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365 Days (1 year)	By : wherdatcomfrom Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Snape Views: 17501 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
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
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Chapter Three: Days become Weeks become Months

The rooms were spare, only a bed and nightstand, a hook on the wall where the next change of clothing was kept, when it was needed. Neville was neighbors with Roger Davies, who was brought up four days after the Longbottom heir was placed in his cubbie. On the other side, Gregory Goyle was shoved in just before Neville, and he had heard the boy crying himself to sleep at night.
Across from them, three other rooms held Oliver Wood, Theodore Nott and Kenneth Towler.
Neville discovered that they were left alone at night, with only the wards across the entrance as doors, they could hear each other, and he talked to them whenever the guards left. Roger was more interesting than he was in school, especially now that there were no other eagles to talk with. The Ravenclaw boy told them stories he remembered from his mother, and they mused about what was to become of them. Neville was the first to be hauled out of his new room and taken back to the room that they came to call the Throne Room.
Voldemort had set up an elaborate chair that took up most of the far wall. It was made from human bones and draped with torn robes with blood stains decorating them. The only other furniture was the three cages to the left and a table filled with trays of food kept under preservative charms. Neville was stripped naked, just outside of his cell, and dragged into the room, his hands secured behind him by an incarcerous spell.
“Mr. Longbottom. I wish to discuss my expectations with you.” the snake-faced man said.
“Expectations, My Lord.” Neville answered.
“First, I should inform you, that I have taken into custody, your Grandmother, your uncle and two aunts. They are not here, but being held at another location. Their lives will be in your hands. I have information about your parents, as well. My first inclination is to kill them and free up beds that are needed in hospital, but I will leave that up to you. If you are cooperative, I will spare them, but if you defy me . . . .” the open-ended threat hung in the air and Neville looked around the room. The eyes of the three caged wizards were cast down, one seemed to be unconscious, even. He looked back at the evil dark lord.
“I want to cooperate, My Lord.” he said.
“Very good. First, let's get some idea how far you will go for me. Do you remember this witch?” Voldemort waved an arm and a large imposing death eater entered, pulling a young girl along with him. Neville's eyes flew wide in horror.
“That's Romilda.” he said softly. Romilda Vane, she's only a fifth year.”
“Yes. How old are you, my dear?”
“I'm sixteen.” she stuttered.
“Sixteen, that's a good age. I myself was quite experienced by that age. My first witch was sixteen when we consummated our affair. She's much older and wiser now, but she was hot at that age. Quite a vixen, and a Gryffindor, as well. Now, about your compliance, Mr. Longbottom. May I call you Neville? Yes? Good. Neville, I'd like for you to have sex with Miss Vane. I'll provide you with contraceptive potions, since I am not ready for this young lady to be a parent. You will take her virginity in my court room, with enough witnesses to satisfy me of your good faith. Take them Yaxley.”
Neville and Romilda were led to a large hall, filled with black robed witches and wizards and pushed onto a stage at the end, far from the doors, where a pallet was left out for them. Romilda still wore the tattered remains of her school uniform, torn in some embarrassing places, that she kept tugging up to cover herself.
“Don't disappoint the Dark Lord, or your new fans.” Yaxley said, indicating the gathered witnesses. Neville took the girl's hand and pulled her toward the pallet.
“I'm sorry, Romilda. I don't want to hurt you, but he'll kill people. People we both care about.”
“He already did. My parents, my aunts and uncles, cousins and older brother. It's just me and Alex, my baby brother. I'll do what I have to to protect him. Just do it, Neville. Do what you have to.” Romilda stripped off her clothes, holding her hands over parts of her to cover as best she could, but soon she was naked and laying on the floor, Neville's cock buried in her body as he tried to achieve a climax all the while being watched by a room full of cheering or booing death eaters and dark wizards.

Blaise was still unconscious when he was dragged from the cage and thrown onto a flat raised platform. He didn't know where he was, though he suspected it was not far from the room where Professor Snape and the O'Connell boy were left. He still hurt from his earlier treatment and another round with the crazy dark lord was not a thought he wanted to entertain. He drew in as much air as he could before the first round of questions came at him.
He was crucio'd every time he gave an answer that the Dark Lord didn't like, or gave no answer because he didn't know, or gave an answer that was the least bit sarcastic. He lost consciousness many times, only to be enervated and subjected to another round. He had the nerve to ask about Greg, and was crucio'd about that. He found out that he had a natural resistance to Imperious, Veritiserum and Legilimency, so these sessions of torture were the only way that his interviews brought results that satisfied Lord Voldemort.
He didn't know how long his punishment had lasted before he was tossed to Theodore Nott's father, and a new punishment began.
The man had lost his wife, when she had turned from the Dark Lord and joined Dumbledore to fight with the light. It had only taken a few months to discover where she had taken her infant son and a small daughter, and after killing her, to bring the children back to their father, who raised them by himself and became a sadistic follower of his chosen side. He had given his children over to his house elves and dedicated himself to learning ways of torture that could make a body last for longer, while undergoing extreme pain. He had also sworn off women, and taken to using young males for his sexual release.
Blaise was now his personal toy, a gift to show his lord's appreciation. As long as he didn't kill the boy, or cause any lasting harm, he could do as he pleased. Today, his pleasure took Blaise into a world of internal hurt.
“This will keep you from leaking.” the man said, inserting a plug into him, with tubes attached that trailed over the side of the bare bed where Blaise was held with conjured ropes. “When this potion is inside of you, it will burn a bit, and then you'll feel some cramping, but that's part of its method. When I let it out, you'll be left cleaner than you've ever been. There.”
The liquid was released through the tubes, finding Blaise's insides in seconds. He screamed as the feeling of fire scorched his anal passage and continued up into his body, leaching away his last remaining strength and scalding his intestines from there on up.

Voldemort returned without the Slytherin, and he stopped to glare at the potions master. He kicked the side of the man's thigh, where it was near the opening between bars. “That was refreshing, Severus. I think I need something to celebrate with. I always feel so energized by a good session. But, I want to have an attractive lover, tonight. So, you are saved by your own genetics, my slave. Mr. O'Connell, I'm going to give you a treat. Come with me.”
“Please, My Lord. Not the boy. I can make you . . .” Severus begged, trying to aid the young Gryffindor.
“Shut up, Severus!” Voldemort shouted, throwing a silent hex that curdled the little bit of food that was in the man's stomach and forced it out through his throat. After he had thrown up, and the bile was coating his body, the Dark Lord smirked. “Now, you smell as bad as you look. I'll have that cleaned, when I am through.”
Seamus cringed when his door opened and he was invited out, the smell of Snape's vomit reaching him and adding to his fright. He gathered up his courage, remembering who he was and climbing out and over to the dark wizard. He stayed on his hands and knees, not wanting to incur any extra punishment, after seeing what the man might do. He was still like that, kneeling with his hands on the floor, when Voldemort put his hand on top of the close cropped hair and apparated them away.
They landed in the receiving room of a well-appointed apartment, the light wood of the furniture accented by the blood red upholstery. He was looking around, at the desk and bookshelves, when Voldemort grabbed his ear and tugged him into motion. They left the room and entered the attached bedroom, decorated with the same scheme, and he was pushed toward the bed. He landed against the foot board, looked up and cried out. A quick and silent spell hoisted him up and put him on the bed, on hands and knees with his arse exposed.
It had only taken one look at the size of the Dark Lord's unclothed body, complete with out of proportion limbs, to frighten him to the status of Hufflepuff. The man was thin, but his arms, legs and cock were that of a body builder, powerful, thick and corded with muscles. The minute he had realized that Voldemort was stripping out of his robes, Seamus knew what was going to happen to him.
“If you relax, this will be better for you. But, that is for you to manage, as I am going to celebrate, regardless. Your screams will be just as fulfilling to me, as moans of pleasure.” the hissing sound of the man's words sounded vaguely like Harry's use of parseltongue and Seamus took strength back from that. Harry would have survived, if he could. And Seamus would live through this, too.
The feeling of hands on his arse, scaly and cold, made him jerk, but he forced himself to remain still. The hand on his left cheek moved toward his hole, scraping his skin as it went. A quick spell, that he barely heard, left him with something cold and slick running down his crack. A single digit of the dark lord's fingers entered him and spread the lubricant inside his canal.
The burn that accompanied it was slow and torturous. It was withdrawn, but the relief was short lived, when two returned where one had burned, and they scraped as they stretched him. It was bad, but not unbearable, and later he would wish it had gone on longer. Before he was properly stretched for the tool that the mad wizard used, the fingers retreated and something larger and blunter replaced them.
It rode up and down his crack, threatening and teasing, and then it was pushed inside and Seamus saw stars.
He screamed for as long as his throat held out, and then cried and begged, pleaded and choked until his Lord reached completion and dropped on top of his bruised and bloody body.

The weather in Portugal was mild during this summer, and that was nice, but it still took months for her family to heal, and Andromeda was exhausted with caring for a baby and dealing with her daughter, who was healing but was never going to be able to walk again.
The old elf, Kreacher, had found her at her home when the battle had gone bad, pledged himself to her branch of the family and aided her in rescuing her daughter, but he was nearly worthless in regular duties, and she had no others to command. After a few months in exile, the beast had made a suggestion. “Winky is wanting to be in a family. She is still in Hogwarts, hiding in back of kitchens. Kreacher can get her for Mistress.”
“A young elf?” Andromeda had asked.
“Younger. She was elf of Crouch family. She is still able.”

“Then, go. Bring her if you can, but take no risks. You are all I have, if you can't do this, and I won't lose you.”
The elf winked out and was gone for most of the next two days, and Andromeda feared the worst. She resigned herself to caring for her family, as best she could, by herself.

The elves of Hogwarts were unable to defend the survivors that were collected by the forces of Lord Voldemort, but when the death eaters had gone, they had scoured the grounds and collected up what few witches and wizards had been left for dead, taking them into the only undamaged part of the castle, hiding them there and doing what they could to save them.
In many cases, men and women were so badly injured that only a stasis spell, like a magically induced coma, could keep them alive until someone with medical skill could come and treat them. Only three of the elves patients died, the rest were kept as comfortable as possible and safe from the evil witches and wizards that had taken over the British Isles.
Winky was part of the elves that cared for those who were slowest to recover, only having to watch them and make them comfortable, easing potions into them with special elf magic. She guarded her three wizards with a militant control, not even letting other elves interfere with them unless told to by Wardy, the elf in charge. He had been the top elf while Dumbledore had been headmaster, and all of the other elves respected him.
In a small supply closet, one hall from Greenhouse #4, next to one of the three remaining classrooms, Winky cleaned the dust from the blankets over her smallest wizard, his blond hair matted from a fever that still hung on, aggravating his healing. Beyond him, the tallest of her boys, his red hair dangling over the end of his mat, rolled his head as if trying to wake, but that would not happen without the proper spell, so Winky moved on, shifting the sheet that covered her last patient, his sandy hair a bit longer on the nights of a full moon, though that was the only difference in him. She smiled as she patted his cheek, near his aged scars, hoping that he would sleep peacefully tonight, but knowing that it didn't much matter either way.
The spells she used were gentle and never intruded on these boys' magical sleep, so she finished her work, found her stool and set about repairing some of the clothing that the other elves had brought her, from the ruins of the tower where Ravenclaw house had once been. She darned the socks, stitched the rips, and cleaned the blood, then the items were taken to the repaired trunks in the main classroom, folded neatly and stored until students could return to the wizarding school.

Among Voldemort's slaves, the ones he had personally chosen, were two other former teachers, four young Gryffindors, a Ravenclaw and three Slytherin boys, and some half and pure-blood girls that had fit his fancy and his plans. These were arrayed in the special cells, made into rooms for them, though not all were as clean or comfortable as Neville's. Tracy Davis, the Greengrass girls and Romilda Vane had the best, of the girls, while Marietta Edgecombe, Sally Fawcette, Vicky Frobisher and Cho Chang were kept in empty rooms with only an old comforter for a bed and a bucket for their wastes. The other girl, that most of them didn't know, because she had graduated before Harry and friends had come to Hogwarts, was Laurette Pucey, Adrian's older sister, and her cell was more of a torture chamber than the others. It was her purpose to bring her brother into the Dark Lord's forces, especially since the boy had special skills, being one of Snape's prize pupils, and now that the man was unavailable, Voldemort needed a new potions master.
Away from these cells, he kept the aged Transfigurations teacher to play his games with, including calling her Grandmother Riddle, and forcing her to sit beside him as he administered his daily decrees. She had an apartment, near Tom's where she was given everything she needed, except escape, and she was bound by an oath, forced from her while one of her lions screamed on the floor under Bella's Cruciatus. He knew the crazed Lestrange woman was angry about Minerva taking the place that she desired, and he thought his gift of the mudblood was a fitting consolation. His only order with regards to that one, was that she was not to die.
He had also coaxed the little charms teacher into playing his games, threatening to break all of his bones and let him crawl on the ground after they were healed wrong, it would have been nearly as entertaining as the sprightly little man dressed in the costume of a jester and jingling when he walked. The bells were well placed, so that they could not be seen, and caused the most embarrassing amount of discomfort to Flitwick. But, the Dark Lord did not care about the man's feelings, only his own entertainment.
Today, while his followers watched, he was implementing the first stages of his Wizard Breeding Program. He called for the two purebloods to be brought and the stage to be set. Everyone not involved in this took their seats and the doors opened.
Neville was surprised that he had been left alone for two days, healed of his wounds and well fed. He followed meekly when the Carrow woman dragged him down the hall and pushed him into the throne room. “What's going on?” he asked, but this only brought a round of laughter.
The door opened again and Tracey Davis was pushed toward him, both of the young people were stripped naked, as usual, so they could not avoid the skin-to-skin contact. “Who are you?” she asked.
“Longbottom. Neville Longbottom.” he shared and the laughter broke out again.
“How sweet. The courtship has commenced. Enough foreplay. On the bed, do your job and then you may get a reward. I want completion, but not too quickly. You will be sure that the lady enjoys this as well, won't you Mr. Longbottom?” Voldemort sneered and Minerva leaned forward, her hand reaching up just enough to say she wanted to help them. Neville nodded her way, realizing what was expected of him today. He took the girl's hand and pulled her forward, toward the mattresses that had been erected on a raised platform so everyone could get a clear view.
“I'll try not to hurt you. Have you been . . . .”
“She's a virgin, Mr. Longbottom. I've had her checked by healers and it was confirmed. You will take her, here, and thanks to the potion she was given, she will conceive. You are about to become parents. Enjoy.” the last was directed at the audience, not the young 'lovers'.
“What's your name?” Neville asked as he helped her onto the bed. She was shaking, but did nothing else to betray her fear.
“Tracey.” she said, and when she lay back, Neville climbed over her and proceeded to provide the days entertainment for the new administration.
As the couple writhed together on the raised bed, Voldemort pulled McGonagall closer, edging up her long tartan skirt and casting a silent spell over her lap. She did not know, but no one would see what he did, or where his hands were traveling. He wrapped one arm around her waist, sliding it into the creases of the skirt and between her legs. His other hand held her waist and slid up to cup her breast, fondling it as he whispered into her ear. “If you look away, I'll punish him as soon as he's climaxed. He won't even get to enjoy it. Watch our youngsters, Minerva. Watch them as they blend their seeds and make us some grandchildren.”
The ex-professor grit her teeth as she forced her eyes to stay open, though not focusing on the events as they happened. She owed her students their privacy, even though this was not an act of love, or even mutual attraction. Her body was stiff as the Dark Lord found her folds and slid his fingers into her body. He was soon coaxing her fluids and making her twitch, but she held her tongue, not allowing anything to escape her lips. She would not give him the satisfaction.

The cottage was small, just two bedrooms and an open area that contained the sitting room, kitchen and dining area. They family had found it in time to put up wards and secure enough supplies to last for a long siege, just before the searchers began to scour this part of the world.
Bulgaria was considered neutral, so while the government would not aid the search for British refugees, it would also not inhibit it, either. The threat of Voldemort's forces moving into this country and taking control was too great, so they would not interfere with the Punishers that were searching their land for escaped witches or wizards, nor would they stop these men from taking their prisoners out of this country and back to face retribution in England.
Draco was getting stronger, doing the chores their two elves could not manage, and as he chopped wood for their winter in this forest, his arms and shoulders no longer ached as badly as they had the first month. He stripped off his shirt, tossing it over a branch, and lifted the axe once more. His muscles bulged across his chest and the sun glinted on his sweat soaked skin. He still did not tan, but his pale skin had a healthy glow that came from good food, exercise and restful sleep.
His mother, on the other hand, was even more pale than she had been. A month after they had reached the borders to Bulgaria, she had discovered herself to be pregnant, and the morning sickness was taking its toll. She had lost more weight than she should and at her age the pregnancy had added dangers. Not to mention, they were still in constant threat of exposure to the forces of the Dark Lord, and this was not a convenient time to have a child.
Lucius had proved to be of better stuff than his son believed, when he took over the care of his wife, ladling soup into her when she could not eat anything more substantial. The two remaining elves were there only link to the prosperity they had once commanded, and Lucius had accepted the loss of his home and heritage with the grace of a pureblood. Now, with only what funds they had withdrawn prior to the Battle of Hogwarts, they had to portion out their livelihood in order to make it last, and this was not as easy as any of them had thought it would be.
Their clothing, the things they had brought with, were unsuited to living the rough lifestyle they found themselves in, so sturdier things, more dragon's hyde and leathers, were purchased, and the brocades and linens were put away in a trunk that the elves had shrunk to fit onto the mantel. Their new things sometimes itched, or chafed, but after a few weeks, they wore in and were now like a second skin.
The one change that Lucius reluctantly agreed to, was cutting his long hair, darkening it to a ginger red and letting Draco grow a beard and mustache. Their best friends would not recognize them, now. That and taking the name Rheinegan had been the finishing touches. Draco was now Lars, Lucius was Brutus, and Narcissa was Helga. The Rheinegans were a quiet, hard working family and the few neighbors that met them, liked them.
Though there was enough food in the cottage for weeks, the well was foul and it was a mile to the closest fresh water stream, but they had stored up seven barrels in the root cellar and they had a garden planted that would yield a modest crop in the fall. They could last for long enough, if they were careful and worked hard. Draco made regular trips to the stream, to keep their supply fresh and to get away from the smell of his mother's cravings, all things that included fish, as well as spend some time thinking. He had no plans for the future, beyond surviving, and he felt strange about that. He had never been so free.

Hermione screamed as she was stretched on the rack and her joints strained to near bursting. She was stripped naked, and everyone in the room could see the scars and fresh wounds that decorated her body. Mudblood, whore, bitch, were just a few of the names that Bellatrix had carved into her, letting each heal just enough before choosing her next design.
It was her sentence, to be used as a canvas for the mad woman's art, and she had endured it for so long she nearly forgot what it was like to be free and without pain.
“Today, I think I'll draw you a picture. How about I show you what your boyfriend looks like, now?” And Bella took out her favorite paring blade and chose the flat expanse of Hermione's belly, just above her shaved off pubis.
Hermione screamed again and the woman cackled happily.

At the edge of the field, as abruptly as the dry grass appeared, a steep cliff dropped away into a wide abyss. Harry could not see the other side, and the bottom was shrouded in a dense fog. He walked along the edge for a bit, before he found a series of terraces where he could make his way down to the floor of the chasm.
It took hours, working down the cliff face, from toe hold to crack, and scraping his knees and elbows on the rough stones, but finally, he was at the bottom. Here he found a lush tropical jungle, complete with hanging vines and a tangle of ferns at his feet.
The sun, or at least the glow in the sky, was moving toward the other edge of the gap, so he started in that direction, pushing through the thick foliage.
Review Responses:
moodysavage: At the risk of giving away too much, let's just say there is a definite time theme (see chapter titles), and it will take a year for Harry to return. Sorry, it's just the idea that hit me. Bowled me over, actually.
Delia Cerrano: Sorry. Hope you can bear with me, cause things will be getting a lot worse, before they can get better. Complications weren't enough, so I just had to double them, a couple of times.
Sara: Sorry for the confusion. Remus isn't really dead, but he's not really alive either. I guess that wasn't very helpful, was it? He'll be in a chapter later, so just watch for him. He'll be a hero, again, in my fic. And I'll be reuniting him with his family.
Anon: How could I say no to seven Pleases?
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365 Days (1 year)