Dark Lord Rising | By : Sparrowbirdie Category: HP Canon Characters paired with Original Characters > Slash - Male/Male Views: 6505 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 3 |
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, Pirates of the Caribbean, Midsomer Murders or Troy. I make no profit from writing this story. This is a work of fiction. |
Blood sacrifice. Lord Voldemort didn't think twice about using a muggle-born virgin for this sort of thing. He let the dagger sink into her heart and watched the life drain away from her eyes. The blood mingled with the magic and it began to smoke. Everyone held their breaths. This was some serious dark magic, and Voldemort had no inhibitions. They waited, breathlessly. Voldemort's thoughts went to the medieval wizards who had been the first to use this ritual. He could almost hear history tread the unholy ground next to where he was standing. The thick smoke began to sparkle, and soon it adopted a more solid form. The blue gateway shivered slightly before something moved closer from the other side. Voldemort held his breath. He felt like a child about to be given his Christmas present. He had tried to summon the devil before, but his prayers had not been heard. From the sparkling blue portal emerged a tall man with long brown flowing hair and golden eyes. He wore a white bandanna around his forehead, and perched on his head was a three-cornered hat with the deepest and most dense black Voldemort had ever seen. He didn't look too pleased. With him was the soul of the girl Voldemort had just sacrificed in order to get the Lord of all dark lords' attention. He was holding the girls hand, and she was staring defiantly at Voldemort. The tall man with the golden eyes let go off her hand, made a swirling gesture with his right hand. The restraints around the dead girl's hands loosened and fell off. Her ghostlike soul dissolved and floated over to the body. Once reunited, the hole in her chest began to heal. Soon, she gasped as her lungs were filled with air again. She got up and got to her feet. No one cared when she stumbled out of there.
Voldemort opened his mouth to speak. He had the words lined perfectly up in his head, and his demand was simple. He had not been prepared for the devil's human appearance, the human arrogance and commanding presence. Had he imagined for a moment that they'd be equals? Voldemort realised his mistake. Those piercing, golden eyes which seemed to nail him to the dirty tiles he stood on, made Voldemort nervous, yes, downright frightened like a child. For some reason, all of his childhood memories flooded his mind, good ones as well as bad ones. All of his worst moments seemed to be drawn from the deepest recesses of his mind, the making of the horcruxes and the rituals attached to them. A maelstrom of screaming faces was hurled at him before his mind's eyes, the countless victims who had suffered by his hand over the years. Their pain and despair became his pain, his despair. Voldemort felt queasy, his knees threatened to buckle beneath him.
"If there's one thing I cannot tolerate, then it's blood sacrifice of an innocent soul" Satan's voice thundered across the small congregation of Death Eaters. "Such an unnecessary waste of good blood and MY time. Whatever it is that you wish to achieve, Tom Riddle, it's not happening. Had you at least sacrificed one of your own tainted ones, then I might have taken the time to consider your proposal. Perhaps it's time you updated your precious black books, wizard" Satan said venomously. Voldemort cringed inside, feeling like a schoolboy who had forgotten to do his homework. Satan swept his gaze across the congregation of Death Eaters. If they had trembled in the presence of Voldemort and his anger before, they would never do so again, now that they were face to face with the devil himself. What had they expected? they told themselves. They saw their cherished leader crumble to a stuttering, speechless fool with tears in his eyes who clutched his ears with his hands. Satan met their wide-open dumbfounded stares with condemnation. Some fell to their knees, some suddenly realised what a lie they were living. One thing had they in common in this particular moment: The sensation of having been dressed naked and their sins exposed. And with these sins exposed, came a sudden burst of conscience. Satan, still annoyed over being dragged away from his present work by something so trivial as a summoning from a so-called dark lord, turned on his heel and walked back into the portal. He waved his hands the way one waves to be rid of a mosquito, and the gate collapsed.
Draco Malfoy had a note hanging on the bathroom mirror. It was a pink post-it note in the shape of a pair of lips. The writing spelled:
'Every day is a fresh opportunity'
'to not behave'
'like a Slytherin.''
Draco merely glanced at the note now. Having it there, seeing the pink colour and its shape was enough to remind him of Hermione. And by being reminded of Hermione, Draco was automatically reminded of what the note said. Draco Malfoy always did his toilette on the left side of the fairly small mirror. Hermione always did hers on the right side. That was the way things had become in the Dragon's Lair. Only this morning when she had entered the bathroom, Hermione found a post-it note in blue on her side of the mirror, and it spelled:
'Be my compass, Hermione Granger.'
She had stared at it for several seconds, finding it intriguing. She had prepared herself in the bathroom, at four in the morning, and found the note. Be my compass. She had thought about it as she had kissed him good-bye while he was half asleep and set out to the rendezvous point with Harry, Ronald and Neville. This was the day when they would break into Gringott's and retrieve the cup of Helga Hufflepuff. She felt like a soldier going to war, reminding herself once again that some time she would accompany Draco to Elsewhere and see for herself what he did there. He was altering so much about his life and his person just to accommodate her. She ought to do something for him in return. He had written: Be my compass, Hermione Granger. Not Hermione, or Hermione Malfoy, but Granger. It was a message specifically to the woman or girl she had been before they had married. When she had been a Gryffindor and he had been a Slytherin. He wanted her to stay the same, to never become like him. Or to be anyone else all together. And he needed for her to be his compass. So he wouldn't fall from grace and become the next dark lord. He counted on her for support. He wanted and needed her help. Be my compass, and save me from myself. Save me from the Slytherin in me. Hermione shut her eyes tight. She could almost feel his warm embrace and his hot breath on her ear as he had whispered those words last night, while he was inside her. She forced the memory away, focusing on the task at hand. For days now, they had watched the Ministry and their officials and lesser officials. The plan was set. Everything was ready.
Amycus Carrow stood in the headmaster's office. He clasped his hands together behind the small of his back and stared at Severus down his nose. It was his attempt at maintaining his conviction, but the truth was that keeping a straight face was impossible. Severus Snape looked daggers at him, waiting for the Death Eater to speak.
"An issue arose" Carrow began coldly. "The blood sacrifice was ... rebuked. The dark lord is now going to look among his own to find a worthy candidate."
"A ... volunteer" Severus answered.
"A worthy candidate" Carrow immediately bit back. "What ever" Snape retorted quietly, though each word was dripping with venom."We are to assemble at Crabbe mansion tonight" Carrow added. He didn't wait for a response, turned on his heel but came to an abrupt halt as he said: "for the selection."
Severus went to his chambers after dinner. He hardly had anything to eat. He needed a rest before going to Crabbe mansion. Inside his chamber, he locked the door, flicked his wand and candles in all directions lit up. He undid the tie on his way to the bathroom. He tossed off his headmaster's robe, peeled off his vest and trousers, and dived in between the sheets of his bed. Sleep overcame him at once. His last thoughts were about this fatigue. Why? Why this sense of tiredness which washed over him from the moment he woke till he went to bed in the evening? It wasn't like him to be this tired. The eudaimon did not come to him so often, any more. Severus got to spend his nights alone, and in them he turned to his memories of Draco Malfoy and his visits during the summer to Severus' place at Spinner's End. The memories shifted to dreams, and in those dreams, Malfoy was translucent, non-existent, and his deep moans and soft mewls had been replaced with the sight of an empty infant's cot in a corner and the noise of a baby crying. Snape looked around in the tiny appartment, searching for the origin of the noise, but couldn't find it. He walked out of his sitting room and everything blurred, becoming the sitting room of the Potter house. James Potter lying dead on the floor. The stairs! The stairs leading up to the nursery! In his dream, Snape rushed up the stairs, already knowing what he would find. Frightened, almost against his will, he took one step at the time. The crying of baby Potter was like needles in his heart. Turning the corner, Snape's heart was beating rapidly, and he braced himself for what he did not want to see. Not again! He walked inside. Lily Potter was lying on the floor, dead. Her eyes stared at him, her lips half open. Baby Potter was sitting in his cot, wailing and terrified. As Severus moved, Lily's eyes moved with him. Severus' heart leapt, thinking she was alive. But the pale skin and the resentful look which had frozen on her face, made him hesitate from touching her. Severus took another step. He held his breath, and his heart pounded loudly inside his chest. He moved, and her eyes followed his movement. She was dead, but watching him. The situation was horrifying, the atmosphere so eerie that Severus felt how his chest began to burn and tighten up. Then Lily's hand moved. Then her arm. Still, her face showed no other emotion but condemnation. Anger. Resentment. Blame. She moved her other arm, and hoisted her torso up. Resting her weight on her elbows, she moved her left leg. Still, pale and dead. Still accusation. Severus began to breathe fast, as he sensed he was in danger. Lily moved. She moved. Severus jerked awake, finding he was clutching the sleeping blanket. Every muscle ached, and he breathing so hard and fast he had to pull himself together and focus. The dream had been too vivid. In all those years, never once had such an alteration of that traumatic memory, taken place. It had been a memory tainted with evil. As if there was a demon who had breathed on him while he slept. Severus turned around and looked at his watch. Half past eight. The assembly before Voldemort was in thirty minutes. Severus got up, and went to the bathroom. He brought his wand. The memory of his dream made him jumpy, and he half expected to find the undead Lily waiting for him on the bathroom floor. He splashed cold water in his face, hoping it might wake him from this fear and collect his wits. He buried his face in a fresh towel and sighed.
"Got a lot on your mind, Severus?" someone said. Severus Snape jumped on the spot, threw away the towel and nearly shrieked like a girl. Looking up, he saw the eudaimon standing there. "Love works in mysterious ways, doesn't it?" Melchior smiled, showing all of his slender fangs.
"What do you want, my lord?" Severus asked, ignoring the remark.
"That's the spirit. You know your place. I like it. What I would like even more, is YOU from behind."
"My lord, I have to attend the dark lord in twenty minutes – ! " Severus objected. " – plenty of time , then. Come."
"Can you not for once spare me this humiliation?" Severus asked defiantly. "not only do I have to put up with the whims of a madman, but yours as well!"
"Call me jealous. If you're to face the uh, dark whatever who thinks he's so clever, then all the more reason to mark my territory." Melchior was already on his way out from the bathroom and into the bedroom. Severus followed reluctantly, understanding that this was something he would just have to undergo. The last thing he needed now was to make the eudaimon his enemy. He sauntered after the eudaimon, not feeling in the mood at all. It was still scandalous to have to undress in front of the demon. Severus shut his eyes tightly, steeled himself and undid this pants with his back to the eudaimon.
"You said" Severus began, "that it was time you protected me." He let his pants fall into a heap around his ankles. "To night would be a good time to do that. The dark lord intends to choose one of his Death Eaters and sacrifice him to the devil. He means to stop you from protecting Malfoy." Severus shuddered at the unexpected touch on his skin. Melchior stole one hand beneath his shirt. It made its way across his belly, the swastika and upwards, counting ribs before it came to rest over Severus' left nipple. The heat of his palm sent electric pulses into Severus' skin, making it tingle in his abdomen.
"You have all the protection you need now, Severus." Melchior said and pressed himself closer to the man's body, feeling his heat through his clothes. The only thing Severus felt, was the rock hard erection of the eudaimon and it worried him. A part from that, time was flying, and he needed to be present amongst Voldemort's men if he wasn't going to rise suspicion about himself.
"The swastika?! A good luck charm?!" Severus blurted out, sounding half sarcastic. "Somehow I don't think a good luck symbol will save me from the dark lord's wrath ...!"
"It's not the swastika. It's what's behind the swastika which feeds it its powers, making it a powerful shield ..." the eudaimon purred and parted Severus' cheeks.
"A spell, you mean. You've hexed me" he replied promptly, making it deliberately sound like an accusation. He clenched his teeth together and held his breath as he was penetrated. The eudaimon took his time, and made it bearable for Severus. He was being unusually forthcoming and gentle, the headmaster thought to himself.
"When Malfoy needed support and consolation here at Hogwarts, you gave it to him unconditionally. You took him under your wing as a father would to his son. And you've spent years imagining that Harry Potter was yours ...!" Melchior was obviously changing the subject and it annoyed Severeus. He glanced at the table watch. Ten minutes left. He ought to have been there by now. Snape was always early in the presence of the dark lord. Voldemort was happy with that, seeing how Snape showed initiative. The eudaimon had begun to pump away, filling the headmaster up with a bubble of lust. The image of Harry which had been planted in his head, wouldn't go away. Severus shut his eyes tight. There was no denying the truth. The eudaimon saw straight through him. Had he not, in his most loneliest moments, watched Harry from a distance and imagined, no, had harboured genuine fatherly feelings for the boy? Even though he was strongly coloured by James in every way he behaved, in his conviction and courage, there was also so much of Lily. There was this fabric from her draped over the boy with the green eyes, her gentle ways, the sensibility and empathy for others. The strong sense of justice, the brilliant way he devised his plans. But his nack for getting into trouble, now that was definitely James! Thinking of Harry brought back the memories of losing Lily once again. He tried checking his tears, choking the sobs before they left his throat. It only worked half way. The regret and sorrow over his past actions, actions whose consequences were disastrous and unrepairable. Quite suddenly, it was all over. Two minutes to eight. Severus was in a mess internally. He did up his pants with mechanical movements, working to gain his composure back. He couldn't face Voldemort when he was in a turmoil inside.
"You have everything a good father ought to have, Severus. Do not think so little of yourself." Melchior was leaning against the door-frame, his arms crossed over his chest. His long dark curls cascaded down his shoulders, and his feathered wings made a brushing noise as they caressed the wood he was leaning on. Melchior both sounded and looked like he was sympathising with Severus.
"Are you done with me?" Severus replied coldly. There was no way he could follow his impulse and walk over to the eudaimon and hit him for what he'd just put Severus through.
"For now." The eudaimon smiled wickedly and looked at him from head to toe, and Severus was instantly annoyed, understanding that Melchior was undressing him mentally.
The annoyance of being a pawn in the games of several players, stuck to him as Severus made it Voldemort's summoning just in time. It was actually three minutes past eight, and Voldemort noticed his arrival instantly. "How good of you all to come" the dark lord said, clasping his hands together. "Time and again, you all have proven your relentless loyalty to me" he continued, moving his gaze from Severus to the other bystanders. They were all seemingly nervous. Word about the dark lord's previously failed attempt to make a deal with Satan, had reached them like fire in dry grass, and they all knew why they were there. "This time, I must ask the ultimate sacrifice of one of you. And it is a sacrifice which will be remembered for all time." Lord Voldemort stared expectantly at each and everyone of them, staring at the opposite end from where Severus was standing. In all fairness, Severus thought to himself, the dark lord did play it out respectfully, giving them an opportunity to stand forward willingly. He could literally taste the tension in the room. Everyone who was challenged, averted their gazes and stared some place else. At their toes, in the roof, at the window. It was pathetic, Snape thought, knowing all too well he was about to do the same. When it became his turn, he met the dark lord's attentive gaze, but before he could look elsewhere, the dark lord said: "Your sacrifice is not required here, Severus. You already have a more important task to perform. Go and find the girl, my friend."
Severus bowed and left, sensing the icy chill of the house leave him as he walked away and out into the open air.
Satan had a lopsided, wicked smile on his face when he appeared out of the glittering blue portal. This time, no soul of the sacrificed accompanied him. He long,d ark brown hair fell into soft curls along his linen shirt, obscuring his black silk vest with gold embroidery. His vest was of the old, long cut which was so popular in the 1700th century. He wore knee-high brown leather boots which were stained with blood. Fresh blood. And once again, his golden eyed-gaze seized hold of Voldemort and made his knees go soft. He watched as the dark lord swallowed to regain his sudden and minute loss of composure. Suddenly, somehow and for no apparent reason, Voldemort felt ashamed of no longer having a soul inside of him. The very crisp and harsh truth that he was like a soulless ghoul obsessed with becoming alive again. He was as empty as a vase without flowers and water, fragile like the finest china..! Voldemort's knees would no longer carry him. He fell, or knelt, feeling to the very marrow of his bones how utterly empty he was. Without the soul. These were the thoughts which kept riding him like a hellish mare in the nights. The thoughts he refused to listen to, and the feelings he buried in the deepest recesses of his mind. But this - this demon, this very essence of evil sucked his thoughts out of hiding, laying them bare in front of his feet and skinning him alive, smearing them onto his raw flesh. He awoke to his own scream, lying in foetus position. His followers were looking from their leader and to Satan, to this handsome exterior he wore. Those nut-shaped, sexy eyes with golden orbs seemed to suck in each and every one of them. Then Satan opened his lips and spoke. They all expected something solemn and wise. But Satan said one word only, and that was: "Amateurs!" The word was followed by a sneer, before he turned on his heel and made to leave.
"Wait!" Voldemort heard himself shout. Satan actually turned to glare at him, obviously impatient. "My lord, I have done as you asked. Now, I beg you, hear me!" he drew a deep breath. "Technically, you're right. Don't waste my time. Get to the point." Satan continued to glare at Voldemort, and out of the corner of his eye he saw the bystanders pull away. The smell of blood still hung in the air.
"Your servant, Melchior! He has been unfaithful to you. Draco Malfoy is still alive!"
"Of course he is."
"My lord, your servant ... he should be punished. You mustn't suffer Malfoy to live."
"Why not? He treats me to dinner every time I come around. With desert. Which is a lot more than what can be said about you" Satan glared at him, bestowing upon Voldemort a short and sarcastic grin, before he once again turned on his heel. He didn't want to, now that he had seen the perplexed and dazed expression on the half-blood's distorted face. Keeping from laughing outright was at best difficult. But he had to exercise restraint. He was after all Satan.
"I assure you, I am worth a hundred times more than Malfoy. The services I could perform for you ... name your price, if you would only give me Malfoy!"
Why was he begging, the thoughts raged around in Voldemort's mind. Why?! He wasn't supposed to be begging the lord of hell for anything, the demon ought to be at his command, why couldn't Voldemort get himself to turn this around and seize control?! This weakness and unfairness which he remembered from his childhood, soared through him. He hadn't felt it in decades and it almost made him crumble.
"You're old news, Tom Marvolo Riddle. Old news. Now Melchior may have postponed Malfoy's death sentence, but it's still there. He has done nothing wrong. He has not disobeyed me in any way."
"I want Malfoy! Name your price, my lord, everyone has a price, even you!" Voldemort spat, his hands shivering with despair. Satan hesitated. Desperate people, particularly villains, were highly interesting and entertaining. He simply had to stick around and see where this was going.
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