Chapter Text
They were all currently residing in Malfoy Manor. The Death Eaters with their thick black robes and daunting masks. The Dark Lord was not pleased with their progression in capturing the Boy-Who-Lived and they were to pay for their incompetence.
Severa Snape was no stranger to the Dark Lord's blazing wrath and it was with this familiarity that she was able to maintain face after just being brutally mind-raped and assaulted with the cruciatus curse numerous times. While others trembled in their own urine and guffawing tears, she stood up silently, with only a pained grimace and a limp to her step to showcase her discomfort. The Dark Lord did not smile at her as she approached his throne. She respectfully bowed to him and began to praise him in a shaky whisper.
"Thank you Lord for your great mercy and generosity in allowing me to continue serving you despite my misgivings. It shall not be in vain," she murmured. She looked up at him as she said her last sentence, and though the stern expression on his face did not falter, she found within his eyes approval. And something else. Something she wasn't sure she wanted to name. It sent a shiver down her spine. She quickly returned her head to the floor and grew still, waiting for his words of dismissal. Yet they did not come.
"All of you get out of my sight," he spat. "Except for Severa." The 38-year-old witch plastered on a blank mask as she heard those behind her begin to depart from the room. Those who were strong enough apparated away, while those who were still gathering their bearings from their master's most recent punishment either struggled to walk away from the room, or crawled. No one dared lend out a helping hand to those who fared off worse, as it would only speak weakness and in turn death upon all those involved.
At the last grunt of pain leaving them, Lord Voldemort stood from the chair he occupied, his red eyes not once leaving Severa's slouched frame. "Look at me," he commanded. She did. His lips quirked at the corner of his mouth as if he was about to smirk, but it froze there, never quite forming one. He stalked towards her until his tall, bony body hovered over her own. She couldn't recall ever being this close to him. So close that she could feel his hot breaths against her face.
They stayed like that for what felt like hours, though logically Severa was certain it hadn't been for more than five minutes. However, five minutes staring deeply into someone's eyes with said person looking like they wanted to see what your inner organs looked like under a microscope was an experience that Severa was sure would make anyone feel as if too much time had passed. What disturbed her more was the realization that she couldn't feel him using legilimency against her. He was honestly just...staring at her. Not once did he blink. She couldn't decipher his expression either.
They still hadn't removed their eyes from one another when he finally spoke. "You know that I punish you Severa with your best interests at heart, yes?"
She nodded. "Yes, my Lord."
He continued on. "It is to make you work harder. To help you learn from your mistakes."
"Of course, my Lord. Thank you."
"Bellatrix Lestrange is with child."
Now this was not what she had been expecting. Everyone knew of Rodolphus Lestrange's unfaithful wife and her obsession with the Dark Lord. An obsession that turned into a spicy affair. No doubt if Voldemort was mentioning any child of Bellatrix's, it was his own, as she and Rodolphus's marriage had only been one of convenience, and seldom did they show any interest in one another. But what did that have anything to do with Severa?
"Is that so, my Lord? Then I suppose congratulations are in order."
"Are they?" he asked, and the sudden tone of his voice informed her that he was not impressed with her reaction. She was reminded of the look in his eyes earlier. She would have to tread carefully. "They are if only my Lord believes so."
He seemed to consider her words for a moment. "I told her to get rid of it. That night was a mistake and nothing more." He paused. "She did not take the news well. She likes to think we are closer than we are, and that the child shows our union. Tell me, Severa, do you think my judgment of the situation poor?"
Severa shook her head. "No, my Lord."
Voldemort nodded in approval. "Precisely. Bellatrix is a loyal witch and I won't lie and say there is nothing attractive about her. But you, Severa. You don't let silly emotions like love and relationships keep you in the way of your ambitions. Ties such as a child would only keep Bellatrix distracted from our goals. I tried to explain this to her, but she did not want to take heed of my wisdom. So..."
The Dark Lord made a dramatic gesture of a sigh and what Severa supposed was meant to be a regrettable expression. "I had to prevent her from making a horrible mistake. For the sake of the cause." Severa felt like she had been doused in cold water. She didn't particularly like Bellatrix, but she was pregnant and Merlin knows what the Dark Lord meant by "prevent". Her mind flickered to Bellatrix's vacant chair the last few sessions, and Narcissa's pale face. Things were starting to make more sense. Bellatrix was never willingly absent at the Death Eater meetings.
"It's a shame really," the Dark Lord continued. "Bellatrix, I believe, misunderstood me. I am not loathed to have offspring one day, just not at present. But that's not to say Bellatrix would be the one to carry them." He frowned as if he was disgusted at the mere implication. Then his expression softened. "Nor am I against finding someone worthy of leading beside me."
*** Warning: Non-con ***
And it was with these words that Voldemort brought a hand up to caress Severa's cheek gently. Goosebumps trailed up her arms. Still, she did not move an inch. "You've always intrigued me, Severa. Since the night I first laid eyes on you back in 1978, I knew you held great potential. You are intelligent, faithful, powerful, and in some ways..." His hand went from caressing the side of her face to trailing down her throat. "...You remind me of myself." His fingers then lingered there, running up and down her neck. Until they suddenly weren't. Severa willed herself not to shudder in revulsion and fear as she felt his fingers change their course to begin probing at the top of her robes.
Voldemort never made a habit of forcing himself upon his followers, probably because the majority of them were men and he himself was not attracted to males. In general, the Dark Lord did not like to be touched, nor did he show much interest in the pleasures of the flesh, with the exception being when he was younger and took advantage of the lustful looks sent his way in pursuit of knowledge and riches. As Bellatrix was the only witch interested in anything physical with him as of late, Voldemort was rarely seen with those of the opposite sex.
So then, why was he touching her? Ugly, dour, poor, half-blood Snape? He didn't care about such things. And even if he did, surely there was someone else who he thought was more worthy of his time? Yet his actions proved otherwise as he shoved away the top of her robes to expose the white blouse she wore underneath it and went to cup her left breast.
Severa clamped her tongue between her teeth. His fingers were piercingly cold. She could feel their lack of warmth starkly through the fabric of her blouse. His eyes had yet to break contact with her as he murmured huskily, "Do you want me to stop, Severa?" Though she was sure his voice was meant to have come out as seductive, with his new unnatural vocal cords, it came out as a whiny hiss.
Oh, how she hated him. They both knew that yes was not an option. Not if she didn't want to get backhanded across the room, or worse. "No," she answered.
'Don't think about what he's doing. Don't think about what he's doing,' she inwardly repeated to herself, which was easier said than done when all her instincts were telling her to scream and flee away from him. But she couldn't. She was trapped.
He hummed pleasantly at her, and his fingers went from simply cupping her breast to curling around the mound and massaging it. Her nipples, to her horror, became stiff under his touch. His expression became a mix between cocky and amused when, with a quick glimpse into her mind, he saw she was becoming aroused. "Do you like the way I am touching you?" he whispered into her ear.
"Yes," she whispered back automatically. She felt sick. She didn't want any of this, yet her body was responding otherwise. In all her 38 years, never once had anyone touched her like this. She once believed she would die a virgin. Now her virginity would be taken from her.
'Think of all the bad things you've allowed this man to do. Think about all of the bad things you've done. Letting him touch you to protect Harry, to help save the wizarding world, is the least you can do for all of your mistakes. For Lily.'
Voldemort had now begun to fondle both of her breasts through her clothes and was about to bring his lipless mouth against her throat when suddenly a fellow Death Eater came bursting into the room.
**End of Non-con**
"My Lord! There's been a mishap at the Ministry!" Severa nearly collapsed with relief at the intrusion. Voldemort quickly removed his hands from her person. The expression on his face was livid. At being intruded upon or learning that something had gone awry at the Ministry of Magic, Severa was not sure. Most likely both. He practically snarled as he confronted the cowering man. Severa did not comprehend much of their interaction as she tried to calm her beating heart. Eventually, the man left, and Voldemort turned to look at her. "We will continue this when I get back. Do not leave," he snapped. Then he departed.
As soon as he could no longer be seen in her field of vision, Severa fell to the floor. She breathed in heavily as tears began to stream down her face. She needed to be - to be - anywhere else - not here. Anywhere but here. She got up on her feet and ran into the bathroom adjacent to the room she was in. It had a row of stalls, a more recent addition made by Lucius after it was determined his home would be the main Death Eater hideout. She threw herself through the doors of the stall closest to her and slammed open the toilet lid. She began to violently hurl inside it. The feel of his hands roaming her breasts and the feel of his breath ghosting her cheeks were still fresh in her memory. She wanted to purge herself of it.
He wanted her to wait for him to get back. She wouldn't. She'd find a good enough excuse for her sudden departure. He'd believe her, too. Because despite the Dark Lord's pride in his legilimency, he had yet to break through her occlumency. She vomited and heaved until she could no more, before flushing the toilet and recollecting herself. She exited the stall. She was satisfied that she hadn't managed to blow her cover during the whole ordeal. That would have been -
"POTTER??" The name seemed to fly from her lips before she could stop it. Harry Potter was standing across from her in front of one of the bathroom's many mirrors. He had been gazing at his reflection curiously, rubbing his hands across his chest and stomach. At her sudden outburst, he spun around towards her. She expected the usual hatred-filled expression he reserved only for her to be sent her way, especially after their last parting (maybe even with a defiant yell of 'sectumsempra!' ) but there was no malice in his stare, just confusion. That's when the severity of the situation struck her. Harry Potter was at Malfoy Manor. Where over a hundred Death Eaters currently resided and where a certain Dark Lord would be, too, once he returned from his impromptu trip. Her eyes bulged from their sockets.
No! Why was he here?! He was supposed to be out hunting Horcruxes with that bushy-haired know-it-all and annoying Weasel. Not here in the bloody lion's den!
"Y-you- what -"
She stumbled forward and barely managed to grasp onto the wall beside her to keep from completely falling on her face. First the death of those students by those incestuous, conniving Carrows, then Voldemort's torture and touch, and now Potter and, and -
He was jeopardizing everything! How stupid could he be to come here of all places? And half-naked to boot?!
She ground her teeth and glared daggers at him. "What are you doing here, Potter? Are you wanting the Dark Lord to kill you?!"