s go in front of the fire for a while, shall we?" he suggested.
She swallowed and rallied her courage. "Since you have both wands," she noted, with a definitely petulant tone in her voice, "I guess I have no choice."
He made no answer and she allowed him to guide her with his arm into the next room. A moment later, he murmured a spell and she found herself sinking gratefully down on some soft cushions in front of the roaring fire.
"Wine?" he asked.
She found herself shivering again, despite the blazing fire that was just in front of her. "Something warm?" she asked, rather plaintively. "With something in it for pain?" she ventured to add.
"Pain?"
She sighed. "My leg is really starting to ache again," she confessed.
"Ah," he replied. She heard him walk away. "I’m going to get something from my office."
She nodded. Given the fact that she was still blindfolded and his footsteps were difficult to hear, she hoped it was in his general direction.
"And I have both wands, so please don’t make a fool of yourself stumbling around in my absence trying to get your hands on one of them," he added, the sarcasm in his tone quite evident.
She nodded and tiredly let her head droop down towards her chest.
***Damn the man, he really does know me much too well.***
She cautiously edged towards the fire, hoping that whatever he was getting would warm her and take away the dull pain in her leg. Because she really was starting to feel awful again, and she hoped that he believed it. Although, she considered, it would certainly have been like her to claim it even if she was feeling fine. She sighed again and slunk down on her side. She was desperately tired and cold. And she didn’t think she was going to want to talk about whatever the hell it was that Severus wanted to discuss. But she didn’t think she was going to have much choice in the matter.
She was actually dozing by the time he crept back into the room. He stood down, looking at her for a moment and then quietly murmured her name. She gave no response. He considered tickling her for a moment to see if she was faking, but decided against it. He placed the steaming chalice on the table and turned in the direction of his bedroom. A few minutes later he returned, having dressed hurriedly in his pants and shirt and knelt down beside her. He whispered her name again as he drew his fingertips gently up the side of her arm.
"Helena?"
She jerked awake and for a moment seemed completely disorientated. Her hands flew up to the mask in a panicked and confused manner before she seemed to recall her situation.
"I’ve brought something for you," he murmured, helping her get to a seated position again.
He retrieved the goblet and sat down beside her, guiding it into her hands. "Drink this."
"What is it?" she asked, suspiciously.
"Strong coffee laced with cream and a hint of Irish Whiskey. And just a bit of opiate for your pain."
She sniffed the steam arising from the cup contemptuously. "And, let me guess-just a touch of Veritaserum for good measure?"
"No, not this time," he replied, stretching out his feet towards the fire. "But, I don’t promise I won’t resort to that if I think you’re lying to me."
She remained still for a moment and then cautiously brought the cup to her lips, taking a small sip.
It was delicious, and she could not refrain from immediately swallowing more. A wonderful, soothing warmth began to stealthily creep through her, and she relaxed as she felt it spread outward from her stomach down to her fingertips and toes. She drank the whole cup in a matter of minutes and then happily allowed him to take it out of her hand and move it to the side. She was still tired though, and found herself leaning, unwilling but exhausted, against him as he moved back to her and put his arms around her.
She felt him undo the tie on her robe and cautiously lift the ends apart. She murmured something indistinctly, not even sure herself what she meant to say, and allowed her head to lay quietly against his chest. Instead of moving his fingers back between her legs, however, he gently circled the bruise that was already forming on her hip from her abrupt collision with the table. He moved his right hand over and she heard him murmur a healing spell. She felt rather grateful. Although, at the moment, nothing was hurting her, it was rather nice of him to get rid of that bruise for her. She felt her eyes closing again. He must have used his own wand, and she wondered briefly where her wand was-his pocket?
*****

She jerked her head up. This time she knew where she was, but she still wondered how long she had been dozing. Long enough, apparently, to have sunk down on her side again, for her head seemed to be in Severus’ lap now, and he was gently stroking her hair. As well as he could over the damned blindfold, she amended, for it was still firmly in place. She briefly considered asking him to remove it, but decided that if he had any intention of doing so, he would have done it while she was asleep. And also deciding that if he would only remove it if she satisfied some condition for him. And since she doubted she wanted to do whatever it was he wanted, it was simpler just to keep it on.
"Awake?" he asked.
She nodded, but made no movement to get up. Instead, she turned her face towards the warmth of the fire and smiled as she felt his left hand move down the soft silk that was covering her body, stopping to gently trace the outline of her breast and hip as he moved over it. And then she laughed.
"Something strike you as funny?" he inquired.
"I just wonder what my fellow students would think to see me lying here with head laying in your lap," she noted. "And a blindfold on," she added, a hint of annoyance in her voice.
"Ah, well, I suppose most of the students would think the only way someone would be willing to be here would be if they were blindfolded," he remarked.
"Do you think Dumbledore would find it interesting?" she asked, a hint of maliciousness in her voice.
Snape cleared his throat. "Not quite as interesting as when you had the handcuffs on," he noted, dryly. "But I would still suggest that you not preserve the image for posterity. Like some of the other drawings you’ve done." There was a change of tone at the end, and Helena suddenly thought she knew what he wanted to talk about.
She sighed and drew herself up to a seated position. "All right, I’m sorry," she began. "But, in the first place, I never expected anyone to be going through my desk and coming across them. And, in the second place, I didn’t know the pictures were missing until I got back to my room after our argument that night."
She hesitated for a moment and waited for some kind of reply from him. Hearing none, she shrugged her shoulders and continued.
"And in the third place, I was seriously thinking about letting you know that someone had taken them. But, I was still angry with you," she admitted. "And then I fell down the stairs."
"Did you?" His tone was decidedly suspicious.
She laughed again. "You know, Pomfrey asked me the same thing. I am not the kind of person who throws herself deliberately down a flight of steps," she protested. She brought a finger to her mouth and nervously nipped at the nail. Oh, dear, that was something else she had to tell him that he would not be happy to hear. That Pomfrey knew about them. She supposed she would have to let him know that too…..eventually.
"And no one helped you fall?" he asked.
"No, I don’t think so." She hesitated again. She supposed she could tell him that Kathleen had seen her fall, and go into that whole story. But right now she preferred to only offer the information that he absolutely needed. She was certain it would still be more than she wanted to say.
She waited for his next question.
"Do you know who took the pictures?"
"Yes," she muttered, raising her eyebrows in disdain. "Lewis."
"You’re sure about that?" He was more surprised than he wished to admit. Both that she knew and that she would be willing to admit the boy’s participation in spying on her.
"Yes," she sighed. "I had put a spell on my drawer so that if the culprit were in my presence his or her palm would turn blue. And, Lewis’ hand was a lovely shade of indigo while he was visiting me in the Hospital Wing."
"That must have been rather awkward," he noted.
"Oh, luckily he had just picked up the bottle of medicine," she answered, stifling a yawn. "So, I persuaded him that YOU had left a spell on that. Which was causing his hand to take on the color."
He laughed softly and ran his hand down her back for a moment. "That’s my clever girl," he murmured.

She brought her arms up to circle around her upraised knees. "I am clever," she retorted. "But I am not a girl. And I am definitely not YOUR girl."
Snape paused and let his fingertips trace the faint Death Mark on his left arm. "Perhaps," he replied, quietly. He moved over to her and put his arm around her shoulders. "Are you Malfoy’s?"
She angrily drew away from him again. "No, I am not!" she retorted, angrily. She shifted unto her knees and continued. "Speaking of him, he would like to meet with both of us," she remarked.
She swore she could feel him raise his eyebrows. "Really?"
"Oh, yes," she replied. "He sent a lovely letter to me at the hospital. Telling me that you and he had had a friendly little chat. And that he’s very anxious to start paying for my education," she spat out, her tone contemptuous. "He even offered to provide an apartment for me."
"Indeed?" He drew back and gazed at what he could see of her face. She sounded angry, but not as irately insulted as he would expect her to be if she had an inkling of what plans her father had in store for her. Or if she suspected that he was so anxious to provide her with a place so that she could tryst with the lovers he intended for her to take.
"He didn’t tell you that?" she challenged.
"No," admitted Severus. "Our conversation centered more on the fact that he had the drawings."
"And what he wanted in return for keeping them from hidden?"
He snorted. "Of course." He frowned. He was not quite ready to question her to see if she had any idea that Lucius intended her to join Voldemort’s service. And prostitute herself for them. Instead, he chose to follow another line of questioning. "I was more surprised to hear his claim that he had a pair of your socks with my semen stains on them?"
Helena groaned and let her head drop down on her hands for a moment. "Yes," she admitted, grudgingly.
His voice was slightly aggrieved. "Well, try as I might I don’t really recall an occasion-" he began.
She sighed and gritted her teeth. "Remember my fishnet stockings?"
"Yes?"
"They were simply a pair of transfigured socks."
"Why did you keep them?" Severus no longer sounded bewildered. Instead, his tone was clearly accusatory. Apparently, he now found the fact that she had them in her possession to be quite suspicious.
"Well, I didn’t mean to keep them as keepsakes. Or evidence," she added. "I just thought it was best not to leave them out in the general wash." She shrugged her shoulders. "I think I meant to throw them out, eventually." She brought her hands up to rub her temples. "I guess you want to take back that remark about being clever, huh?"
He snorted. "Too clever by half, sometimes," he retorted.
She couldn’t help laughing. "As a matter of fact, that has always seemed to be Sprout’s opinion of me."
They allowed a long silence to fall between them. Finally, Helena bit her lip and ventured a question: "When did you figure out that he was my father?"
Snape sighed and she heard him pour some liquid into a glass. Wine, probably, she decided.
"I was fairly certain after meeting your mother, but it wasn’t until Malfoy began to question me about signing your letters of recommendation that I was absolutely sure."
"What did my mother say to you?" Helena looked absolutely baffled.
"She didn’t say a word to me, actually. I have just been in Narcissa Malfoy’s presence much too often not to notice when someone is doing her best to imitate her."
"That was enough to tip you off?" There was grudging admiration in her voice.
He laughed in a self-deprecating way. "That and my ability to read minds," he teased. "No, actually, I was fairly certain you were a Malfoy after I took a look at what kind of core your wand had."
"And when exactly did you do that?"
"The night I locked you in the bathroom."
"What did my wand tell you?"
"A unicorn hair surrounded by dragon heartstring is a unique combination of historically light and dark magic," he replied. "The Malfoys have been proudly using them for years. Rather a signature for them. And those who know their family well."
"Is that why you made that remark about my wand? And not liking the Dark Forest because of the sensations of Dark Magic I feel whenever I’m around it?"
"Yes."
They were silent again for a number of minutes.
"Wine?" he asked.
She shook her head no.
"Are you sure?"
She could hear him pouring another glass full.
"Yes."
"You might want to reconsider," he commented. "Because the next thing I’m going to ask is how you knew Lucius was your father."
Helena screwed up her mouth for a moment, and for a few seconds, her mouth looked as though it was determinedly shut. Then she shrugged and lay down tiredly on the floor again. "My grandmother told me."
He waited for her to continue. After several more minutes had passed, he moved so that he was lying next to her.
"I need more information." His tone was quiet, but determined.
"Go to hell," she whispered.
"Probably," he answered.
She laughed shortly.
"But," he continued, running his hands along her body again and then wrapping his fingers around her upper arm and pulling her into a seated position again. "You either tell me or I go back to my office and get a dose of Veritaserum."
"That sounds like a threat."
"It is."
She tried to pull away but found his fingers gripping her too tightly. "And if you do, I will go straight to Dumbledore."
He snorted. "You know, Helena, I am starting to get about as tired of that threat as your old standby of running off to take Thurston as your lover."
She tilted her chin defiantly.
He leaned down and raised his hands up, placing his fingers lightly but firmly around her slender throat. "If you ever intended to tell Dumbledore anything, it would have been immediately after your first detention. I have come to the conclusion that you have so many secrets you wish to hide that the last thing in the world you want is an interview with our dear Headmaster," he affirmed. "For I assure you, he would be just as interested as I am in your heritage, and all the other skeletons crowding that closet of yours."
She frowned and bit her lip. "I’ve changed my mind. I’ll have some wine now, please."
"Of course." He moved away and retrieved the glass.
"Without the Veritaserum," she added.
He handed her the glass and she took a large gulp.
"Well, let’s see," she began. "I always knew that I was conceived before my mother’s marriage. That was clear from all the jokes about my being a ‘premature’ nine pound baby and coming ‘a little too soon after the wedding.’ But, of course, I always assumed I was Harrison’s daughter."
"As did he?"
"Yes. Still does, apparently."
She sighed and took another large swallow of wine. "I also knew that my mother was desperately unhappy in her marriage. I always assumed it was because my ‘father’ was blatantly unfaithful to her." She laughed shortly. "If I had any doubts on that score they were permanently erased by the image of him screwing his ‘secretary’ on the floor of the parlor when my mother and I came home unexpectedly early from a shopping trip. I was five years old."
"But when did you start to suspect he was not your father?"
"Well, when I was eight I was searching my mother’s room, trying to find my Christmas presents-" she began, only to be interrupted by a snort from Severus. "Of course, I found them, but I also found, buried away in one of the drawers of her bureau a stack of newspaper clipping and pictures."
"Of Malfoy?"
She nodded. "I thought it was rather strange, but it wasn’t until some time later that the thought occurred to me that perhaps it was a man she had been in love with. Was still in love with."
She sighed again and drained her glass. "But, it wasn’t until I went to stay with my grandmother the week before I came to Hogwarts that I really understood. Grandmother sat me down and had a very serious talk with me. About the fact that she sincerely hoped that I would be placed in Ravenclaw. But, she did want to warn me that I just might be placed in Slytherin instead."
"That must have been a shock," he noted.
"Initially yes. But, I managed to stay calm and thought things through. And waited until the next day to ask her if it was because Lucius Malfoy was my father."
"And she told you?"
"Yes, everything. That my mother and Malfoy had known each other slightly while they were both attending Hogwarts. That they had run into each other a short time after my mother had ended a brief affair with Harrison. And that, probably due to her inability to perform a proper contraceptive spell or take other ‘precautions’ that she ended up pregnant with me."
"And was persuaded to go back to Harrison and tell him that he was the father."
"Yes."
"Anyway, Grandmother told me that since we had avoided scandal so far, it was best to ‘keep up appearances’ and keep my mouth shut about it."
"What really did happen when you had the Sorting Hat on?"
She started. "I told you. It said that it couldn’t make up its mind whether I belonged in Ravenclaw or Slytherin."
"Yes, but you never told me how you persuaded it to sort you into Ravenclaw. Instead of Slytherin, where you clearly belonged."
"Hmm. Well, the night before I came to Hogwarts, I received a gift from an ‘anonymous friend’. A bracelet, decorated with the Ravenclaw crest. And a note suggesting I wear it to the Sorting Ceremony to bring me good luck."
"It must have been powerful Dark Magic. The Sorting Hat has never openly acknowledged a single instance of being tricked into a sorting decision."
"Well, if certainly wasn’t happy about it. I do think the only reason I made it into Ravenclaw was because I finally managed to persuade it that I would be suicidally depressed if I was placed into Slytherin."
"And your ability to sway the Sorting Hat is the reason why McGonagall was suspicious of you from the first?"
"I suppose. And the fact that I made the mistake of doing more in my first Transfiguration Class than a First Year was supposedly capable of."
"After which time you became extremely careful."
"What do you mean?"
"You know," he began moving towards her again. This time she allowed him to take him in his arms again. "One thing that was extraordinary about the Staff Meeting where we agreed to support your admission to the Mediwitch program was the feeling I got that all of the faculty agreed that you were very intelligent and gifted. But, it was still a bit of a shock for them how well you had actually done in all of the subjects. Somehow, without sinking to the desperation of getting bad grades, you had a remarkable capacity for doing excellent work under a most anonymous and unassuming exterior. I dare say even McGonagall would have to admit that your academic record was astounding. Though, unlike Granger, you were never one to flaunt your knowledge. Which brought to mind a question."
He stroked her hair again. "What were you hiding from?"
She laughed. "I was always afraid someone would find it odd that the daughter of poor, squib-like little Elizabeth Ettington and that big buffoon, Herbert Harrison, would have turned out as well as I did," she admitted.
She took another sip of wine. "Or, after the first couple of years, when my ‘little brother’ came to Hogwarts, whether there was any similarity between us."
Snape laughed softly. "You know, it’s rather funny, but once I did realize who your father was I did see some similarities. Not only between you and Draco, but you and Lucius."
"In what way?"
"Oh, not physically. No, you look too much like your mother for that. But, little things. Expressions, gestures. The way you hold your wand. It was rather remarkable."
Helena did not look pleased.
"But, I doubt anyone who is not as familiar with the Malfoys as I am, and who was not looking for it would ever see it."
She shrugged, still somewhat unhappy.
"But, you must have met him sometime?"
"Once. At the Quidditch Cup last year. Could I have some more wine?"
"Accio wine!" he called. And a few seconds later she heard the sound of more wine splashing into her glass.
"We got tickets at the last minute-" She frowned again. "From Malfoy, I suppose in retrospect." She took another drink of wine. "At any rate, my mother and I ran into him one day. We were by ourselves, I was doing my best to talk my mother out of getting some useless, expensive commemoration trinket when he suddenly came up behind us." She laughed shortly and took another swallow. "I thought my mother would faint on the spot. She looked so…..ridiculously happy to see him. It was pathetic," she spat out.
"He made some kind of remark about how ‘wonderfully’ I had grown, and how pretty I was and what excellent reports he had read about me from his vantage point as a governor of the school. He even made a point of holding my hand and saying what a shame it was that he had never had the chance to speak to me before. Smarmy bastard," she added, bitterly.
Snape narrowed his eyes and watched her closely, trying to decipher how much of the truth she was telling.
"And then it became evident that they wanted to talk alone, so my mother asked me to run back to our tent and get something. But, I knew she was awfully proud of the fact that I could apparate-"
"Unlicensed."
She made an impatient gesture with her hand. "So, I told her I would apparate back to the tent and get what she wanted."
"So you left?"
She smiled smugly. "Well, I apparated away."
"Where?"
"Into the tree above them."
Snape laughed again, and this time Helena allowed herself to join in. "So, I was able to hear their conversation. My mother, telling him how much she had missed him and that she hoped he knew she had never loved Harrison. And him, lying to her about how often he thought of her and how deeply he regretted that he hadn’t been able to acknowledge me. But, that things were about to change."
"Meaning?"
She snorted. "Well, obviously, Mr. Lucius Malfoy was nowhere to be seen in the crowd when that group of Death Eaters disrupted the whole proceedings a few nights later. Although Draco was lounging around, clearly enjoying the show."
"Which is why you were certain Malfoy was a Death Eater."
"I was fairly certain before, but that seemed to confirm it."
He waited for her to go on, but she contented herself with sipping her wine. He considered what she had told him. He was inclined to believe her. All that she had told him so far merely confirmed that she was angry at having a man as her father who had refused to treat either her or her mother well. He was still uncertain as to whether or not the fact that he was a Death Eater truly bothered her.
"And now he’s offering to help you with expenses?"
She tilted her head thoughtfully. "You know, that’s the really interesting thing. He’s not only offering to pay my university expenses and housing costs, he’s setting up a bank account for me. Rather than continuing to use my grandmother as an intermediary."
Snape shrugged. "Well, that seems reasonable, since you are an adult."
"Oh, yes," she agreed. "Unfortunately, I was never aware that he was sending money in the first place. Which leads me to believe….." she paused.
"Perhaps your grandmother has been saving it for you?" he suggested.
"Or perhaps that’s the reason she has been able to keep the family manor out of repossession," she replied dryly. "In case you haven’t guessed by now, the past glory of the Ettington/Smythe-Forbush family far exceeds its present monetary assets. It also explains why she seems to have fallen firmly into the pro-Malfoy, anti-Dumbledore contingent during the last decade or two. Apparently even the formidable Constance Smythe-Forbush Ettington is for sale if the price is right."
Snape was silent again. It appeared that Helena loved but pitied her mother. And that she had nothing but contempt for Harrison. And that she had been just recently disillusioned as to where her Grandmother’s interests lay. Or how easily her loyalties could be bought. That left her either hating and wanting to defy Malfoy, or determined to do whatever he wanted to end up with her own special brand of revenge. And certainly, someone with powers as vast and an intellect as cunning as Helena’s would be a tempting tool for Voldemort to use. He certainly knew from his own experience how flattering it was to suddenly feel that someone in a powerful position appreciated you and your talents. And how sweet to feel assured that you would soon be able to take your own unique revenge upon the people who had wronged you.
He considered the matter carefully. He was now inclined to believe her that she had not been a part of Lucius’ plans heretofore. Which, didn’t mean, however, that she had any particular aversion to helping him now. If it meant she could get what she wanted. Whenever she decided exactly what that was.
Although her confession had somewhat eased his fears, he still was determined to find out for himself just how she felt about becoming a Death Eater herself. The fact that the sight of his own Death Mark had never particularly troubled her had always worried him. But, of course, it was far easier to contemplate the mark of evil when it was on someone else’s arm.
He moved to put his arms around her and smiled when she responded.
"Any more questions?" she asked, tiredly.
"Ready to go back to bed?" he answered.
She laughed again. "Oh, god, I hate you!" A small smile appeared on her own face. "But I do want you, desperately." She shrugged, "I guess this means you’ve brought the bed back to it’s proper place?"
In response, she felt him pick her up and carry her back into the bedroom. The bed was apparently back in its normal space, for he dropped her down unto the soft, silk sheet and moved his hands to undo the tie on the robe. He kissed her deeply and moved his hands up and down her body, pausing to stroke her softly between her thighs. She moaned softly as he moved away.
"Oh, don’t despair, I have a special surprise for you," he murmured.
"I don’t know how many more surprises I can take today," she muttered, despondently. She stretched her arms up above her head and yawned, feeling tired and drained. She heard the soft, whispering sounds of him taking of his clothes. She frowned as she heard him open the bedside drawer and take something out. A moment later, she heard him unscrew the cap of a jar.
"Another lotion?" she asked, with not much interest in her voice.
In response, he waved the jar underneath her nose. She sniffed it and her frown deepened. It was vaguely familiar, although she was not certain why. The next thing she knew, he had daubed just a bit of it unto her lip. Her tongue flicked out and licked gingerly at it. She drew in a quick, surprised breath.
"You mean there really IS a Sensitizing Potion?" she asked.
In response, she felt him place some upon her left nipple. Immediately, the skin became taut and warm. He waited a moment and then placed his warm mouth around it, sucking gently.
"Oh, Severus," she moaned, arching her back and spreading her legs wide. "Please, please, more."
Within a few moments, he had spread the gel onto her other breast and was moving down the bed to position himself between her legs. His tongue flicked out to tease her for a moment before he moved his hand up to place the gel on her warm, moist slit. Then he moved his mouth back to suck and tease her sensitized pussy.
Her moans quickly turned to excited squeals. When her orgasm waved over her, she screamed so loudly she was certain that someone must have had heard her, even buried as they were in the depths of the dungeons. Afterwards, he crawled up her length and kissed her again. She sucked gratefully on his tongue for a moment and then moved her hands down his arms, urging him to mount her.
"Don’t you want to fuck?" she asked, feeling him hardening against her thigh.
"Go to sleep," he urged, pulling the covers up around them. "We’ll save that for the morning," he promised.
She murmured a soft protest, but within minutes she was sleeping again. Severus stayed awake for a long time, staring down at her. He supposed most people would have said he had taken her innocence from her long ago, that day he had roughly taken her on his desk and ended her virginity. He sighed as he looked down at her face, still covered as it was by the blindfold. Little did they know the depths of evil to which a soul could sink.
*****
When Helena awoke, the blindfold had vanished, and she could see a few stray rays of the sunrise shining into the room through the doorway that opened out into the sitting room. Severus was sleeping beside her, turned with his back towards her, and she marveled at the feeling of waking up next to him for once. She dared to move slightly, meaning only to snuggle closer next to him, but he woke immediately and turned to gaze at her.
"Good morning," he said, leaning over to kiss her.
"Good morning," she replied.
"Get enough sleep?" he asked, his hands already beginning to move over her.
"For now," she replied, moving to lie on top of him.
He smiled and urged her up so that he could move her breasts up to his mouth. For a moment he contented himself with licking them into hard, stiff peaks before feeling her sway against him and changing the motion into a deep, almost painful sucking sensation. His hands moved down to her pussy and began to stroke and tease her there. She responded quickly, his fingers swiftly becoming wet as they moved back and forth. She moaned softly and moved back, spreading her legs open wide and preparing to take him in.
"No," he whispered. "On your back," he urged, nudging her over to the side.
She smiled and shrugged her shoulders. This would only be the second time that he had fucked her in the missionary position. She closed her eyes and smiled as she arched her back to receive him and he glided in with one long, sure stroke. She gripped her legs tightly around him and moved her hands to caress his lower back and buttocks.
Severus stared down at her, his intense black eyes boring into her gentle hazel ones. He moved his hands back up to her breasts and began to tease at her nipples as his stroking quickened and intensified. Her breaths became deeper and ragged and she moved her legs down slightly, the shift in position allowing him to change his angle of penetration. He moved one arm down to her waist so that he could press against her clit more firmly, and she began to moan, feeling her orgasm build. He bent down and kissed her, deeply and passionately until she felt short of breath and pulled away. He raised both arms up to grasp her wrists and pull them above her head.
He let his weight slip down so that his chest was slammed against her and felt her back arch up as she started to come. He drew back slightly, leaving her arms pinned tightly underneath his as his thrusts became even deeper and faster. She screamed as her orgasm exploded within her and her legs stiffened as her knees bent and she raised her buttocks off the bed. In response, he growled and slammed down hard against her as he came. A moment later, she shrieked again. But this time it was not because of pleasure. She was screaming in pain, and the smell of burning flesh flooded the room. She tried desperately to pull her right arm from underneath his left, but besides the strength with which he was holding it down, it seemed that her skin had melted and bonded tightly unto his.
"Severus, stop, stop!" she pleaded.
He finally took a breath and rose up, away from her.
She brought her arm down and stared on it. Freshly and indelibly burnt into the skin of her right arm was a mirror image of his own Death Mark.
Then she stared up at him. He shook his head once, sadly and slowly.
"Last night you swore your fidelity to me-completely and fully," he whispered. He smiled, almost apologetically. "You shouldn’t have."
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Secretly Slytherin