Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

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
- 3
- 4
- 5
Chapter Four: Months and Months
“What's he gonna do with us, Sir?” Seamus asked as he tried for a comfortable position in the tight enclosure. In the third cage, Blaise leaned away from them and was silent.
“Why would you ask me, O'Connell? And since I am neither a teacher or in a position of any authority, please cease calling me that.”
“What should I call you?”
“Just call me . . .Snape, like Harry used to do.”
“Okay, Could you call me Seamus? I know he did something to my last name, since even I can't say it, but I'd rather not be reminded of it, too much.”
“All right, Seamus. I could tell you about the spell, if you'd like.”
“No, thanks anyhow, Snape.” Seamus shifted and hit a sore spot. “I could sure use a pain potion. How do you manage?”
“Manage? Seamus, what are you asking?”
“Hasn't he . . . with you?”
“No, I have not had the pleasure. My purpose is as a punching bag, so far. Perhaps, the Dark Lord has higher standards for his lovers, than I can meet.”
“I'd rather you hadn't put it that way.” Seamus looked over at the dark-skinned Slytherin. “He's pretty quiet, isn't he?”

Snape looked at the third cage. “That may be because he is unconscious.”
“He is? I guess that's a good reason. I wonder what he went through.”
“Since he has no physical evidence, I would speculate that he has experienced a series of Cruciatus curses. It can have that effect.”
“That's pretty cold, Snape. Don't you even care? He was one of yours, wasn't he?”
“In fact, Seamus, I am very concerned. If I could do something, I would, but in here, with the present standing I have, I would do more harm than good for him. So, I plan to show no concern for either of you, and hope you manage to live through this.”
“Sorry?”
“A piece of advice for you, one that you will likely ignore, if the Dark Lord makes a request, or orders something done, do not fight him. He has not dosed you with anything, so he's leaving you with free will for a reason. He expects rebellion and will be more than happy to punish you for it.”
“You want me to bow down to that . . . ?”
“Better to bow today, than to die and never stand tall again. If you live to see the day when escape becomes possible, you should try to be in a good condition to make that escape. I would appreciate it if you were healthy enough to take me with you, since I may not fare as well.”
“I'll do it, Snape. If we can escape, I'll help you, too.” Silence fell over the two for some time and Seamus fiddled with a scrape of his long ruined clothing.
Blaise moaned and Seamus turned his way, “If we live, all of us, you will not be able to save us all. You should only help the one most likely to survive. I would not appreciate it, if you saved me because of your prejudice to the students of my house. If Mr. Zabini is well enough, you should help him.”
Seamus sighed. “First, the Dark Lord said that there were no houses, now. I know something about prejudice. Harry told me, before he left the school in sixth year, why it was wrong. He said that he had refused to let the bloody hat place him in Slytherin because of something Ron said. He'd let Ron prejudice him against one fourth of our class, from the first day of school.”
“Potter could have been a Snake?”
“Secondly, if I can only help one of you, and one of you is in better shape, I'll expect that one to help me, help the other. We'll all get free!”
“Spoken like a true Gryffindor.” Blaise croaked from his cage. “There's no way He'll be able to get rid of those connections.”
“Mr. Zabini, how are you faring?”
“My insides feel like they've been moved to the outside.”
“How about your head? And your extremities?”
“My hands are tingling and my feet are numb. My head's just a little foggy.”
“Cruciatus, but not for a terminal length. You'll be fine, so long as he waits a day before doing it again.”
“Oh, he'll do it again. He's already promised me. I'm supposed to procreate, but I've got a road block to that path.”
“He told me that, too, but he didn't crucio me?”
“Yeah, well you are probably straight.”
“Mr. O'Connell is a Gryffindor. They are notoriously straight. In fact, I only know of one confirmed homosexual in that house.”
“Hey, just cause I don't like to take it up the arse.”
“Mr. O'Connell!”
“Yeah, O'Connell, some of us do like to take it up the arse.” Blaise shifted again, turning just enough to see the other cages. “Or, we like to put it there.”
“Mr. Zabini, do not be crass.”
“Right, cause this is one of those high class social situations.” Snape snorted and Seamus smiled, but Blaise couldn't see it in the darkened room. “Professor, what are we going to do?”
“I am in no conditions to give advice. I am going to do whatever the Dark Lord tells me to. Any other course of action will lead to a great deal of pain.”
“I've got a feeling that there's going to be that in my future.” Blaise said with a grunt that said his last shift had given him just that.
Tracey threw up in her bucket for the third morning straight and had been taken directly to the throne room where she was forced to her knees in front of the Dark Lord.
“So, how are you feeling Miss Davis?” he asked.
“I'm fine, My Lord. I was feeling ill this morning, but I'm better now.”
“That is to be expected. It has been over a month since you're impregnation, and I believe we will need to locate a responsible medi-witch for you. I am granting you a move to a more comfortable facility. You will leave in five days. First, you may want to spend some time with your friends. I'll arrange for a tea. How does that sound?”
“Lovely, My Lord.” Tracey answered.
“Good. You will tell them how pleased you are with your pregnancy, all of the benefits and joy you feel, but none of the less desirable effects. I want them brimming with excitement when their turn comes. You will also refrain from divulging the father of your child.”
“Neville?” Tracey said.
“Yes. Young Mr. Longbottom has proven to be a worthwhile boy, so he may be of further use for me. Once your child is born, and if it is a boy, he will be expendable, but for now . . . .”
“May I say goodbye to him, My Lord?”
“You want to?” when Tracey nodded, the Dark Lord laughed and stood from the throne. “Then, I'll allow the young lovers to say their farewells. Go now, eat well and care for yourself and my little grandchild.” and she was dismissed.
Adrian was held in a cell, just down the corridor from the Weasleys. He had heard their concerns over their youngest brother, but wasn't able to help. His vows as a healer, along with his devotion to the plight of muggleborns and half-bloods, was driving him crazy. He had been snatched from his post in the traumatic spell damage area of St. Mungo's and forced to his knees in front of the Dark Lord.
“As you can see, Mr. Pucey. I am in need of a potions master and healer. My previous situation cannot be salvaged.” the snake-faced man said, indicating the wretch in a cage nearby. Adrian barely recognized his mentor in the abused flesh of the man in the cage. He glared up at the Dark Lord and waited for him to continue. “You see what becomes of those who disappoint me, but I made a mistake with Severus. I killed the one most important to him, and lost the control I could have had. In your case, I will not be so hasty. Bring out the girl.”
Dolohov came into the room with a filthy rag of a girl, her bruised face so familiar to Adrian that it might have been his own. “Laurette?” he whispered, but the Dark Lord heard it.
“Yes, your darling sister. She has been very cooperative, so far. If she continues, if you and I can come to an agreement, then she will have an adequate existence here. If not . . .” a scaly hand reached out and displayed the cages to his side once more.
“What do you want me to do?” Adrian asked, and his sentence began.
Now, as he waited for his first patient or next brewing order, he was forced to listen to the moans and screams of the other prisoners, just out of his reach and healing abilities. It was worse torture than any of them could imagine.
Already he had brewed seven hundred bottles of Skel-e-gro, fifty doses of fertility potion, a thousand vials of each of the three different blood replenishing potions and five cases each of calming draughts, dreamless sleep potions and veritaserum. He didn’t like the thoughts that came with those combinations and hoped he had not just aided Voldemort in doing some major damage to his peers and the other children that had attended Hogwarts with him.
Angelina Johnson had been held in a cell with Ginny, Katie Bell, the Patil sisters and Susan Bones. She was hungry, because she was not as aggressive as some of the others, and they were only fed one large bowl of food, that they were supposed to share. Even Gryffindors forgot to be noble when they were hungry. Angelina leaned against the bars, wondering how long it would be before the jailers stopped feeding them, letting them die of starvation or start attacking each other in desperation. Already, she had seen the twins moving away from each other with wary looks on their faces.
The silence of the lower cells, a part of the Ministry that many forgot was here, was haunting and depressing, almost as if it was the realm of dementors. Angelina hated it here. It was more than the hunger, the cold, the silence or the smell. It was the waiting and anticipating and fearing, because one-by-one they had dwindled down to the number that was here. There had once been twenty girls in this cell, and the six remaining had no idea what had become of their cell sisters, or when it would be their turn to be taken away, stripped naked in the corridor and sprayed down with some strong smelling potion before being carried away by robed and masked men.
The rattle of the chains on the outer door stopped Angelina's pondering and sent the coven of witches into motion. They gathered together, huddled really, frightened beyond their previous mistrust, into a mass of shivering, quaking female flesh. Ginny was at the center, standing the proudest of them all each time the death eaters came.
Angelina was pulled from the group, stripped and dosed, shackled and dragged down the long corridor. It was the last time she saw the other five girls for the rest of the year. She was pushed into a room, just a closet with a cot and a pail, and a tray of food was left on the floor before the wards closed and she was trapped inside. She grabbed the tray, knowing that it could be poisoned or dosed with drugs or potions, but after the little she had eaten, it mattered little to the starving Gryffindor girl. She was sitting on the bed, finishing the last of the bread and water, when she heard a voice call out.
“Who are you?”
“I’m Angelina. Angelina Johnson.” She answered.
“From Gryffindor?” the voice asked.
“Yeah. I was a lion, now I’m more like a kitten.”
“Good. Doesn’t do you any good to be brave, up here. I’m Daphne. Daphne Greengrass. My sister Astoria is down the hall. We were Slytherins. Up here, the Dark Lord doesn’t allow any house affiliations. We’re slaves, now. You should remember to call him My Lord and don’t look up unless he tells you to. Do what you’re told and you might get to leave like Tracey, though I don’t know what her new rooms are going to be like.”
“Tracey Davis? I knew her.” Angelina said with a sigh.
“She’s leaving to have her baby. The Dark Lord rewards new mothers. He wants more pure, or at least more than half, bloods. He’s started a breeding program that will make lots of them with mixtures of parents so that there isn’t so much inbreeding.”
“Eugenics. I read about it in a muggle book about a tyrant that wanted to breed more children in one image and used genocide to kill off the breeds that he didn’t like. He was evil, too.”
“You should try not to say stuff like that. The guards listen, sometimes. They report to Him and He will punish you.”
“Thanks. I’ll keep that in mind. What has he done to you?”
“Nothing, yet. He feeds us and has us taken out for exercise, lets us shower and read, but other than that, nothing.”
“That’s an improvement on where I was. Not much food, almost no water and definitely no baths or reading material. This is like heaven, compared to the lower cells.”
“Until he is ready to breed you.” Daphne’s voice had a hollow sound that caused Angelina to shiver.
“I'm only half-blooded myself. Why would he bring me here? I doubt he wants me as part of his breeding program.”
“They also bring girls up here for the straight death eaters. The ones who aren't married or have lost their wives. It's like dark wizard prostitution. I don't think any of those girls are kept in these rooms, so I think he plans you for his program. If you're only half, that might be alright for a full pure-blood. I know there's a death eater that would like a girl of your looks and coloring. He favors dark beauties.”
“Great. I've got a fan, already.” Angelina sighed and dropped onto the bed, hoping a little sleep would make things seem better.

“Come here, Severus.” Voldemort called in a sickly sweet voice. “I want to play.”
Never had the man heard more hateful words, but his life was to serve, and now he had no choice. He had swallowed the Servitude Potion and he was bound to the man until one of them died, and he did not suppose the Dark Lord planned to allow him that pleasure very soon. He walked the distance to the lounge where Voldemort reclined, the weights on his body swaying painfully as he did, and stopped when a hand rose to direct him. “Yes, My Lord.”
“You are doing so well that I fear I must reward you. I do wish you would misbehave more often, because punishing you is so much more rewarding . . . for me.” Voldemort reached out and tapped the dangling weight that hung from his scrotum, enticing a groan from the servant before he could force it back. The weights had been installed shortly after the Battle and he had worn them ever since. His balls hung down, longer than they had been, and this aided the weights in their swing. His cock had also been tethered, but this contraption kept it docile and disallowed it to become erect. What few times arousal overcame him, it was painful to the point of tears. Add to these devices, the two clips that had been strung from nipple rings, that had also stretched these to nearly a half an inch in length, and a plug that kept him full in case the Dark Lord wanted to use his arse, and Severus was only allowed a harness for other clothes. Often, when there was someone in the room, a penis shaped gag was added to his ensemble, but that was not the case for today.
“I only wish to please you, My Lord.”
“Of course, you do. Now, spread yourself and bend over. I want to check your plug. I think you may need a larger one, eh?”
Severus turned, bent at the waist and spread his feet apart. When they were over a foot distance from each other, the Dark Lord waved his wand and a bracing bar snapped into place, forcing him to keep this position. He could feel the plug being maneuvered, felt the drag of the weights on his nipple chains and the swing of his ball weights. This was his new life.
“Yes. I think that it needs replacing. I'll make that your reward. I'll give you a new plug, some heavier weights and I think a tattoo is in order. I want to mark you, again. What do you say to that, Severus?”
“Thank you, My Lord.”
Later that night, with his nipples aching and his arse stretched from the new plug, Severus was treated to his first round of anal penetration, while his elongated balls were stuffed into his body along with the staff of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Disobeyed. To make the point of this being about punishment, and not sex, his head was covered by a cowl and his face pushed into a pillow so he could barely breathe around his gag, and so the Dark Lord did not have to see his ugliness. The battering slapped painfully on the Dark Lord's newest artwork, a snake coiled around a mouse, preparing to swallow it, that adorned his left arse cheek.
The verbal torment was nearly as torturous as the physical, and the fact that he was regularly on display for those who had kept his Master's approval, rounded out his life of slavery. It would have been so much preferred if he had only been allowed to die on that dirty floor, so many months ago.
The crucios had stopped, the world was not spinning and Blaise thought he might not throw up. He was seated at a table with a full array of dishes before him, spoons, but no forks, and three glasses filled with various liquids. One looked like red wine, the other like butterbeer and the third was water with tiny chips of ice floating on the surface. Blaise was no fool. He picked up the water glass, sniffed it and put it to his lips. At this point being poisoned or drugged was the lesser problem to dying of thirst. The water was the most delicious thing he could remember tasting.
When he had finished his meal, was wiping his face with a napkin and leaning back in the chair, the door opened and Voldemort came in. Blaise dropped to his knees, eyes to the floor and hands behind his back. He only peeked at the table one more time, to say good-bye to his meal before it was gone, with the simple wave of a wand. “Did you enjoy your food, Mr. Zabini?” the Dark Lord asked and Blaise nodded quickly.
“Yes, My Lord.” He said.
“And are you quite rested?”
“Yes, My Lord.” Blaise started to shake.
“Would you like to sleep in a real bed tonight?” it was getting more suspicious by the minute and Blaise swallowed hard.
“Yes, My Lord?”
“Not a question, Mr. Zabini. Either you would or you wouldn’t.”
“I would, My Lord.”
“Then, I shall let you. . . . As soon as you prove that you can do as I wish. I have a friend that you will sleep with, if you are able to perform. She has promised to do her part, to help you.”
“I want to obey you, My Lord. I really do. But, I just can’t make myself want her.” Blaise shook as he spoke, but the snake-faced wizard put his hand on the dark Italian’s face.
“We are here to help you, Mr. Zabini. We will do whatever it takes to help you overcome this little problem. It will be fine. Just come with me.” And the hand held firmly to Blaise’s head and apparated them to another room. Here, where there was only a bed and some chairs, the latter filled with witches and wizards in dark robes with shiny silver masks, he was released and left to climb up on the mattress. Once there, the Dark Lord bound him, spread eagle and stretched just tightly enough to keep him from squirming. “Now, just lay here and enjoy. Oh, and I have a little something to make you more cooperative. Give me the flask, Crabbe.”
Before Blaise could protest, a liquid was being poured into his mouth and his throat, massaged to help him swallow, and it went to work quickly. His cock sprung to life, shooting up to stand tall over his short curls and flat belly. He looked down, saw the thing bobbing of its own volition and sighed grandly. “Thank you, My Lord.” He said flatly as the tyrant leaned down and tapped on his erect penis, making it dance for the audience.
“Bring in the girl.” Voldemort said, moving away and finding a seat at the side near Blaise’s face. He leaned back and smiled as the door above the bound boy’s head was opened and a female was forced into the room. She hovered at the doorway for a minute, but slowly moved toward her goal, looking around at the hidden faces of the assembled death eaters.
When she reached the bed, she climbed on and straddled Blaise’s hips. He looked up and began to struggle against his bonds. “Millie? What are you doing?” he cried.
“Just relax, Blaise. I know what happens and He said that the potion will do the rest. I’ll do all of the work. Please, Blaise. If I get pregnant, I can go with Tracey and get out of those rooms. Just lie back and relax.” Millie crawled up and placed herself over the bound boy, taking his hard staff in her hands and holding it up to her body. She pushed down, feeling it enter her, finding a blockage and forcing it through. “Ahh! It hurts. He didn’t say it would hurt. Oh, no. I don’t think I can.”
“Millie. It’s just your body telling you that this is important. It only hurts for a second. Just try to bear it. I want you to go with Tracey. I want you to be out of here. I’ll try to help. I promise.”
“It hurts so bad, Blaise. How come no one told me it would hurt this bad?”
“I’m sorry, Millie. I didn’t know. I’ve never done this with a girl, so I didn’t know it was that bad. Please, bear with it, Millie. Try. If you can do it, we’ll both be all right.”
Millicent was pushing down, the tears running down her chubby cheeks and dripping onto Blaise’s chest. She reached his belly and tried to rise, but her legs were cramping and she could only shift forward and back a bit. After a few tries, she opened her eyes and looked down at him. “It’s a bit better, now. I’ll try to move like they said I should.” Putting her hands on Blaise’s pectorals, Millicent rose up and pulled herself off his dick, but she was dry and it burned, so neither of them enjoyed the sensation. When she pushed back down, he winced and her tears began again. She kept on, like a trooper, but her fluids were nonexistent and it was just getting worse. Soon, they were both soaked with her tears and she gave up, falling forward to lay against his chest and sob incoherently.
“Pull her off. That was a waste and not the least enjoyable for us. Take her back to her room and put him in his cage. He’s had his food for the next two days, so he can just rot there until then.” The Dark Lord rose and stormed from the room, Blaise was untied and dragged back to his tiny quarters, kicked a few times for good measure, and left to uncurl in his cage next to Seamus.
“Well, that went well.” He said with a wince as he tried to rise. “I think I may have a broken rib, but my virtue is secure.”
“Good that you can joke about it,” Snape said with a scowl.
“Gave it the old Hogwarts try, though. They sent Millie.”
“Oh.” Snape said with another scowl. He sighed and leaned back, hoping the Dark Lord chose to take out his anger on one of the followers that had escaped it thus far.
Neville was brought to the room where he had performed with the Slytherin girl. Tracey was sitting on the raised dais, her feet dangling and a clean looking tunic over her body. She looked like she had recently showered, in fact, her hair was still damp. She looked up as they were left alone, and smiled lightly at him. “So, they let you come. I was afraid he had lied about it. Com'ere.”
“What's going on, Tracey?” Neville asked as he walked down the slight incline in the floor, up to the girl and stood near her feet. He was still nude, so their unequal status was evident in her clothed condition.
“I'm leaving. He's sending me to someplace where I can be safer until your baby is born. I wanted to say goodbye, and thank you.”
“Thank you? For what? Raping you in front of an audience of dark wizards in masks and robes? For taking your virginity, without any form of personal affection? For following the orders of the new dictator of Britain and . . .”
“For giving me a way to escape the other alternatives. If I hadn't been brought here, to you, then I might have ended up in a worse predicament. I've heard that Pansy Parkinson was forced to marry Amycus Carrow. Just imagine who he might decide to honor with my hand?”
“That's awful. I never much liked her, but what did she do to deserve that?”
“Nothing. She was being honored, too. She didn't take it too well, I heard. Seems she's tried to escape three times, and now has no wand, no shoes and a collar that keeps her from leaving the house. The elves have standing orders to report anything she does, and if she tries anything else, there's a threat to dose her with a Servitude Potion.”
“I guess, you're right about this being better, but I still wish it hadn't been me.”
“Neville Longbottom, you were the kindest, sweetest and most attentive rapist a girl could ask for. Anyone else they send your way is lucky to have you instead of one of those others. Alicia Spinnet had Rabastan Lestrange, and that man was brutal. He left her with bruises all over her body, and she bled for three days, before He decided that it had been enough. She's still traumatized. Sits in her cubicle and whimpers for hours. She wouldn't eat the first day after it was over, and now barely does. It's all Professor McG . . . Mother Riddle can do to get a half serving into her.”
“The Professor comes to the girl's cubicles?”
“Yes. HE lets her come and see us, just to make it more obvious what He's doing to us. She gives us chocolate and sits with the ones like Alicia. I'll miss her, the most. I'm leaving tomorrow, so this is goodbye, I guess.” Tracey leaned forward and smiled coyly. “Could you . . .”
“What?”
“Kiss me goodbye. It's the least the father of my child could do.”
Neville smiled and put his hands on her thighs, leaning in to meet her half way. He kissed her sweetly, just a peck, but she caught his face and held it there. Her kiss was more forceful, dragging whatever emotion she needed from him and letting her lips part so that he could deepen the kiss if he wanted. He let his tongue wander into the depths of her mouth, mapping it out and memorizing it for when his nights got too long to stand. He would remember Tracey Davis no matter what the Dark Lord forced him to do. “Thanks. I figure it will be a long time before I'm allowed to be alone with anyone. I wanted to pretend that this was just us, snogging in a forbidden way, in some secret hide-away. It was nice. Goodbye, Neville.”
“Goodbye, Tracey. I'll miss you.”
Seamus stayed on his knees, his head down and his hands together on his lap. The Dark Lord had apparated them into this room, where many of the Death Eaters were gathered and they jeered at him harshly. He didn't want to see them, their faces hidden by masks, but those masks made-to-order by the witch or wizard that wore it, and the face there was indicative of the personality it obscured. Seamus kept his eyes down.
“Today, we will continue to resurrect the O'Connell line from southern Ireland. I have with me, Seamus O'Connell, son of Lannie O'Connell. He is the only member of the family among us, so he has volunteered to accommodate us. Haven't you, Mr. O'Connell?”
Seamus kept his head down, but let his chin rise and fall enough to appease Voldemort. The Dark Lord laughed and walked away. The door opened and a girl was thrown into the room, escorted by two more masked and caped followers. One cackled so insanely, he was sure it was Bellatrix, and he shuddered involuntarily. The three times he had been brought here, to perform for the gathered audience, he was comforted by the anonymity of the death eater garb, but now he had a face to put with a mask. Evidence of the hidden witch's identity.
The girl was pushed up to kneel in front of him, and he could see her legs, up to her dark haired sex, within his field of vision. Her skin was tanned, or just naturally darker, and her hair was thick at the apex of her thighs. She shivered, but it was not due to the cold of the room. Her fear fed the laughter of the watching witnesses and Seamus was afraid she would panic when he had to begin.
“Now, I know that this is your first time to my auditorium, Miss Edgecomb, but you'll do fine. The rules are simple. You lay back and let Mr. O'Connell do all of the work, and you will be rewarded when you are done. If you fail, then you will be punished. You see, I can only guarantee your virginity one time, and this is it. So, if your fans will be seated, we can begin.”
There was a general scuffling of feet and shifting of chairs, then silence filled the room. Seamus looked up to see a familiar face, though not a good friend, at least someone he knew. “Hi, Marietta. I'm sorry.” he said and she nodded jerkily. He stood up and pulled her to her feet, as well. They moved over to the mattress, and he eased her onto it. It was the least he could do, being careful with her and not making it more frightening or painful. He knew that he could fail to rape her, but that would be worse for her, because Voldemort would punish her and just give her to someone else. Someone less careful.
He tried to concentrate on the girl, but in the corner of his eyes he could see the tartan skirts he recognized as his head of house's, and the look of pure torture on the woman's face was worse than the look of fear in the girl under him's eyes. Seamus spread her legs, shifted between them and entered her, as slowly as possible, but still more painful for her than it would have been with someone she loved and wanted.
His body took over and left his mind behind. He closed his eyes and went away, riding his imagination to another place, where a still lake and a green meadow called to him, giving him room to run in the sun and fish in the water. He wasn't in the body that thrust into the dry channel of the frightened pure-blood girl and he wasn't the one that was forced to hurt her this way.
When his body climaxed, Seamus was sitting in a tree, looking over the meadow at the approaching rain and wondering if he'd ever see his friends again, Harry, Ron and Neville. Dean and Hermione were regularly brought into the throne room, their bodies haggard and thin, bruised and scarred by the abuse they endured. Seamus tried not to look, and now tried not to think, about those two. He dropped onto the soft breasts and sweet smelling neck of the Ravenclaw girl and was brought back by the sound of applause. He blushed and tucked his head into the dark hair that was spread out over the mattress, stuck to her forehead by the sweat that had formed during her ordeal.
“Very good, O'Connell. But, I'm afraid the girl didn't enjoy it as much as you did. So, she'll have to stay with you until she can. Take them to a room. I want two constant witnesses and continual potion administration. Give her an aphrodisiac. Maybe that will get her over her shyness.” Seamus was hauled to his feet and dragged away, followed by the girl and her guards. They were left in a small cubicle, where the bed was a small cot and the door was a strong ward. Marietta was given a potion, and she dropped onto the floor to curl up in tears.
“I'm sorry.” Seamus said but she shook her head.
“It's my fault. I knew what was going to happen and I tried to relax, but I was so scared. Now, we have to keep doing it, and it's my fault. I just didn't think it would be like that.”

The end of the jungle was near, only a few trees away, and Harry pushed aside the branches with weary hands. He stepped out of the tree line, and found himself on a long expanse of sand, lapped by waves of the purest turquoise. He walked down the beach, holding his hand over his eyes to block out the sharp rays of the sun, rising off the white sand to blind him. He couldn’t see the end of the beach and the jungle bordered the side that was opposite the water. He had to travel the length of it, so he started moving faster, hoping to find his way before too many people suffered from his absence.

AN: I'm not saying which part, but there is some foreshadowing in this last paragraph. I wonder if anyone can guess it.
Sara: I was picturing what a crazy murderous wizard would use, and the throne from Game of Swords came to mind, with a touch of Bones to make it more personal. Ghosts are not a major part of this, in fact they appear to be making themselves scarce, even though they are hardly in any danger. Lupin is not a ghost, in fact he's . . . Oh, I just can't say it!! Sorry.
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365 Days (1 year)