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The Growth of Fear
Severus awoke the next morning with a plan of sorts forming in his mind. He would cast protection and cushioning charms on himself to protect the child; not even Dumbledore or Lord Voldemort would detect such low levels of magic, yet these simple charms would provide protection for his baby from the daily rough and tumble. Severus had no idea however how to protect his baby from any of the more serious threats he regularly faced. After all, it was easy enough to say that he would have to avoid being on the receiving end of the Cruciatus curse, sexual attentions or the probing gaze of Professor Dumbledore during the next nine months, but it would be much harder to actually accomplish those goals. It wouldn’t be easy, but surely it had to be possible. Several months passed in this way. Severus continued much as he had always done, creeping quietly around the edges of the scene, trying not to be noticed by those who would take any opportunity to ridicule and humiliate him. He had decided to use a cloaking charm to hide the visible effects of his pregnancy. The benefit of a cloaking charm over a concealment charm was that it would hold true even if the person looking at him knew or suspected the truth, whereas a concealment charm would flicker between the disguise and his true form in the eyes of anyone who knew the truth. Still, such a charm was not yet needed, Severus decided as he looked at his still thin form in the mirror. True, he had gained a little weight, but nothing noticeable. He stroked his hand slowly, affectionately over the soft, barely appreciable swelling of his stomach. No-one had noticed any of the as yet minute changes in Severus. He had perfected his evil professor act many years before and, as ever, it provided the perfect cover. Anyway, some days his morning sickness was so severe it put him into a genuinely grouchy mood. However, once out of sight of prying eyes, Severus was able to relax more fully than he had in years. Convincing himself that it was for the good of the baby, he allowed himself to rest, he stopped punishing his body for all its past betrayals, he even talked to the baby growing inside him when he was sure that nobody could overhear him. He felt a warm glow at the thought that he could love this child, could teach it all the things he so enjoyed, could guide it through life. He deliberately ignored the flip-side to this thought, the cold dark fear of death, loneliness and abandonment. Although his fears were never far from his mind, Severus willed himself to focus on the positive. Even the morning sickness didn’t really depress him, humbling and humiliating though it was to have to rush from his bed to the bathroom every day, it was a sign that his baby was still alive and he welcomed it as he knew he would welcome the swollen ankles and rounded belly that would come with his advancing condition. The only shadows in Severus Snape’s life at that moment were the continued summonings to Lord Voldemort’s side and the ensuing debriefs with Albus Dumbledore. He was happy to say that the former (and therefore also the latter) had decreased significantly since the start of the school year. Unhappily, however, it meant that Voldemort had moved past the planning stage and was now heavily into the preparations necessary for his renewed attack on both the wizard and muggle worlds. One thing that Voldemort seemed to have learned during his decade or more existing as mere spirit, out of thought, out of mind and out of body, was some measure of patience. The final attack was not anticipated in the near future but the plans being carried out now were, to Voldemort’s mind, necessary to ensure his ultimate success. Nobody was as yet privy to the plans for the future; Voldemort had also learned during his enforced sojourn in Albania that his followers were not to be trusted, that they were more likely to slither off to the Ministry to sell any information they had to secure their own position rather than remain loyal to him should he fall or show any sign of weakness again. Speak of the devil, Severus thought wryly as his Dark Mark flared. He fought the burning sensation on his arm as he gathered his black cloak and Death Eater mask. He left Dumbledore a message to tell him that he had been summoned to Lord Voldemort’s side and rubbed his stomach in a silent prayer to whatever deity cared to listen to him that himself and his child would return unharmed from tonight’s meeting. Severus fought the desire to flee to his chamber and never come out again as he walked across Hogwarts’ grounds to the edge of the apparition barriers. His fear was far from baseless; his task was to discover the secrets of Hogwarts’ wards and report to Voldemort, a task he would never complete yet his inaction risked arousing Voldemort’s wrath. Unable to delay the inevitable any longer, Severus touched his hand to the Dark Mark that tainted his skin and felt the familiar rush of apparition. He appeared on the edge of a forest. It was dark, far from habitation, an ideal place for the clandestine meetings of the Dark Lord Voldemort and his followers. This time it was a large gathering, almost 30 Death Eaters in total. One Death Eater stood out immediately, Lucius Malfoy, trying to catch Severus’ eye, his own grey eyes flashing angrily, demandingly, dominantly. Lucius Malfoy was not used to being refused and Severus had been quite irksome in his refusal of Lucius’ attentions of late. The circle had formed around Voldemort. He stared at them all one by one as if to fix their image in his mind for all eternity. “My Death Eaters, we meet here for the final time this year. A year that has seen my return, that has seen my old servants rush back to my side, that has seen the rebirth of the old ways. We have accomplished so much under cover of secrecy as the Minister himself denies my return. Some of you would have had me try to take over now, yet such an attempt would be doomed to failure. So many enemies still exist, have grown stronger yet more indolent during my enforced absence. Yes, my followers, there is still much to accomplish before we can take our rightful places in the world. Yet tonight, before the festive period begins, I would like us to reflect both on what has been accomplished and the mountains we still have to climb. So, I have invited you all here to inform me of your progress with the small tasks I have assigned each of you. MacNair, you may begin.” The man stared to stutter about lack of information, the need to be stealthy, any excuse that entered his head as to why he had failed to find the information Voldemort wanted about the Ministry. Voldemort cast the Cruciatus curse on him and watched him writhe in agony for a while, a small sadistic smile on his lips, before he moved on to his next target, er supporter. Again and again, the sickening scene was repeated as the Death Eaters had made little progress with their allotted tasks. All to often it seemed that the information they sought had been moved to new undisclosed locations or the people they were to find had suddenly disappeared, leaving no forwarding address. Severus smiled grimly to himself as he watched his fellows suffer his master’s wrath. He was the cause of much of this suffering, his information had led to the Light hiding certain people or moving key information. Suddenly, his thoughts were broken as he heard the cold voice say, “And Severus, what do you have to report?” “My Lord, I have as yet been unable to get Dumbledore to let slip anything significant regarding the wards used to protect the school. I am however fairly certain of the extent of the wards and they do cover the castle and the grounds.” “Information a child could have discovered,” snapped Voldemort angrily. He raised his wand, “Cru…” “My Lord,” Severus interrupted trying to conceal the panic, fear and hint of begging in his voice, “Not the Cruciatus.” The circle of Death Eaters fell deathly silent as Voldemort held his wand limply and stared at Snape. “Not the Cruciatus? And why not, Severus? You have failed me as have your fellows. Why should your punishment not be the same as theirs?” “Dumbledore, my Lord.” Seeing that he had the Dark Lord’s attention, he continued, trying to still his thumping heart, “Last time I could not,” he paused but then continued as though admitting a shameful failure, “I could not control the trembling, the after-effects of the punishment. It was noticeable in class. The Headmaster was suspicious. He has only just begun to forget the incident. Yes, I have failed you but using the Cruciatus will only ensure that I cannot complete my task.” Severus waited as he watched Voldemort absorb this information. Oh please, he thought, let him fall for it. The Cruciatus curse was dangerous, often fatal, to an unborn foetus. This had to work, for the sake of his child. “Very well Severus, I can see that there is a certain logic to your argument. However, you still need to be punished. On your knees.” Severus fell to his knees, hoping against hope that this gamble would not backfire spectacularly. He watched as Voldemort opened his robes to show his erect cock to Severus. Severus swallowed nervously as a myriad of nightmarish experiences from his childhood threatened to engulf him. “Pleasure me Severus.” Severus moved to comply but Voldemort grabbed his chin roughly and titled his face upwards. “I do hope you haven’t forgotten how to give pleasure.” The combined threat and taunt hit the man like a slap in the face. He saw how sordid his position was and he had to force himself not to retch all over the dark-robed figure that loomed over him. Slowly, he swallowed the cock, lapping at it, circling it, moving his head up and down, as he had been taught. Voldemort seemed content to let him work him at first, then he seemed to get caught up in the moment, grabbing Severus’ head to still him as he forced himself deeper and deeper down Severus’ throat, faster and faster, until the black haired wizard believed that he would choke. Suddenly, it was over, he could taste the salty bitterness of Voldemort’s ecstasy as he climaxed into his mouth. Knowing better than to spit out his master’s revolting seed, Severus swallowed, stubbornly blinking back the tears that threatened to consume him. Voldemort looked down at his most regal servant’s feeble efforts to compose himself and smiled cruelly. Ah yes, the Dark Lord did not need magic to punish, he knew all his servants’ greatest fears and how to exploit them. “Up,” he said to Snape and the man stood up shakily, refusing to meet his gaze. “I want results from you Severus, or I shall have to punish you more severely.” “My Lord,” mumbled the man before him as he retreated back into the anonymity of the circle of Death Eaters. The meeting finished soon after Severus’ punishment. Several other wizards reported their failures and were punished in a more traditional manner. Voldemort may not need the Cruciatus curse, but he enjoyed using it. He actually got a bigger thrill out of it than sex. The power, the pain, the fear, the anticipation. As the Death Eaters moved away from the circle, preparing to disapparate, Severus moved automatically towards the cover provided by the forest. As he was about to mutter the spell to return him to Hogwarts, he found himself spun around and pressed face first against a nearby tree by none other than Lucius Malfoy. “Quite a display you put on there, Severus,” Malfoy said, moving his own erection against the back of Severus’ thigh, leaving the younger man in no doubt as to the intentions of the blonde. “Lucius,” he gasped, panic spiking in his chest. He couldn’t bear to be degraded again that night and he knew that Lucius wanted more of him than Voldemort. Voldemort knew which acts disgusted Severus the most and punished accordingly, Lucius’ main concern was his own pleasure and he acted accordingly. “Why are you avoiding me Severus? Don’t deny it,” he snapped, spreading Severus’ legs apart with his knee, “I know you are. You have been for the last three months, one week and four days, in fact.” Lucius ran his finger along Severus’ jaw and Severus twisted his head round to see the blonde’s lascivious leer. “Lucius, I don’t have time for this,” Severus snapped, using the fear and nervous energy flowing through his body to inject added venom into his tone. Oh Merlin, he thought, please don’t let him attack. “Severus,” Malfoy mocked in a cruel parody of a lover’s hurt tone, “I am hurt that you cannot make time for me after all we’ve been to each other.” Lucius stroked Severus’ jaw and lowered his hand, running it down Severus’ body. Severus froze. “Perhaps if you are so busy, we should get this over with quickly.” Lucius ripped Severus robes as he tried to expose him to the cold night air. Severus’ fear for his child grew. He knew that Lucius was angry and frustrated and would dearly like to tear Severus apart at that very moment. He did not want to subject his unborn child to the trauma of this assault; it was wrong, especially seeing as it would be committed by the father of the child he carried. Fighting his rising panic, Severus managed to hiss, “Lucius, don’t be an idiot. Dumbledore is keeping a very close eye on me of late. If he finds me missing, our Lord will lose his spy in Dumbledore’s ranks. Should that happen, he would be most displeased with you as well as me.” To his surprise, Lucius released his tight grip on Severus’ thin hips and stepped away silently. Severus turned, his torn robes flaring. He gathered them to his body and disapparated. He apparated almost immediately close to Hogwarts. He moved quickly but stealthily towards the castle, longing for the sense of protection it offered him. He soon found himself back inside his chambers. There, he looked down at his torn robe, symbol of all that had happened and almost happened that night. He began to breathe heavily, unable to stop his body from trembling uncontrollably, choking back the wracking sobs as he tried to come to terms with what had happened and the even more alarming fact that he would have to risk himself and his child before Voldemort again. Whichever deity had heard his silent prayer had a sick sense of humour; true, both he and the child had returned home alive but the price exacted had been high. Voldemort, he wretched as he recalled the image of the man, no demon, climaxing in his mouth. He dragged his weary body towards the bathroom and rinsed his mouth out with water. He could still taste the bitter seed. He continued to rinse his mouth out until he lost awareness of how long he had been draped over the sink. He would have tried cauldron cleaner if he’d thought it would make his mouth feel any less dirty. As he slowly calmed down, he tried desperately to comfort himself with the thought that Voldemort had intimated that there would be no more meetings until the New Year: that would give him almost two weeks of peace and quiet. The thought that this would be the first Christmas in a long time that he would not feel alone cheered him somewhat. No-one else knew it but he would have someone he loved more than the world, more than life to share it with. Yes, he could quietly enjoy this Christmas, once he had reported to Dumbledore in the morning this particular nightmare would be over.
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