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Last Chance	By : DragonOfVenus Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Voldemort Views: 26994 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 8
Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling owns Harry Potter and all related characters, settings, and other copy-righted entities. I do not, nor do I make any profit from this piece of writing.

Chapter List
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Title: Last Chance

Author: Dragon_of_Venus

Pairings: Voldemort/Harry

Rating (Fic): NC-17

Rating (Chapter): PG-13

Word-Count (Fic): 35,000-40,000

Word-Count (Chapter): 5,304

Master List: Here.

Summary: AU after Half-Blood Prince. Voldemort is in control of the wizarding world. Harry is captured and placed under Voldemort's protection because of the horcrux.

Warnings (Fic): Discussions of rape, graphic attempted rape (not in the main pairing), suicide, character death, slurs, sexual harassment, abductions, history of violence within the main pairing, mentions of hate crimes and torture.

Warnings (Chapter): Sexual harassment, attempted sexual assault, and discussions of rape.

Contains: Consensual sex between adults, BDSM, masturbation, voyerism, Voldemort-wins AU.

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all related characters, settings, and ideas belong to J.K. Rowling, not to me. I receive no money for writing this or any other Harry Potter related piece.

~*~

Harry slept until noon the next day, and then Voldemort lost patience, woke him up, and made him eat a rather large lunch to make up for missing breakfast. He'd then had Harry quickly change back into Rabastan's hand-me-downs, which had been washed by the elf overnight, and then Harry had been unceremoniously apparated back to the Lestrange's house without a word about what had transpired the night before, in spite of Harry still being obviously covered in cuts and bite marks. For the second day in a row, Harry was glad that he was wearing a turtleneck.

The Lestranges left him completely alone. He passed Rabastan in the hallway once, and the man didn't so much as make eye contact. Apparently Voldemort had driven the message home that they were not allowed to hurt Harry under any circumstances.

That just left Harry alone with his thoughts, all day long.

Harry tried not to think about Voldemort. He really tried. He settled down in the Lestrange's library and read every book about Quidditch he could find, then he listened to the old radio in his room until he had every Celestina Warbeck Christmas song memorized, then he caught himself thinking about Voldemort for five seconds straight. To remedy this, he slipped out into the garden, where he ran laps and thought about his friends until his head started spinning. Afraid that he'd be breaking his vow if he kept going, he walked over to the backyard, found an old swing that was protected from the rain by the house, and curled up in it.

He had fucked Voldemort.

He had fucked the man who murdered his parents.

He had fucked the Dark Lord, the bigoted asshole who'd murdered thousands, struck fear in the hearts of millions, and single-handedly unleashed previously unknown terror on the United Kingdom, Harry's home.

And he'd loved every second of it. He was still half running on the strange high from doing something that he knew was completely wrong and against not only his better judgment but all of his morals. He still had this strange urge to curl up in Voldemort's bed and relax and feel safe with a man that he should never feel safe with. He wanted to again hand control over to a man that he should never be out of control around.

Except that he hadn't really given control to Voldemort, had he? Voldemort had stopped when Harry told him to, and that had been part of the thrill of it. Even as Harry calmly took all of the pain Voldemort wanted to give him, Harry was in control of when it stopped. Harry was giving himself this twisted illusion that he had power that he didn't really have in his relationship with a man that he would never really have a real relationship with.

He was a thing to Voldemort. Voldemort had joked about the possibility of Harry's mind and soul being swallowed by the horcrux. He'd said, or at least implied, that it would be a relief... until Harry pointed out that it might have negative consequences for Voldemort.

Still, neither of them had ever claimed they loved the other. Hell, even while fucking Harry, Voldemort hadn't even been behaving like he likedHarry. Voldemort didn't like Harry. Harry was almost certain of that. And whomever else Voldemort had fucked and cut up, he probably hadn't liked him either. Voldemort wasn't really the sort of guy who liked people.

There was something wrong with Harry.

His life had changed too much, too suddenly, and it was doing shit to his head. He knew on every level that he could not trust Voldemort, but he was suddenly finding himself in a position where he had absolutely no choice but to trust Voldemort, and his psyche was dealing with having to walk this horrible tight-rope day-in and day-out by sexualizing the experience.

He wondered if it would go away after a while, or if he was doomed to spend the rest of his life getting off and having Voldemort eat him alive, cut him to pieces, then fuck him hard, all while snapping orders at him and keeping a very close on him to make sure that he wasn't doing anything that might endanger him.

Danger? Did having your throat bitten clean off and being sliced into ribbons not count as danger to Voldemort?

Wasn’t there something to be said about mental danger? Surely Harry'd be safer while he was sane. Or maybe not. Frank and Alice Longbottom were safe enough in St. Mungos, and Harry didn't think he really needed his sanity for him to be an acceptable for the horcrux, so perhaps he should just be grateful that Voldemort hadn't just put him in with them.

And if Voldemort wanted to fuck him... Well, Harry had started it. Perhaps if Harry just never did it again, it would never happen again. He could only hope so.

Harry realized that at some point in his musings he'd started to actually swing, and the now the wind was making him quite cold. He sat up and gripped one of the bars that didn't move, causing one of the bars that did move to crash into his arm. The pain probably wouldn’t have been terrible if it the bar hadn't hit one of the cuts from the sectumsempra curse last night. Voldemort had healed him enough to keep him from bleeding to death, sleep a little, and not scar beyond recognition, but he hadn't completely healed the cuts, no doubt because he wanted Harry to have something to prove to himself that it had all really happened in case he began to doubt his memory. Harry watched the blood rise to the surface and stain his robes almost unnoticeably, the way that the blood from Rodolphus' cut had stained the collar yesterday. He wondered how much blood he really had left in him. It seemed he'd be quickly out of it, between Voldemort and Rodolphus.

Harry sighed, stood up, and shivered. He needed to go inside. He was allowed in a certain part of the gardens, so he hadn't broken any rules by going out without asking permission, but he still didn't think it was going to do much good for his relationship with the Lestranges for him to be disappearing for an hour or so without telling them whereto. Perhaps if he was lucky, he'd be back inside and in his room before they noticed that he'd even left.

Besides, the swing was soaked. Harry brushed the water off it and attempted, mostly in vain because of the wind, to wring out his robes. He was certainly going to leave quite a mess for Twoey on his way up to his rooms. One more thing he'd have to apologize to the elf for when he got the chance, he supposed.

He stepped back into the house through the sliding glass door off the dining room. None of the Lestranges were in the dining room, and he could hear no noises of them frantically searching for him, so he assumed he was safe.

He stepped out of the dinning room and walked right into Bellatrix.

"What is wrong with you?!" she said. She looked from the wet spot on her own robes to Harry's soaked robes and scoffed. "Have you been outsidein this weather? And without a traveler's cloak?!"

"Only for a little while," Harry said, backing into the dining room slightly. "And I tried to wait on the swing to dry, only the wind—"

"I don't care! Just dry them you stupid half-blood."

"I..." Harry took a deep breath, knowing already that this was going to end badly for him. "...I don't know how..."

Bellatrix blinked at him in shock for a moment. "You're joking, right?"

"No, actually..." Harry said, shifting slightly.

"That's second-year Charms!"

"I don't remember every little thing that happened when I was twelve."

Bellatrix laughed cruelly.

"...To be fair," Harry said, "There were other things going on that year that seemed much more important than Charms."

She was still laughing, and clearly not listening.

"Do you know how to dry them?"

Bellatrix straightened, smirking at him. "I do, in fact... but I think I'd rather see you just drop those robes here and run to your room in your pants."

"Not funny," Harry said.

"I beg to differ. Come on. Let's see what the savior of the wizarding world looks like underneath his robes. Funny, of all the girls in the kingdom who've fantasized about this, I've never been one of them."

Harry swallowed hard. Harry had never seen Rodolphus topless before, but he could imagine what the man looked like without his robes on. Rodolphus was muscular and tall, and Harry really couldn't compete. Harry knew there'd be bad things in store for him if Bellatrix saw his scrawny body even without the teeth marks and the cuts. With them... the thought was almost unimaginably horrifying.

"Off, Harry," Bellatrix said, drawing her wand.

Harry swallowed hard. He really didn't have any choice. Maybe Bellatrix would just think that Voldemort had tortured him. Maybe she'd focus on the cuts and not even notice the bite marks. He had to hope so, because it seemed pretty clear that he was not getting back to his room with those robes on.

Harry took one deep breath and let them fall to the wooden dinning room floor.

Bellatrix let out half of the laugh that she'd clearly already had on her lips before she caught herself. Harry had already slipped past her, but she spun quickly and caught him by the hair.

"Oh my god," she said, but there was a small, ambiguous high pitch to her voice that might have been humor or might have been discomfort. Harry wasn't sure, immediately.

"Let's see..." Bellatrix said. She released Harry's hair and circled him a few times, taking in every detail. There was not chance that she missed the bite marks all over his neck and surrounding his nipple.

"The Dark Lord..." she said.

Harry bit down a number of sarcastic comments, deciding instead that it was better to leave the identity of his... partner... at least somewhat ambiguous.

Bellatrix began laughing again. "I can't say I'm surprised. He's never done it before, but I've never heard of him stopping the others from doing it, and it probably did you some good, you arrogant little bitch." There was something very dark in her voice, though she continued laughing. Harry wasn't sure what it meant, but he was quite sure he didn't like it. She grabbed his chin and made him look her in her cold eyes. "I hope you know what an unparalleled honor it is for a worthless half-blood to have the Dark Lord's cock in him."

Harry tugged away quickly. "Do you know, Bellatrix? Outside of your dreams, I mean?"

"Crucio!"

Harry dove to his right and missed the curse, then spun quickly. "Your master said you're not allowed to hurt me!"

Bellatrix stopped and put her wand back in her pocket. "Indeed he did," she said. "Very well. Go to your room, baby Potter. There are other ways of taking care of an impudent slut."

Harry just swore and wasted no time getting to his room.

~*~

Hermione didn't have time to do anything but gasp as arms wrapped around her from behind and a face buried itself in her neck, smelling her hair. Her wand was lifted from her pocket and thrown behind her before she could reach for it. "Hello there, pretty little mudblood..."

The rancid breath nearly made Hermione gag, and the feeling of her captor's breath over her neck made her skin crawl. She was on the ground floor of Malfoy Manor, trying not to let her nerves at the thought of seeing the Dark Lord, and no doubt speaking to him directly after the meeting about the work she'd handed in last night, destroy her. The next Death Eater meeting was just upstairs, due to begin in an hour or so. Hermione knew that a number of the Death Eaters would be that early, but she'd had no particular desire to be one of them, so she'd made herself scarce near the kitchen. She hadn't imagined that anyone would actually come after her.

Her captor chuckled. "Aren't you going to talk to me, mudblood?"

"I—h-half-blood..." Hermione said, struggling but not managing to break the man's grip.

"Now now..." the man said, "Don't try that. Everyone knows better. You're just a filthy little stain on our organization... and if you were a half-blood, you wouldn't be much better. I am so fucking sick of those half-bloods coming in and gaining favor with the Dark Lord." He touched his wand to Hermione's throat, just beneath her chin, at the very top of her turtleneck. Hermione redoubled her struggles, but it was useless. She couldn't break his grip. "Stop that," he said. He began to move his wand slowly downward and, to Hermione's simultaneous relief and horror, it cut open her robes, not her skin. He sliced through the cloth clear to Hermione's hips, then stopped and casually pushed them over Hermione's shoulders.

Hermione turned frantically, hoping to scratch his eyes or at least slap him hard, but he caught her hand and cut her bra off her hastily, then pushed her to the floor in nothing but her knickers.

Hermione screamed as loudly as she could before rolling over and moving for her wand.

"Now what was the point in that?" Macnair said, levitating her wand into his hand. "No one is going to come for a stupid mudblood slut like you. What's there to protect?" He chuckled and took a few steps closer to her.

Hermione backed away from her, but quickly found herself pressed against a wall.

"Don't be so nervous. It's not like I'm going to kill you. Not if you're good, any—"

"Sectumsempra."

The tips of the three longest fingers of Macnair's left hand fell to the ground in bloody heaps. Macnair screamed and turned around quickly, the killing curse out of his mouth before he was even able to see his assailant.

Snape watched calmly as it rushed by, two feet to his left, and cracked the Malfoy's drywall.

"Crucio."

Macnair dropped both his wand and Hermione's when he hit the ground in agony. Hermione told herself that she should move for her wand, but couldn't will herself to get any closer to the man. Instead, she stood and ran for the nearest room to her, a bathroom. She slammed the door and locked it, but remained near the door to listen to the conversation that took place once Macnair's screaming died.

"Fuck you, Severus. You go straight for cutting bits off? What is this slut to you?"

"I don't see what that matters. Be glad I chose those bits and not bits far dearer to you."

There was a second of silence, then Macnair laughed. "Ooooh. I've got it. If you wanted her, you might have just said something. I guess it's for the best. Your blood's already ruined. I won't fight you."

"You would be very wise not to," Snape said. "If I catch you even getting near her again, I will kill you. In fact, put the word around so thateveryone knows that."

"Fine. I'll see you at the meeting, I suppose."

"And Macnair?"

"Huh?"

"Longbottom, too."

Macnair chucked. "Fine. Fine."

Things were quiet for a minute, then there was a knock on the bathroom door.

"Ms. Granger, please come out. I am not going to hurt you."

Hermione stayed where she was. Snape waited several seconds and sighed.

"I don't intend to rape you either, Ms. Granger."

Hermione took a deep breath, but it didn't help much. She had to go out there, sometime, though. You're not safe here, either, she reminded herself. She turned on the sink, let it run for a moment until it was as cold as she could get it, and then she splashed the icy water over her face once, twice, thrice... five times before she felt she'd suppressed the tears that were begging to fall and gotten enough of a grip on herself to even think about opening the door.

"Ms. Granger..."

She looked around for a towel or something to cover herself with, but it was only a half-bath and there was nothing bigger than the hand-towel to use. Still, the hand-towel was better than nothing. She draped it over her breasts and tucked it under her arms before she unlocked the door and opened it.

Snape had removed his traveler's cloak and was holding it out to her. Hermione grabbed it quickly slipped it on. She had to hold it closed, but it was certainly better than walking back to her room topless They stared at each other in silence for a moment, then Hermione realized that she probably owed him a thank-you and gave it.

Snape just sighed and shook his head. "You should stay close to me," he said. "You're not anyone's favorite Death Eater and that's not going to change anytime soon."

"I'm Neville's favorite," Hermione said.

Snape rolled his eyes. "He would probably be even wiser than you to stay close to me. The two of you shouldn't go thinking that you're safe just because the Dark Lord himself has decided not to hurt you."

"Do you really think that I am thinking that right now?" Hermione said, a bit more harshly than she'd intended. Snape began to lead her toward the stairs, and she realized that she was shaking.

Snape stopped for a second and looked at her curiously. "No. I suppose I don't think you're thinking that. Still, all the more reason for you to stay near me. I may be just a filthy half-blood myself, but I'm a filthy half-blood that the Dark Lord is quite fond of and who is quite quick with a curse. Your enemies know better than to make themselves my enemies."

"And if I can't trust Albus Dumbledore's murderer, who can I trust?"

Snape opened his mouth, but seemed to decide against his first answer. He shut his mouth for a second before speaking again. "Who indeed?" he said before he began to walk again.

He waited three seconds, then turned around to find Hermione following him.

He felt rather smug about that, and he knew that it showed on his face. "Lead the way to your room, Ms. Granger. I doubt you'll be bothered again, but it won't hurt for me to remain near you until I leave."

Hermione nodded. Unfortunately, to get to her room they had to walk to walk right past a rather large gathering a Death Eaters, and very few of them let the fact that Snape had staked some kind of claim to her stop them from snickering and getting as much of an eyeful as they could of her exposed midriff and legs. By the time Hermione actually made it back to her room, she was trembling violently and a quick glance in the mirror told her she was absolutely scarlet from the top of her head down to her neck.

She quickly selected the thickest and most conservative robe from the collection that she'd inherited from Narcissa, and then covered it with her Death Eater cloak and mask. Wearing them was not required at planned meetings that were taking place in someone's house, since the risk of being caught was fairly low, but a number of Death Eaters wore them to every meeting anyway—general anti-social Death Eaters who cared more about their identity being protected from spies—and Hermione was in a mood to have every part of her body as covered as it could possibly be.

Hermione looked at herself in the mirror one more time, Death Eater mask and all, and was shocked by the fact that she felt... almost better with it on. She looked more powerful, more frightening, and generally like a force to be reckoned with rather than a pathetic teenage girl who wasn't safe in the house where she was being forced to sleep. Between her own dangerous appearance and Snape's dangerous presence, she almost felt that she could survive this meeting, and perhaps the ones that would follow.

Hermione felt awkward about having Snape right outside of her room. Something within her was screaming that she shouldn't trust any man just then and that she needed to be careful that she hadn't been rescued from one rapist only to go right into the arms of another, but at the same time, she believed him when he'd said he had no intention of hurting or raping her. Maybe it was the years she'd spent thinking of him asprofessor Snape that made it difficult to reconcile his image with that of a rapist, or maybe it was something about the look in his eyes, but she really believed that he didn't want to see her hurt.

Still, Dumbledore had probably believed that, too. She'd have to be on her guard. Let him keep her safe while they were in public, and she'd keep herself safe from him when they were in private.

She cast a supersensory charm on herself that she didn't intend to remove any time soon, and then promised herself she'd spend some time in the Malfoys' library later, reading over some of the books of curses, for her own protection.

She bent down to pick up Snape's traveler's cloak, and heard a sob break from her lips. She froze. She'd actually thought for a minute there that she was doing rather well. She picked the cloak up and took three very deep breaths, then opened the door.

Snape was casually leaning against the wall. He looked for a moment as though he wanted to say something about her wearing the complete Death Eater uniform, but he must have changed his mind. He took his cloak back, and Hermione found herself battling with a desire to get closer to him, as though her protection from the other Death Eaters exponentially increased based on how close to him she was, but also to stay far enough away from him that he wouldn't be able to grab her. She settled on walking just within his reach as they headed toward the room where the meeting would take place.

"Ms. Granger..." Snape said as they walked back, "I don't suppose you know why Macnair suddenly found the courage to attack you?"

Hermione's stomach flipped. How long had he wanted to do that?! She barely managed to keep her lunch in. Not trusting herself to open her mouth, she just shook her head.

"You haven't heard the rumors?"

Hermione shook her head again. Rumors? She didn't make a habit of gossiping with Death Eaters.

Snape sighed. "Then I suppose it's better that you hear from me than from Bella..." Snape's voice got suddenly much tighter, as though he himself were suppressing tears. "Please know, though, that I get absolutely no pleasure from being the one to deliver this news..."

"Professor..." Hermione said.

"I'm not your professor anymore," Snape said harshly. Then he stopped and sighed. "The Dark Lord raped Potter, or so Bellatrix has been telling everyone."

Hermione stopped. Her entire world screeched to a half and for a minute straight she could do nothing but stand there, opening and closing her mouth as she tried to form a coherent response. Finally, she managed, "No..."

Snape sighed.

"No," Hermione said, more sternly. "He didn't! He couldn't! I just—there's no way..."

"I am not certain, myself," Snape said. "The Dark Lord has not... done this sort of thing before, that I am aware, but he has certainly never objected when other Death Eaters..." Snape sighed. "I will ask him about it later. It is my most sincere hope that Bella is lying, but I am not certain."

"And you'll just believe him?"

"I believe," Snape said, "That if the Dark Lord has really done what Bella claims he has done, he will be transparent about it. He has nothing to fear from admitting to it. There are very few Death Eaters who'd object to Mr. Potter being hurt... And, for Bella's part, if she has lied, she will be dealt with."

"Why would she tell a lie like that?"

"Why indeed..." Snape said. "I must admit, I find it rather out of character for her. Bella has long liked to fancy that she alone could earn the privilege of sharing the Dark Lord's bed, and I doubt that fancy would remain unshaken if the Dark Lord began to bring unwilling partners to his bed. I have a strong suspicion that she is deeply delusional on this matter and that Antonin Dolohov was never entirely truthful about what first drew him into the Dark Lord's circle... but that was decades ago, at Hogwarts... before even Bella was born. Bella has never taken the rumors particularly seriously. I am certain that if Bella really believes what she's saying, she isn't nearly as happy about it as she is giving everyone the impression she is."

"Is that a problem for Harry?"

"I sincerely hope not. The Dark Lord believes that Harry is safe with the Lestranges. I disagree, but he has twice denied my request to have the boy moved into my custody. I don't think he's quite forgotten..." A distant looked passed over Snape's face, and Hermione quickly got the impression that he'd forgotten she was there.

"What?"

"Hm? Oh, nothing. I do not think it would be in my own best interest to ask a third time."

Hermione nodded. They walked the rest of the way to the Death Eater meeting in silence, and Snape casually took a seat, ignoring the dirty looks he got from Macnair and a few others. Hermione sat on the floor near his legs, and when Neville arrived he joined her and she wrapped her arms around him and held him tightly without a word throughout the entire meeting. Neville didn't ask why, but seemed just as glad to have her arms around him as she was to have his around her.

True to his word, when the meeting ended Snape rose and waited for the Dark Lord to acknowledge him, but when the Dark Lord wandered over to him, it was Hermione and Neville he first spoke to.

Neville's grip on Hermione tightened slightly. Hermione sat up straighter, as though to shield Neville from Voldemort. Both, however, did their best to look subservient in spite of these small gestures.

"Careful, Longbottom," Voldemort said. "Not many people will approve of the two of you making half-blood babies in the middle of these meetings."

Neville opened his mouth to respond, but Voldemort didn't give him time.

"You're joining the raid in Nottingham tomorrow night. Report to Lucius for details."

Neville shut his mouth.

Voldemort raised an eyebrow pointedly.

"Yes, my lord," Neville muttered.

Voldemort turned to Hermione. "Your alchemy was perfect," he said. "But you used your own blood in the calculations."

"Is that a problem?"

"Not if you're hoping to be caught with irrefutable evidence. Think about these things, next time."

Hermione nodded. "Yes, my lord."

Snape decided to intervene there, for Hermione and Neville's sake as much as for the sake of putting his own worries at rest. "My lord, if I may have a word in the other room...?"

Voldemort sighed, but consented. They moved quickly into the guest bedroom across the hallway, and Snape decided to just be blunt, "My lord, are the rumors about you and Potter true?"

"The rumors about me and Potter?" Voldemort said. His posture straightened suddenly and his eyes narrowed very slightly. "I was not aware of any rumors."

Snape sighed. "Did you rape Potter, my lord?" Seeing the look that came into his master's eyes at this, Snape quickly added, "I ask merely because I worry about the impudence in the ranks if there are those who would spread rumors about you without being very certain they're true."

The look of fury melted from the Dark Lord's face. He sighed. "No, Severus, I have not raped Potter. I would thank you to put the word around that she does not have her facts straight on the matter of what happened in my bedroom last night, and that she would do well to recant her claims and not speak any more about this until she does have her facts straight."

"My lord, on the subject of having our facts straight, if I may inquire as to—"

"You may not, Severus."

Snape flinched. "Very well. You're right, my lord. Of course. I overstepped my bounds. I will go speak with Bellatrix. Good night."

"Good night, Severus."

Snape slipped back into the meeting room and found Hermione and Neville standing by the door, looking at him eagerly. Hermione had filled Neville in on everything while Snape was speaking to the Dark Lord, and Neville was, if anything, even more horrified than Hermione was to think that Voldemort might have violated Harry.

Snape just shook his head without saying a word to them.

They both sighed and slumped in visible relief, though Neville still looked slightly green. Snape wasn't sure whether that was for Harry's sake or for his own sake. Neville was not the sort of boy that Snape could imagine handling a raid very well.

"You should go, Longbottom," Snape said. "Granger, I understand if you want to stay in this room until all of the others have left..."

Hermione nodded. She and Neville hugged each other tightly one last time and said their goodbyes before Neville disapparated away.

Snape turned to find Bella laughing about something with her sister and immediately headed toward her.

"Bella..." he said as politely as he could.

She looked at him as though he was something the cat had just spit up. Narcissa, for her part, walked around Bella and gave him a quick hug.

"The Dark Lord has requested that I tell you that it would be in your own best interest not to gossip about him without first getting your facts checked," Snape said. He didn't quite yell it, but he was careful to say it loudly enough that everyone around would hear. A good majority of the Death Eaters had stuck around to talk to each other and drink as much of the Malfoys' wine as they could before Lucius threw them out, so making it clear that the rumors would false in this setting would likely put them to rest for good.

Bellatrix froze. "But I saw... and the boy said that... and that means that—"

"Bella," Snape said, "Think very carefully about what you are about to say. The Dark Lord will not be amused if you recant one rumor you started about him only to immediately replace it with another."

Bella was clearly burning the entire manor down with her eyes. "You're right, Severus." Addressing the room as a whole, she said, "Forgive me. I was apparently mistaken on some things."

The room gave a collective shrug and appeared to be over it almost immediately.

Snape looked from Bella to Narcissa and forced a smile. "Forgive me for interrupting you."

"It was quite alright," Bella said. "I need to go home and have a discussion with a certain other half-blood anyway..."

Narcissa opened her mouth as though to say something, but Bella was gone before she got the chance.

Narcissa gave a rather indignant 'humf' and turned to Snape. "Not so much as a 'goodbye!'"

Snape shook his head. "Your sister always has been quite the charmer."
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Last Chance