Biding My Time: Our Way | By : watchyerback Category: Harry Potter > Threesomes/Moresomes Views: 9794 -:- 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. |
Disclaimer: Harry Potter
and company are the creations and property of JKR. I'm just playing in a totally non-profit way. This story is fiction. It is not advocating non-consensual sex in any kind of real life situation. The title is from Skunk Anansie's song “Secretly.” This is my first AFF story. Please review. =)
PROLOGUE:
Severus Snape was nervous.
He hid it well, but there was an unusual briskness in his pace and a
line in the middle of his forehead that almost cleaved his brow.
Only one person – if you could still call him a person at this
point – made Snape nervous.
The doors to a darkened room
creaked open as he approached. As soon as he was through them, he
sank to his knees. “Lord Voldemort.”
“Severus.” The
low voice was like ice even in the haughty potion master’s
veins. “I have heard some disturbing news. There are some who
say you betrayed me.”
Even though he could barely
see, Snape carefully kept his head down. There were times when
Voldemort did not want anyone to look upon him. “My lord,”
he protested, “I slew your enemy! I helped the Death Eaters
escape.”
“You were not supposed
to kill Dumbledore,” the shadow hissed, “that task was
for young Malfoy!”
“Forgive me, but there
was no time, and the other Death Eaters would not trust me until I
had taken an unbreakable vow to Malfoy’s mother to protect
him.” Snape hesitated. “The son of Lucius is young and I
am his godfather.”
He could almost see
Voldemort’s sneer. “Such softness in you now that was not
there before. Perhaps you spent too long with that old fool.”
To Snape’s relief, Voldemort motioned him to his feet. “But
he is a dead fool, so it no longer matters. Now, tell me, what of the
boy?”
There was no need to ask
which boy the Dark Lord referred to. There was only one that
mattered. “I don’t see how he can disrupt your plans. I
have never seen anything remarkable about him,” Snape stated
dismissively, “save for the fact that he has been uncommonly
... lucky.”
“And yet the others
claim that you protected him.”
“My lord, I was only
following your orders,” the potions master said as calmly as
possible. “The boy was supposed to be kept for you.”
“Alive, yes, so that I
may slay him.” The shadow seemed to quiver with suppressed
glee. “But not unharmed! In the confusion, he could have been
captured and brought to me. You had him at your mercy and yet you let
him go. Why was that?”
The flat, curious tone
alerted Snape to the danger he was in. He knew instantly that if he
could not allay Voldermort’s suspicions, he would not leave
this room alive. “If you want the boy hurt, my lord, I believe
there is a way. I have been observing him for years. But it may end
with his death, and it will not be directly at your hands. In that
sense, you may find my plan disappointing.”
“Continue.” The
shadow sounded amused. “At whose hands shall he suffer?”
“His own. Or his
friends’.”
There was a short silence,
and then the room shook with a sibilant crawling sound that made even
Snape want to cringe. It was Voldemort’s laughter, heard for
the first time in a dozen years. “No, it can’t be. It’s
too easy!” he gloated. “Is this truly possible?”
For the first time since he
had entered the room, the Severus Snape straightened and assumed his
normal confident bearing. “My lord, I have watched them for
years. I believe that what I have in mind will work.”
“Tell me your plan.”
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