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Old Habits Die Hard	By : NihilEtNemo Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Snape Views: 12792 -:- 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
- 5
- 6
- 7
Title: Old Habits Die Hard

Author: setosgirl

Words: 5,179

Warnings: Slash, MPREG – this chap,
Little Spoiler if you haven’t yet read the 6^th book – I
say who the Halfblood Prince is, anyway.

Disclaimer: I do not now, nor have I ever, nor
shall I ever, own Harry Potter or any characters therein. I only own the plot.

Parings: Voldemort / Snape, Harry / Snape, Remus / Snape(?)

Summary: Snape’s secret mission for
the Order is revealed – Voldemort’s personal – hem hem – ‘slave’! Then the Dark Lord
makes a revelation that stuns him… and he blames Harry for everything.

Notes: Harry is seventeen, at the
beginning of his last year at the start of the story. By the end, it’ll
be the end of his last year.

Old Habits Die Hard

Chapter 6

setosgirl

“He’s been gone for two
weeks this time,” Ron said. “And he’s not in the hospital
wing, either, like he was last time. He’s just not here.”

Snape’s seat at the
teachers’ table had indeed gone apparently unnoticedly
empty for just over two weeks. It was becoming usual now to see it that way,
and nobody really seemed to care too much. Harry felt guilty, but even he
didn’t care too much, at last from a scholastic standpoint, and the less
said about his personal feelings, the better.

Hermione, on the other hand, was
distraught. “You realize,” she had said, “he’s supposed
to be teaching us things that are on the N.E.W.T.s!
That means, if he ‘s gone for two weeks at a time like this, we’re
never going to get the education we’re supposed to be getting, and
we’re never going to pass our N.E.W.T.s… We need him to come back. Or we need
another teacher. No-” she told him, seeing something in his face,
“no, I won’t try and mix up another spell… you saw Dumbledore
last time. I don’t dare.”

Hermione was right, of course. They
didn’t dare try to find out where he’d gone on their own… it
was out of the question. So what did that leave? Sitting here and waiting? He
couldn’t stand the thought… but that appeared to be it.

Then Dumbledore stood up at
breakfast. The Great Hall quieted immediately, the grave face of every student
and teacher focused on his somewhat tired, drawn-looking features.

“As you are all no doubt
aware, Professor Snape had not been in school for some time. I must admit that
it is unclear when, exactly, he shall return to take up his classes – or,
sadly, even if he shall return at all.”

At this statement, three of the
tables burst into spontaneous cheers and applause. It was well known that Snape
was not well liked… But Harry didn’t cheer. He couldn’t. Not
with what he’d seen… Hermione was also silent, with an affronted
look on her face, as though the cheers had been an insult aimed specially at
her. Ron, on the other hand, was a very verbal fan of Snape’s continued
absence from the school.

Dumbledore surveyed them sternly.
“One hundred points from every house except Slytherin,” he said
calmly, but Harry thought he could detect his anger there too. “That was
a disgraceful display. I do not think I have ever had occasion to be more
ashamed of my school. You do not seem to care that your classmates have lost
their head of House.” Eyes darted to the Slytherins from all over the
room; it was true, that every one of them had remained silent. Most looked
agitated in some way or another; Malfoy was positively ill-looking, and they
all seem to have lost some defiant spark, as though Snape’s abandonment
of them had been a real blow. Then Harry realized – had they actually liked the greasy git? Was it possible
that his House actually missed him?

“Plus, unpopular though he may
be, Professor Snape is still that – a professor,
and deserves to be treated with the same dignity and respect given to any other
member of the staff. I can only assume by your reaction that you would cheer
were it Professor McGonagall, say, who was to be missing from your classes? Or myself who had disappeared from the school? It is quite a
revelation, frankly.”

“It’s not like
that!” some brave Ravenclaw yelled out. “We didn’t mean it
that way – it’s just that Snape…”

“Professor Snape,” he corrected patiently. “I
understand. Even so, I highly disapprove.” He straightened up slightly to
look down at them all. “I should say, and should probably have mentioned
before, that Professor Snape has not asked for time off or taken a vacation. In
fact, he has gone missing, and we have very little idea where he may be.”
Silence greeted the statement – Harry was sure there were those who still
felt like cheering (Ron came to mind) but they held off, so as not to incur the
Headmaster’s anger.

Then a voice rose up from the
Slytherins. “What do you mean, professor?” Malfoy asked. He
didn’t look haughty or demanding… he just wanted to know where his
teacher was. In that moment, Harry felt a vague connection with the sadistic
blond boy; he was just human, after all, and there really was some good in him.

“I mean precisely that. He
seems to have left the castle and the grounds of his own free will some two
weeks ago, Disapparated… and has never returned since. He told no one
where he was going – or even that he was going. There are no real clues,
there has been no message. He has completely vanished. We do not even know if
it is of his own volition that he has done so – though I have little
doubt that he could if he wished – or if he was taken by… someone.”

Several people undoubtedly filled in
the ‘someone’ with a certain name. Others probably didn’t
even consider the idea that their teacher had been abducted by Lord Voldemort.
Harry knew he wanted to know what was going on, and he had a suspicion that there
were things Dumbledore was not telling the school as a whole.

“We are not even sure that
he’s alive,” Dumbledore finished.

Chaos erupted, mostly from the
Slytherins, but there were those among the other houses who found it a good
opportunity to start babbling madly, full of questions and exclamations, but
underlying everything from any of the three nicer houses, there was always the
sense of Yeah, but it’s
Snape…It was someone we knew, sure , but at
least it wasn’t someone we liked… It could have been worse…
If it was anyone, at least it was him… Harry was suddenly sick of the
whole thing. These people, just like he had two weeks ago, hated Snape just
because of what they saw in their daily interactions… because he was a
‘Bad Guy’ in this little drama they all called their lives, an
omnipresent minor villain just waiting to inconvenience them… because of
the hard face he put forward, the cold mask he wore that Harry had managed to
see behind without him even knowing it, and he felt for him like none of these
so-called ‘Good Guys’ in this little drama did.

“What are you doing to find
our teacher?” Malfoy demanded. Harry thought it was getting clearer and
clearer; Malfoy really did like Professor Snape. He was worried about him. He
wondered briefly how he would feel if all of this were applied to Professor
McGonagall… probably much the same way.

“Every search is being
made,” Dumbledore assured Malfoy and the other Slytherins. “Every
possible attempt at finding him is being made. However, as I said, we know
nothing, and there are precious few clues. I have not given up hope, and you
shouldn’t either. I am still optimistic about finding him.” Harry
saw Malfoy mutter something – probably about how it had been two weeks
already and nothing had turned up, so what made him think that anything was
going to change now?

“Until such time as that
occurs, however, we shall have a new Potions teacher – a substitute only,
not a replacement. He shall begin classes tomorrow. I wish you all to treat him
with as much respect as you do Professor Snape.” It was said calmly, even
kindly, but the phrase had the effect of making every non-Slytherin student in
the hall feel very small and a little dirty. “And, as Professor Snape was
the only ex-Slytherin employed at the school, he shall also act as your head of
House until your true one is returned.” Then he sat down again, and the
tables, after a moment, began talking amongst themselves.

Harry tried not to listen to any of
it. These people didn’t know Severus Snape – it was an insult for
them to even try to fathom the inner workings of his mind, to try to figure out
what he’d done, let alone why he had done it. He realized that he was
feeling strangely, oddly protective of Snape, as though he needed defended in
his own absence.. And he knew why. He felt guilty
because of what his father and godfather had done, and he wanted to try to make
it up to him somehow. He knew it wasn’t his place to make up for it, and
it would only hurt Snape – hurt him? or make him
angry? or were they both the same thing? – if he knew that he’d invaded his Pensieve like that.
He couldn’t help feeling that he had to make recompense for his greatest
tormentors, both of whom had been very special to Harry, and both of whom were
now dead. They couldn’t pay for it themselves, and he felt that someone
had to.

When he saw Dumbledore stand to
leave, Harry rose as well. He had to speak to him… he had to figure out
what was really going on… Shrugging off Ron and Hermione’s
questions, he followed him out and caught up with him in the hall.

“Professor-“
he started, but Dumbledore cut him off kindly. “Yes, Harry, I
thought you’d care to see me. My office, then?”
And without waiting for a reply, he led Harry silently to the gargoyle and up
into the room Harry felt he had been spending far too much time in recently.

“Professor,” he began
again, and Dumbledore looked at him kindly to continue. “What
aren’t you telling the others? I’m sure you didn’t say
everything…”

“That’s very true,
Harry. I am personally fairly convinced that he left because he had a summons,
in the form of his mark burning. He was to go to Voldemort… I don’t
know why he didn’t tell me, but it must have been fairly sudden. He had
been skipping meetings lately, and explaining his absences to Lord Voldemort
afterward, saying that I was keeping much closer tabs upon him. Why he decided
to go to this one, I don’t know, but… it seems to have been a
mistake.”

Harry was puzzled. “Why was he
suddenly skipping meetings?”

“I’m afraid that’s
really not anyone’s business but his own, but a certain
condition…”

“You mean because he was
pregnant?”

Dumbledore seemed honestly and
openly surprised that Harry knew such a thing. “Exactly.
I suppose his Pensieve showed you that as well?” Harry nodded.
“Well, that was exactly it. I felt he should have stopped going back to
him as soon as possible, taking a guess at the kind of danger he was in, but of
course he couldn’t stop all at once. He had to fade out of their society,
so that he would barely be noticed leaving. I also think that, because of this
condition Voldemort put him in, he is still alive and in very little physical
danger for the next seven and a half months. If he is, in fact, in Lord
Voldemort’s clutches, however…” His eyes seemed to get a
little further away. “At any rate, it is imperative that he be found. Even if he has left on his own.”

Harry finally sat down in the chair
in front of the desk; he was already coming to think of it as his chair.
“Why would Professor Snape have left on his own…?”

The fact that he called him ‘Professor Snape’ did not go
unnoticed by Dumbledore, who smiled slightly. “He has been
wanting to quit. Not teaching, necessarily, or at least he has not
brought such to my attention, but spying. For almost two years now, he has
wanted me to let him out; I have refused him. I am sorry to say that I am using
him as badly as he would be used by Voldemort, but we need him very badly. I
think it’s entirely possible that he may have worked himself up to
finally leave on his own, and disappear. If that’s the case, then we need
to find him before Voldemort does, because he cannot
possibly hope to remain undiscovered forever.”

“He would leave?” Harry
asked, astounded. “But he knows that you and Hogwarts can keep him safe!”

A rather sad smile found its way
onto the Headmaster’s face. “Safe from Voldemort,
perhaps. But what if there’s some thing he fears or hates more
than his former master?”

“You mean you, don’t
you?”

“I mean being used. How would
you feel in his situation, playing both sides, being played by both sides like
a pawn on a chess board, and having no say in your
fate whatsoever?” Harry looked away with a slight shudder. Maybe…
he would rather leave the safety of Hogwarts than face something like that.
“Ah, I see you understand. Now imagine living that life for years,
escaping it, only to have it return and take you over again. Not that I imagine
the fourteen years before Voldemort was resurrected were any easier just
because he wasn’t around; there was always the threat of a return, faint
though it may have been…”

“I understand…”

“You see why I think he may
have left of his own free will. He may not have been a Gryffindor, but he has
more than his share of courage.”

“But you don’t really
think that’s what happened, so you?”

Dumbledore shook his head.
“No. As you so adequately proved, he left everything, even his Pensive,
here. I think it’s unlikely that he did leave, or was even planning to,
but was rather probably going to do as I asked for as long as he had to, which
takes an entirely different kind of courage altogether. No; I believe he has
been taken by Lord Voldemort, possibly under the pretence of keeping him
‘safe’ from me until he can give Voldemort his heir.”

“And you have no idea where he
could be…?”

“No, none. He never even knew himself where it
was he went on the weekends, and I very much doubt he is there anyway. I have
no clue…” Harry for the first time noticed exactly how tired he
looked, how pale and drawn and… old. He thought it was his fault that
Snape was taken and was working himself to the bone trying to find him and
bring him back, even when it was actually possible that he didn’t want to
be brought back.

He just nodded. He didn’t know
what he could say. “I want to help,” he said finally. “If
there’s any way I can… if you find him and Voldemort does have him
or something… Just, I want to help.”

Dumbledore looked at him over the
top of his half-moon spectacles and smiled slightly. “Agreed.
If there is any way in which you might be of assistance, I won’t hesitate
to call upon you, and I think both Severus and I shall be glad of your
aid.”

“Thank you, Professor,”
he said, standing to leave. He had a class in approximately two minutes…
He shouldn’t have stayed this long.

“No, Harry, thank you,”
Dumbledore said quietly, and excused him with a wave of his hand.

He ran down the stairs and back to
the Gryffindor tower to get his things, and arrived in History of Magic only
about fifteen minutes later. Professor Binns actually
noticed the interruption. “You’re late, Barnaby.”

“I’m sorry, sir,”
he said, used to the strange names the ghost teacher seemed to think belonged
to his students. “I was talking with…” His hand inside his
pocket suddenly felt something he hadn’t realized was there, before, and
he pulled out a piece of paper, with the Headmaster’s sprawling writing
on it. He showed it to Binns (who, as a ghost,
couldn’t actually touch it to take it), and received a nod and went to
his seat.

He used the Muffliatus
curse on those around them (not that anybody was listening to anything anyway
– History of Magic was the perfect place for a nap) and spoke to Ron and
Hermione in not-too-hushed voices. He told them all about what Dumbledore said
about Snape – except for the fact that he was pregnant; he hadn’t
revealed anything to them he’d learned in the Pensieve – and
watched Ron’s brows furrow.

“That doesn’t really
sound like Dumbledore – to make him keep spying when he doesn’t
want to…”

“These are desperate times,
Ron,” Hermione said practically. “If the Order needs Snape’s
services that badly, then he’ll make sure we get to keep
him…”

Due to the curse around them, the
people who should normally have heard their conversation were kept unaware.
With a start, Harry realized that he was using one of the spells Snape had
invented during one of his last years… one of the spells he had found in
his old potions book, the one that said it belonged to the Half-Blood Prince.
It was strange, how all of a sudden everything he did or said or saw had
something to do with Snape…

“And he thinks he’s been
taken by… by You-Know-Who?”

Harry nodded. “That’s
what he thinks. He also thinks he isn’t in any real physical danger yet,
but if we don’t find him soon…”

“‘We’?” Ron asked. “You’re
planning on helping them look for Snape then, are you?”

Harry shrugged. “I offered to
help. Dumbledore said he’s call on my assistance if it was ever
needed… which I guess sounds like he was just humouring me, huh?”
He felt a little betrayed. He had made his offer in all seriousness, and until
he told Ron, he’d thought that Dumbledore’s answer was serious,
too. Now it was obvious that, even though he was of age in the Wizarding world, Dumbledore just considered him a kid and
was placating him.

“Yeah, it kind of does,”
Ron said, but Hermione interrupted. “Not necessarily. When have you ever
known Dumbledore to lie to you? I think he meant it when he accepted your offer
of help – it’s just that there might not be any way for you to
help, so you mustn’t be too disappointed if that happens.”

Harry nodded again, still convinced
that Dumbledore was never going to let him help at all, when he really did want
to… “Why would you want to find Snape anyway?” Ron asked.
“Personally, I think the whole school’s better off without
him.”

He shrugged. “I feel sorry for
him, okay? He’s a git, but, like Dumbledore said… you don’t
know what’s happened to make him that way…” He trailed off
and looked at his blank parchment, where he should have been taking notes.

“And you do?” Hermione
asked astutely. “How do you know?”

“I don’t know
everything…” he said evasively. “I just know some
stuff…”

“Well, what?” Ron asked.
“What could possibly make someone into Snape?”

He shook his head. “I
don’t want to say – it’s too private, I never should have
learned it in the first place. But, it’s pretty horrible.”

Ron seemed dissatisfied and about to
press the issue, but Hermione shook her head and he stayed quiet. That was fine
by Harry. He had no urge to tell them or anyone what he had seen in
Snape’s Pensieve,
now or ever.

* * * * *

It was late at night in the
dormitory, and Harry couldn’t sleep. Not because he kept thinking about
Sirius and his father and what they’d done to Snape, as had been his problem
for a week, often giving him nightmares when he finally did drop off – of
the same scene in his mind, but in it he tried to save Snape and got told by
Dumbledore that he should mind his own business, and then he was hanging by an
ankle in the air – but because he was thinking about the conversation he
had had with Dumbledore. He couldn’t help but wonder how many sides there
were fighting over Snape right now. Were there only two – Dumbledore and
Voldemort? Or was Snape yet another side, not wanting what either of them
offered? And what about himself? He felt so protective
over Snape, still, even when there was no one to defend him against. He
wondered what he wanted, if he was fighting over him too. Was he really on
Dumbledore’s side in this? Or Snape’s? Or even his
own? Did he want something different for Snape than all of them? He knew
he wasn’t on Voldemort’s side, but beyond that… it was fuzzy.
He wanted firmly to believe that he wanted what was best for Snape. What that
was… he had no idea. Probably to come back here to Hogwarts and continue
in his job as spy – except that if they busted in and took him out, he
couldn’t exactly spy anymore. But at least to come back
to Hogwarts. In fact, maybe it would be best if he did have to quit.
Then Dumbledore and Hogwarts could protect him from Voldemort, and he
wouldn’t have to be worried about it anymore…

He rolled over on his side and tried
to stop thinking about it. To stop thinking about him. He had no business thinking
of Snape. Snape hated him. Snape would always hate him. Even if he helped him
he would hate him – Snape had helped him plenty of times during his first
six years of school, saved his life more than once… and he had still
hated him until he saw the trauma of his past. There was no way Snape could
forgive all that, even if he did help Dumbledore rescue him from Voldemort. It
was hopeless. He had seen the error of his ways and he no longer wanted this
enmity between them,
but the damage had been done. Snape would always hate him.

That fact kind of made him a little
angry – Snape was a grown man, after all, and should be past petty
emotions like resentment… but he knew he was mostly just angry with
himself. He should have been the one
getting over his unwarranted hatred, and it shouldn’t have taken watching
Snape get raped by his godfather to do it.

He rolled over on his other side and
tried again to stop thinking about it. Think of Ginny. Yeah, Ginny… He
imagined the two of them getting back together, imagined the kiss he would give
her when Voldemort was gone and they could finally be together again…
Imagined maybe going further, getting her clothes off…

Then the body pressed beneath his
was suddenly thinner, harder, and the hair splayed over the pillow was long and
black, and the eyes gazing up at him in utter lust were also black.

He jerked awake and sat up quickly,
panting and sweating. He hadn’t even realized that he’d fallen
asleep. That was… disturbing. No more obsessing over Snape before he went
to bed and tried to dream about Ginny, he decided – because that was one
insanely messed-up dream. He shuddered slightly. He said he didn’t hate Snape, not that he
wanted to bugger him – his subconscious should listen more closely to
what he was thinking before it decided to translate it into dreams, thank you
very much.

He punched his pillow once and lay
back down, closing his eyes and letting Ginny take over again – and
hopefully Snape would keep his big nose out of it this time.

* * * * *

Dumbledore walked into his potion
master’s office, wondering why such a suspicious and guarded man left it
all but unprotected. Harry, apparently, hadn’t even had to try to get in…
and he himself ran into no more obstacles. Maybe there was something more the
Severus’ personality than even he had ever seen.

His office reflected fairly well his
dual passions – potions, and the dark arts. Really, with its preserved
mutated animals and shelves of strange bottled concoctions, it looked like a
mad scientist’s laboratory. Every time he visited here, his reluctance to
give Severus the job he obviously desired – Defence Against
the Dark Arts – was reaffirmed. He thought that the sadistic, yet scientific
streak in him might tempt him to demonstrate some of the darker aspects that they
were supposed to be defending against on students… or worse. He really
didn’t want to have to sack him, so a Potions professor he would remain.

He glanced into a cabinet, seeing it
full of little glass vials holding varicoloured liquids. Some of them he
recognized, but there were quite a few he didn’t. None of them had
labels, including at least two that he recognized as very deadly poisons.
Somehow, that didn’t surprise him. Severus would know by sight what they
all were, and if anyone else got in here and took something that killed them,
it served them right – in Snape’s opinion, of course.

He was only looking for some clue as
to where he’d gone, because he wasn’t as sure as he’d led Harry
to believe that he hadn’t just taken off for freedom in parts unknown.
Perhaps there really had been a Death Eater meeting, and then, on an impulse,
he had decided to get out, even knowing that Voldemort would track him down and
have him brutally murdered for abandoning his post… Severus Snape was something
of a mystery, even to Dumbledore, the only person who truly knew why he’d
switched sides and turned his back on Voldemort. His motives and actions were often
unpredictable, especially by those who thought they knew him, because he could
be far more emotional at times than he let on.

Something moved from behind another cabinet as
he approached. He smiled as he saw a thin black snake hiss at him, then
disappear into a hole in the wall, which he though likely connected to Severus’
bedroom.. He doubted it was actually Severus’
pet, but he must have known that it had taken up residence in his rooms, and
likely didn’t care. He could picture him, sitting at his desk and grading
essays (and marking liberally, of course), and stopping to stroke the thing’s
head absently as it sat coiled on his desk. Or maybe Snape had no idea it was there
and would dispose of it if he did – again, he was something of a mystery,
and making assumptions about him could be a mistake.

He opened the cabinet, seeing the
telltale silver shimmer of the Pensieve. He wouldn’t intrude as Harry had
done – he thought he had already learned most of what it could tell him
anyway, from Harry or Severus himself. His Pensieve was rather distinctive,
however – instead of being a simple stone bowl, it appeared to have a
base, almost a mirror image of it, if somewhat smaller. He hadn’t seen a
variation of the sort; Severus might have made it himself. He picked it up in
one hand – it wasn’t as heavy as it looked like it should be –
and glanced into it, seeing the swirling fog. He didn’t look long enough
for it to clear, instead inspecting the bowl itself. That’s when he realized
there was another silver shimmer coming from the bottom of the base – a double
Pensieve, it was, in fact. He smiled slightly. Brilliant,
Severus.

He turned it over. The other bowl
was somewhat smaller, much more plain. This time, he
did wait for the silvery thoughts to turn transparent, then
found himself inside them. He saw Severus taking the spell that made him Remus’ secret-keeper. He saw meetings of the Order. He
saw the house that Harry now owned, the headquarters
of the Order. He saw who they had inside the Ministry, who they had in other
countries…

He saw, in short, every sensitive
secret that Severus had ever been trusted with.

Pulling himself out, he pondered
what this meant. Firstly, it meant that Severus could quite likely not give any
information to the Death Eaters, even now that he had been captured (or not).
It also meant that they would become quite irate with him for that and quite
likely punish him all the harder for it. Perhaps even kill him, if Voldemort
was angry enough or didn’t mind having to find a new bearer for his heir.
He would know if he were dead, though – he was almost sure of it. Torture
was quite likely, however.

If he really was with the Death
Eaters… he still wasn’t certain.

He replaced the Pensieve, smiling a
little as the snake poked its head back into the room, and went back to his
office to ponder this.

* * * * *

“It happens that some of my
younger operatives at Hogwarts are more loyal than you…” Voldemort
nearly hissed, as he stood leaning on the wall next to Snape. “And they
even talk to their parents. And I have a bit of news that might interest you.”

He moved to look into the slightly
shorter man’s face, with its dull lifeless eyes. He knew he could still
hear him, even if he was dead to the world. It just happened that nearly
everything meant nothing to him any longer, ever since he had broken his mind.

“It seems that they’re
replacing you as Potions master. Apparently, Dumbledore thinks you’ve
deserted him… but of course, why wouldn’t he? Once
a traitor… never trusted. If you would abandon me, why wouldn’t
you abandon him with as little thought, hm?” He
smirked as he saw a small look of hurt and faint desperation in his captive’s
eyes, as he stood chained to the wall. That job meant a lot to Snape… it
was about the only thing that could still hurt him. That and Dumbledore. And
now that he thought he no longer had either of them…

“Poor Severus,”
Voldemort said facetiously. “Nobody’s coming for you – but of
course you knew that. They think you’ve just shown your true colours
again. In a way, you have. You coward. You can’t
even own up to your past – you’re no more Pureblood than I am. You
gave in to me so easily, Snape. Even Wormtail would
have lasted longer…”

And while it was so horribly untrue –
besides the fact that Wormtail would have been
cowering as soon as he entered the room, Snape had held out better than anyone
else he’d tried to get information from – it was doing its part to
keep him where he belonged, and where he would stay for the next seven months –
a mental Hell such as the living rarely experienced. After which, he would die,
and the child would be entrusted to a loyal Death Eater, if there was such a
thing. Perhaps the Black woman.

“Its
lucky, really, that you’ll never escape me… because you don’t
have a Hogwarts to go back to anymore.” He smirked when he saw a slight
flinch, and decided his work was done. With a taunting kiss to his prisoner’s
lips – he was still good for something, even in this state, and it was
all the better knowing that he actually didn’t enjoy it – he turned
and left the dark, cold dungeon.
- 5
- 6
- 7
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Old Habits Die Hard