FIC: Fuck Toy
Title: Fuck Toy
Author: pica_scribit
Rating: NC-17 (non-con, underage sex, violence, character death)
Genre: slash/angst
Pairing: Dominant!Snape/Submissive!Regulus
Other Characters: Marauders, Lockhart, Death Eaters, Voldemort, Dumbledore
Summary: Severus Snape tells of the nature of his relationship with Regulus Black from its beginning up through Regulus's death. We learn exactly why he switched sides and why Dumbledore believes him.
Associated Fics: Excerpts From the Diary of Regulus Black, though nearly all my fics can be assumed to be part of the same universe.
Disclaimer: I own nothing. No money is being made. Don't sue me.
A/N: After the amazing reception my Regulus diaries received and the call for more Regs/Sev, I just had to write something more. I've said time and again that I can't write Snape, but somehow, this came out from his viewpoint. This is dedicated to the_reda who keeps trying to convince me Snape is a decent sort, deep down. And just so everyone knows, she's hiding behind a curtain watching everything in the scene where Lockhart gets kicked.
Feedback is always welcome
FUCK TOY
Regulus Black. Regs. It wasn't supposed to be like that. He was nothing to me. Less than. A means to some small amount of private revenge only. I could take whatever Potter and Black dished out, because I knew that that night I would make Black's little brother my fuck toy again. The resemblance was close enough to add an extra measure of satisfaction when I fucked him until he bled and cried out, begging me to stop -- when I made him gag and choke on my cock until tears and snot streamed down his face.
At least, that's how it was at first. He was fourteen the first time, and I was still outraged about Black sending me to the Shrieking Shack and certain death, and then getting away with only two week's detention. Took me nearly a month to corner Regs. I spooked him when I kissed him right after the "incident", and he took to avoiding me, always managing to be where others could see him. But I did it at last. Fucked him near senseless, too, and in the middle of the bloody staff room, if you can believe that. Damn, it felt good!
He cried of course. I enjoyed that too. But after, when I noticed that beautiful, perfect little cock standing up all for me, I nearly went off my head and told him I'd suck him off if he wanted. He didn't want. Looked at me like I was crazy or something. I asked him if he'd liked what I'd done and he said no. I told him he'd learn to.
"Have you done it before?" he asked me.
"Loads of times," I told him.
"Who?" he asked.
"Malfoy. Lockhart. Rosier." It was all a lie. Malfoy had just made me watch while he wanked and talked dirty about what it felt like fucking that whore Narcissa. Lockhart sucked me off once so I wouldn't tell the whole school about him and Professor Seagram. Nothing ever happened with Rosier. I didn't tell him about my father.
Why did things change? It sure as hell wasn't because of me. It was him. He cared. He fucking cared. I'll never understand it.
I spent the last month and a half of sixth year marking that perfect, white skin in places I knew no one else would ever see. I even tried using the Imperius on him, but it made him too compliant for my liking. Then I went home for the summer and forgot about him. Well, mostly. Some nights, after Father -- I'll just say it would have felt good to exorcise some of that feeling of powerlessness on someone else.
Then term started again. Seventh year. I traded the fucking bastard I had to deal with at home for the bastards I had to deal with at school. Jesus fucking Christ! It just never ended.
The first day back, I could feel his eyes following me everywhere I went. I thought it was fear at first -- thought he must be waiting and wondering when I was going to get him alone and unload a whole summer's worth of pent up frustration into his arse.
I didn't speak to him at all that day. Not on the train. Not at the feast. Not that evening in the common room. But that night, just as I was drifting off to sleep, I felt someone sit down on the edge of my bed. Fuck! I thought for a second it was my father. My eyes flew open and I was backed up against the headboard in a heartbeat.
When I saw it was Regs, I had him by the throat before he could blink. "What the fucking hell are you doing here?" I hissed, pressing him against the mattress. I let him breathe just enough to answer.
"I missed you, Sev," he gasped.
I was so shocked I let go of him. "What?" I demanded incredulously.
"I missed you," he repeated plaintively, massaging his throat. "I tried to write to you, but I didn't know what to say."
"Why?"
"I was lonely," he shrugged. "Can I -- can I sleep here tonight? With you?"
For a minute I just stared at him, then I shrugged. "I guess so."
Well, he did. I didn't sleep that night at all. I just lay there, staring into the dark, listening to his steady breathing, feeling the warmth of him beside me.
He started spending a lot of nights in my bed, sneaking out of his own dormitory after everyone else had gone to sleep. Not every night, but more often than not. I still used him, of course. Whenever Black and Potter pissed me off, but other times, too. But I started to enjoy eliciting different cries from him; sounds of pleasure and passion as well as pain.
One day I came up to my room to find fucking Girlyboy Lockhart had Regs cornered.
"Why won't you do for me like you do for Severus?" he was saying. "C'mon, Regs. It'll be fun. I'm much prettier than he is, and I promise I won't hurt you. He'll never even know."
But Regs had seen me standing by the door. His eyes were wide with terror at the look on my face. With a roar, I launched myself at Lockhart. Messed up his good looks pretty badly and kicked him hard enough to make him lose interest in the idea of fucking anyone for a month.
Just barely restrained myself from breaking Regs's jaw as well. "Did you let him touch you?" I shouted, twisting my hands in his hair and forcing him to look at me. "Did you let him put his fucking hands on you?"
"No, Sev!" he whimpered. "If course not! I'd never --"
"Good!" I gave him a shake. "You're mine. Don't you ever fucking forget that!"
That was the day he told me he loved me. Lockhart was still moaning on the floor while I proved my claim on Regulus Black's body with my hands and my teeth and my cock, riding him longer and harder than I ever had before.
"Say it," I demanded, my breath coming in harsh gasps. "Tell me who owns you. Your arse, your mouth, your cock, your hands. All of you. Tell me!"
"You do, Sev," he whimpered. "I belong to you. A -- all of me. Always."
"Don't you fucking forget it," I said, reaching around to pump his cock hard. "Don't you ever."
Mine, I thought as his cries spiraled upwards, cut equally between ecstasy and pain. Mine mine mine dammit mine. So fucking good ....
My shout of triumph as I came mingled with his breathy moan as his own release spilled hot over my hand.
I pulled out of him and collapsed onto the bed.
Then he turned to me. He rolled over and wrapped his arms around me and pressed his forehead against my shoulder.
"Yours, Sev," he whispered. "Yours always." He looked up then, directly into my eyes and utterly without fear. "I love you, Sev," he said.
"I love you too, Regs," I said after a moment. I don't know even today whether or not it was true. But I did know even then that he was the only one who had ever given a damn about me, and it meant a hell of a lot to me, though I would never admit it.
I think I joined the Death Eaters in the end half because I was hungry for more of the same kind of acceptance and half to impress the hell out of him. And he was impressed. God, the look in his eyes when he first saw my Mark made it worth every moment of sucking up to Lord Voldemort.
I hardly got to see him after I left Hogwarts, except during school holidays and on Hogsmeade weekends. It sucked like I couldn't believe. I missed him. He mattered to me. The words felt like weakness even in my mind.
And the Death Eaters, well, it wasn't as great as I expected. Everything was for the glory of the Dark Lord and the purity of blood. I managed to get pretty high up pretty fast, mostly because of my skill at brewing potions and because I could perform the Imperius curse like nobody's business, but even then I was nothing. Just an especially useful stepping stone on the Dark Lord's road to immortality and a perfect Pureblood world. The other Death Eaters didn't even like me.
But once you're in, you're in for life. Forget even mentioning the idea of leaving. Don't even think it. Regs was so excited about the prospect of joining up. I wanted to tell him -- to say something to discourage him -- but I couldn't think how.
So he joined. The light and wonder shone from his eyes and he barely flinched when the Dark Lord burned the Mark into his arm. Not like Pettigrew. He was inducted the same day, and shrieked like a girl.
I took Regs away from the rest after the initiation was over, back to the Hogshead. There's usually an all night party after, but I didn't like the way Bellatrix was looking at him. She liked to fuck all the new blood just to say she had. She never even tried with me, though, and I hated her for it. Maybe I wouldn't have gone for it, even if she had. I don't know.
We stayed the night at the inn. I could tell the excitement was still with him, and I didn't know what to tell him, so I told him I was proud of him. It's all he ever really wanted to hear anyway. I knew he would be miserable in the DE, so I thought the least I could do was give him one good night before the shine wore off.
And it did wear off. Fast. Faster than even I would have thought. I was terrified that the rest would see as clearly as I did how unhappy he was. If they saw -- if the Dark Lord knew -- Regs was as good as dead, and me with him if there was any question at all about where my loyalties lay. They knew about us. How could the Dark Lord not? And the constant sneers of the others were impossible to hide.
He showed up on my doorstep one day near the end, tears staining his cheeks, wanting to talk about Muggle killings, as if it were even possible to discuss such things! I panicked and screamed at him. Told him to piss off.
I knew then that it was only a matter of time. For the next month, I tried to distance myself from him. I barely saw him. Partly, the distance was to protect myself, and partly it was because I was afraid. I was afraid of being the first to discover his body. That would have been bad enough. I don't think I even realised how much worse it was going to be. The Dark Lord is a harsh man for the testing of loyalties.
I received the summons at the end of September. I dared not ignore it or even delay it. I knelt before Voldemort, my head bowed. Bellatrix was there at his right hand, as usual.
"We are concerned," the Dark Lord said. "I am worried that perhaps you have grown soft in my service. Potions are all very well and your Imperius is very impressive, but I don't think you've been doing enough field work. I have an assignment for you."
"Speak and I shall obey, my Master," I said, eyes still lowered.
"I expected no less of you, Severus. I need someone to deal with the matter of Regulus Black."
"Deal with, my Lord?" I asked humbly, as though the sinking sensation in my stomach had not already made his meaning perfectly clear.
"Do not play games with me, Severus," the Dark Lord said sharply.
"That filthy queer is a fucking traitor!" Bellatrix hissed. "You'll do as our Master tells you and you'll like it, or you'll be next."
"Go," commanded the Dark Lord. "Do not return to me until your mission is complete. But be warned. If you do not return to me in three days' time, I will know the reason why."
I rose and bowed, feeling as cold and alone as I had ever felt.
* * *
Eighteen year old Regulus Black blew gently on the still-wet ink before closing the diary and sliding it carefully into the pocket of his rucksack. Shouldering the bag, he headed for the door. He felt lightheaded and giddy from a combination of fear and tentative joy at the idea that he was actually doing it. He was leaving. He would disappear into the night, find help with his brother and his friends, and be free of Lord Voldemort and his Death Eaters forever.
The feeling lasted as long as it took him to cross the sitting room, turn down the corridor and place his hand on the front doorknob of 12 Grimmauld Place. It would not turn. He jiggled it experimentally, but without success. Trying to still the rising panic in his breast, he went to the back door, but he had no better luck there, nor at the servants' entrance. Heart racing, he tried the windows. Nothing. They would neither open nor break.
"Reducto!" he tried, already knowing it was no good. "Mother!" his voice sounded unnaturally high. "Mother, something's wrong with the house!"
His mother had already gone to bed, and there was no answer. He went up the stairs to her room and shook her, trying to wake her. She slept on. No amount of shouting or shaking elicited more than a snore from her. In desperation, he drew his wand again. "Ennervate!" But nothing happened.
A cloud of doom seemed to descend upon him. They're coming for me. Now. Today. He raced through the house, pounding at the doors and windows ineffectually, screaming himself hoarse. "Sev! Sev! Sev! Sirius! Arse, arse, arse, fucking arse!"
At last, hands bruised and bleeding from pounding against the charm, voice almost gone, he sank down against a wall. "I'm fucked," he said resignedly to no one. Even crying about it seemed pointless.
A bottle of well-aged firewhiskey high on a shelf caught his eye. It had been his father's, but it was still nearly three quarters full. Numbly, he summoned it to where he was sitting on the floor. He pulled out the cork with a satisfying, wet popping sound and took a swig. It burned and made his eyes water. He took another.
Setting down the bottle carefully near his elbow, he took out his diary again, opened it to the first page, and began to read. This is my life, he thought, and now it is done. I'm done. He spent the remainder of the night reading through the diary, and wandering aimlessly through his family home, swigging firewhiskey.
He was sitting at the kitchen table, the bottle down to its last inch of liquid, the book open to the previous week's entries, when he heard the front door open quietly. Regulus carefully closed the diary, caressing the worn leather cover lovingly with one hand.
"So it's to be you, Sev," he said without looking up. "They sent you to take care of me. Why am I not surprised?" His voice was dull with resignation.
"Traitor," said the voice behind him.
He laughed bitterly. "Yes, I am a traitor, but the only one I betrayed was myself. I sold my soul to the Dark Lord because I thought it would make my family proud -- make you proud. But we're not heroes, Sev. We'll get no love for the things we've done. Do you think Voldemort cares whether we live or die?"
Regulus rose shakily from his seat and turned to face his would-be assassin. Severus shot out a hand to grab his arm.
"Don't worry," he laughed again. "I'm not going anywhere. Can't." He swayed. Then he looked up blearily into Severus's eyes. "I never betrayed you, Sev." He reached out to touch the other man's face, but he jerked away. "Never you. Loved you." His face was sad. "Thought maybe you loved me. Are you going to kill me, Sev?"
Severus merely gave him an inscrutable look.
Regulus shrugged. "Will you grant me a last request at least? For the sake of -- everything?"
Slowly, Severus nodded. His eyes were unusually bright.
"Make it clean. And not with your wand. Not a curse. I want that," he pointed to the small, silver dagger Severus wore at his belt. The pommel was a skull set with green stones for eyes. "If I must die, I want it to be at your hands. I'd feel your touch on me one last time."
Severus lowered his eyes. "Regulus -- Regs --"
"Don't," Regulus interrupted him. "If it's not you, it'll be someone else. And if you don't, they'll do for you too. No, I'd rather it was you. Anyway, it doesn't matter."
"How can you say that, Regs?" Severus's voice was harsh, his throat tight.
Regulus smiled lopsidedly, his eyes unfocused. "I've already taken a slow-acting poison. Something of your own concoction, I think. I'll be dead within an hour anyway." He stumbled.
"Regs!" Severus gripped both his arms, despair blooming in his eyes. "Tell me what you took, Regs! I -- I'll brew an antidote!"
"And then what, Sev?" Regulus asked sadly. "All that happens then is that someone else comes and they kill us both. I want you to live, Sev. You have to make it at least look like you did for me. But I want you to think about whether this is the life you really want. And -- and I want you to have this."
With clumsy fingers, he lifted the diary off the table and fumbled it into Severus's grasp.
"This is your diary." The other man's voice was hollow.
"Well, I won't be needing it anymore," Regulus said, jocular voice wavering. "I'm so tired. Can we lie down, Sev?"
Not knowing what else to do, Severus gently eased him to the floor.
"Sev? Where are you?"
"I'm here, Regs. I'm not going anywhere."
"Good." He coughed weakly. Severus could hear his lungs labouring. "Sev, make sure Sirius knows. Knows I tried to leave. You don't have to tell him about --" he flapped his fingers towards the silver blade at Severus's belt.
"He'll know," Severus promised.
"Cold in here, Sev." The boy's lips were colourless. His eyes fluttered closed.
Severus held the slender boy in his arms, feeling each faltering heartbeat at though it were his own.
"Are you going to do it or not?" Bellatrix Lestrange's voice was like ice.
"My Lord's faithful watchdog," he greeted her bitterly.
"I'd hate to take back a bad report," she purred, reaching out to caress his cheek. He flinched away, clutching the dying boy tightly to him.
"You have no heart at all, woman," he told her. "You know what this man is to me. And he's your own blood."
"He's a traitor," she snapped. "Nothing more. And if you defend him, you're no better. My Lord will not tolerate those whose loyalties may be ... unclear."
"I will not have my loyalty questioned," Severus hissed, eyes blazing with cold fury. With a ringing sound the silver blade left its sheath, and in one motion it was socketed at the base of Regulus's throat.
Bellatrix laughed a high, girlish laugh. "I'll be sure to tell My Lord you said so." He could have sworn her laugh still hung in the air after she Disapparated.
"Regs," Severus moaned despairingly. He felt the last fluttering beats of the boy's as the blood ran hot over his hands. At last it stilled. "Safe journey, Regs," he whispered.
* * *
He scrawled a hasty note to Dumbledore and Apparated to Hogsmeade with it before he could even think. Better not to think. Safer. He barely took the time to wipe the blood from his hands before sending the note by short range owl up to the castle. Dumbledore's reply was swift and brief, though Severus felt he had aged ten years in the intervening minutes. All it said was, My office.
Within ten minutes he was at the door. He did not even bother knocking, but burst in still trying to catch his breath. Dumbledore looked slightly startled, but rose graciously from the chair behind his desk to greet his sudden guest.
"Severus --"
But Severus had no interest in observing the formalities. He jerked back his blood soaked sleeve, exposing the Dark Mark on his forearm. "Do you know what this is?" he demanded.
The corners of Dumbledore's mouth tightened, but he merely nodded.
"I want out. Now. I need -- I need help." The word nearly choked him with bitterness.
"Why the sudden change of heart?" Dumbledore asked mildly, returning to his seat and indicating that Severus should sit as well.
Severus hesitated a moment before sitting down. "Regulus Black is dead," he said abruptly. He looked the Headmaster of Hogwarts straight in the eyes, defiant, daring him to say something.
"I think I see," was all the old man said in reply.
"He's -- he was --" he amended, "-- the only person who mattered to me. The only person who ever loved me, I think maybe." He didn't want to be telling Dumbledore this, but he knew that Dumbledore was possibly the only man in the entire world who could help him, and that in order to do so, he would have to know everything. His voice cracked as he continued, "The Dark -- Voldemort destroyed him. Voldemort cares nothing for love."
Dumbledore nodded. "He will not tolerate such weakness."
Severus looked up sharply.
"To him, love is a human frailty," the old man said gently. "It makes us vulnerable. But what he does not see is that it can also make us strong. It took great strength, I think, for you to come here today."
"They sent me to -- he was dying when I got there. God help me, I put my blade through his throat." Severus covered his face with his hands for a moment. Then he continued, "he was just a boy who got into something over his head. But to Voldemort, he was a traitor. He'll not mourn me if I die nor avenge me if I am killed in his service, which I almost certainly will be, sooner or later."
"I don't doubt you are correct, lad," the Headmaster replied.
"Help me," Severus said again through gritted teeth. He laid a blood smeared leather-bound book on the desk between them. "This will corroborate my story. A talisman of my loyalty. I cannot give service to the man who killed Regulus. Tell me what I must do to prove myself, and I will do it."
Dumbledore sat back in his chair looking down his long nose at Severus through his half moon spectacles, his fingers resting lightly on the cover of the diary.
* * *
"My Lord," he said with a formal bow, "I have completed my mission, as I am sure the Lady Bellatrix will have informed you."
"I expected no less of you, Severus." Lord Voldemort nodded approvingly.
"I wish to present to you a further token of my loyalty, My Lord," he continued, still bowing low.
"You may do so." The tall, silver-haired man flicked his elegant fingers for him to speak.
"I bring good news, My Lord. I have infiltrated the castle of Hogwarts. Headmaster Dumbledore has agreed to hire me as the school's Potions master. From this position, I hope to be able to gain the confidence of Albus Dumbledore, and perhaps through him come into contact with his known friend Nicholas Flamel. My Lord, it is my hope to either procure or make for you the legendary Philosopher's Stone, by means of which you might at last attain your desired goal for eternal life." Severus straightened and took a step back, waiting, mind carefully blank.
A slow smile spread across Voldemort's face. "You have done well, Severus Snape. If you should succeed in this, your service will not go unrewarded."
Author: pica_scribit
Rating: NC-17 (non-con, underage sex, violence, character death)
Genre: slash/angst
Pairing: Dominant!Snape/Submissive!Regulus
Other Characters: Marauders, Lockhart, Death Eaters, Voldemort, Dumbledore
Summary: Severus Snape tells of the nature of his relationship with Regulus Black from its beginning up through Regulus's death. We learn exactly why he switched sides and why Dumbledore believes him.
Associated Fics: Excerpts From the Diary of Regulus Black, though nearly all my fics can be assumed to be part of the same universe.
Disclaimer: I own nothing. No money is being made. Don't sue me.
A/N: After the amazing reception my Regulus diaries received and the call for more Regs/Sev, I just had to write something more. I've said time and again that I can't write Snape, but somehow, this came out from his viewpoint. This is dedicated to the_reda who keeps trying to convince me Snape is a decent sort, deep down. And just so everyone knows, she's hiding behind a curtain watching everything in the scene where Lockhart gets kicked.
Feedback is always welcome
FUCK TOY
Regulus Black. Regs. It wasn't supposed to be like that. He was nothing to me. Less than. A means to some small amount of private revenge only. I could take whatever Potter and Black dished out, because I knew that that night I would make Black's little brother my fuck toy again. The resemblance was close enough to add an extra measure of satisfaction when I fucked him until he bled and cried out, begging me to stop -- when I made him gag and choke on my cock until tears and snot streamed down his face.
At least, that's how it was at first. He was fourteen the first time, and I was still outraged about Black sending me to the Shrieking Shack and certain death, and then getting away with only two week's detention. Took me nearly a month to corner Regs. I spooked him when I kissed him right after the "incident", and he took to avoiding me, always managing to be where others could see him. But I did it at last. Fucked him near senseless, too, and in the middle of the bloody staff room, if you can believe that. Damn, it felt good!
He cried of course. I enjoyed that too. But after, when I noticed that beautiful, perfect little cock standing up all for me, I nearly went off my head and told him I'd suck him off if he wanted. He didn't want. Looked at me like I was crazy or something. I asked him if he'd liked what I'd done and he said no. I told him he'd learn to.
"Have you done it before?" he asked me.
"Loads of times," I told him.
"Who?" he asked.
"Malfoy. Lockhart. Rosier." It was all a lie. Malfoy had just made me watch while he wanked and talked dirty about what it felt like fucking that whore Narcissa. Lockhart sucked me off once so I wouldn't tell the whole school about him and Professor Seagram. Nothing ever happened with Rosier. I didn't tell him about my father.
Why did things change? It sure as hell wasn't because of me. It was him. He cared. He fucking cared. I'll never understand it.
I spent the last month and a half of sixth year marking that perfect, white skin in places I knew no one else would ever see. I even tried using the Imperius on him, but it made him too compliant for my liking. Then I went home for the summer and forgot about him. Well, mostly. Some nights, after Father -- I'll just say it would have felt good to exorcise some of that feeling of powerlessness on someone else.
Then term started again. Seventh year. I traded the fucking bastard I had to deal with at home for the bastards I had to deal with at school. Jesus fucking Christ! It just never ended.
The first day back, I could feel his eyes following me everywhere I went. I thought it was fear at first -- thought he must be waiting and wondering when I was going to get him alone and unload a whole summer's worth of pent up frustration into his arse.
I didn't speak to him at all that day. Not on the train. Not at the feast. Not that evening in the common room. But that night, just as I was drifting off to sleep, I felt someone sit down on the edge of my bed. Fuck! I thought for a second it was my father. My eyes flew open and I was backed up against the headboard in a heartbeat.
When I saw it was Regs, I had him by the throat before he could blink. "What the fucking hell are you doing here?" I hissed, pressing him against the mattress. I let him breathe just enough to answer.
"I missed you, Sev," he gasped.
I was so shocked I let go of him. "What?" I demanded incredulously.
"I missed you," he repeated plaintively, massaging his throat. "I tried to write to you, but I didn't know what to say."
"Why?"
"I was lonely," he shrugged. "Can I -- can I sleep here tonight? With you?"
For a minute I just stared at him, then I shrugged. "I guess so."
Well, he did. I didn't sleep that night at all. I just lay there, staring into the dark, listening to his steady breathing, feeling the warmth of him beside me.
He started spending a lot of nights in my bed, sneaking out of his own dormitory after everyone else had gone to sleep. Not every night, but more often than not. I still used him, of course. Whenever Black and Potter pissed me off, but other times, too. But I started to enjoy eliciting different cries from him; sounds of pleasure and passion as well as pain.
One day I came up to my room to find fucking Girlyboy Lockhart had Regs cornered.
"Why won't you do for me like you do for Severus?" he was saying. "C'mon, Regs. It'll be fun. I'm much prettier than he is, and I promise I won't hurt you. He'll never even know."
But Regs had seen me standing by the door. His eyes were wide with terror at the look on my face. With a roar, I launched myself at Lockhart. Messed up his good looks pretty badly and kicked him hard enough to make him lose interest in the idea of fucking anyone for a month.
Just barely restrained myself from breaking Regs's jaw as well. "Did you let him touch you?" I shouted, twisting my hands in his hair and forcing him to look at me. "Did you let him put his fucking hands on you?"
"No, Sev!" he whimpered. "If course not! I'd never --"
"Good!" I gave him a shake. "You're mine. Don't you ever fucking forget that!"
That was the day he told me he loved me. Lockhart was still moaning on the floor while I proved my claim on Regulus Black's body with my hands and my teeth and my cock, riding him longer and harder than I ever had before.
"Say it," I demanded, my breath coming in harsh gasps. "Tell me who owns you. Your arse, your mouth, your cock, your hands. All of you. Tell me!"
"You do, Sev," he whimpered. "I belong to you. A -- all of me. Always."
"Don't you fucking forget it," I said, reaching around to pump his cock hard. "Don't you ever."
Mine, I thought as his cries spiraled upwards, cut equally between ecstasy and pain. Mine mine mine dammit mine. So fucking good ....
My shout of triumph as I came mingled with his breathy moan as his own release spilled hot over my hand.
I pulled out of him and collapsed onto the bed.
Then he turned to me. He rolled over and wrapped his arms around me and pressed his forehead against my shoulder.
"Yours, Sev," he whispered. "Yours always." He looked up then, directly into my eyes and utterly without fear. "I love you, Sev," he said.
"I love you too, Regs," I said after a moment. I don't know even today whether or not it was true. But I did know even then that he was the only one who had ever given a damn about me, and it meant a hell of a lot to me, though I would never admit it.
I think I joined the Death Eaters in the end half because I was hungry for more of the same kind of acceptance and half to impress the hell out of him. And he was impressed. God, the look in his eyes when he first saw my Mark made it worth every moment of sucking up to Lord Voldemort.
I hardly got to see him after I left Hogwarts, except during school holidays and on Hogsmeade weekends. It sucked like I couldn't believe. I missed him. He mattered to me. The words felt like weakness even in my mind.
And the Death Eaters, well, it wasn't as great as I expected. Everything was for the glory of the Dark Lord and the purity of blood. I managed to get pretty high up pretty fast, mostly because of my skill at brewing potions and because I could perform the Imperius curse like nobody's business, but even then I was nothing. Just an especially useful stepping stone on the Dark Lord's road to immortality and a perfect Pureblood world. The other Death Eaters didn't even like me.
But once you're in, you're in for life. Forget even mentioning the idea of leaving. Don't even think it. Regs was so excited about the prospect of joining up. I wanted to tell him -- to say something to discourage him -- but I couldn't think how.
So he joined. The light and wonder shone from his eyes and he barely flinched when the Dark Lord burned the Mark into his arm. Not like Pettigrew. He was inducted the same day, and shrieked like a girl.
I took Regs away from the rest after the initiation was over, back to the Hogshead. There's usually an all night party after, but I didn't like the way Bellatrix was looking at him. She liked to fuck all the new blood just to say she had. She never even tried with me, though, and I hated her for it. Maybe I wouldn't have gone for it, even if she had. I don't know.
We stayed the night at the inn. I could tell the excitement was still with him, and I didn't know what to tell him, so I told him I was proud of him. It's all he ever really wanted to hear anyway. I knew he would be miserable in the DE, so I thought the least I could do was give him one good night before the shine wore off.
And it did wear off. Fast. Faster than even I would have thought. I was terrified that the rest would see as clearly as I did how unhappy he was. If they saw -- if the Dark Lord knew -- Regs was as good as dead, and me with him if there was any question at all about where my loyalties lay. They knew about us. How could the Dark Lord not? And the constant sneers of the others were impossible to hide.
He showed up on my doorstep one day near the end, tears staining his cheeks, wanting to talk about Muggle killings, as if it were even possible to discuss such things! I panicked and screamed at him. Told him to piss off.
I knew then that it was only a matter of time. For the next month, I tried to distance myself from him. I barely saw him. Partly, the distance was to protect myself, and partly it was because I was afraid. I was afraid of being the first to discover his body. That would have been bad enough. I don't think I even realised how much worse it was going to be. The Dark Lord is a harsh man for the testing of loyalties.
I received the summons at the end of September. I dared not ignore it or even delay it. I knelt before Voldemort, my head bowed. Bellatrix was there at his right hand, as usual.
"We are concerned," the Dark Lord said. "I am worried that perhaps you have grown soft in my service. Potions are all very well and your Imperius is very impressive, but I don't think you've been doing enough field work. I have an assignment for you."
"Speak and I shall obey, my Master," I said, eyes still lowered.
"I expected no less of you, Severus. I need someone to deal with the matter of Regulus Black."
"Deal with, my Lord?" I asked humbly, as though the sinking sensation in my stomach had not already made his meaning perfectly clear.
"Do not play games with me, Severus," the Dark Lord said sharply.
"That filthy queer is a fucking traitor!" Bellatrix hissed. "You'll do as our Master tells you and you'll like it, or you'll be next."
"Go," commanded the Dark Lord. "Do not return to me until your mission is complete. But be warned. If you do not return to me in three days' time, I will know the reason why."
I rose and bowed, feeling as cold and alone as I had ever felt.
* * *
Eighteen year old Regulus Black blew gently on the still-wet ink before closing the diary and sliding it carefully into the pocket of his rucksack. Shouldering the bag, he headed for the door. He felt lightheaded and giddy from a combination of fear and tentative joy at the idea that he was actually doing it. He was leaving. He would disappear into the night, find help with his brother and his friends, and be free of Lord Voldemort and his Death Eaters forever.
The feeling lasted as long as it took him to cross the sitting room, turn down the corridor and place his hand on the front doorknob of 12 Grimmauld Place. It would not turn. He jiggled it experimentally, but without success. Trying to still the rising panic in his breast, he went to the back door, but he had no better luck there, nor at the servants' entrance. Heart racing, he tried the windows. Nothing. They would neither open nor break.
"Reducto!" he tried, already knowing it was no good. "Mother!" his voice sounded unnaturally high. "Mother, something's wrong with the house!"
His mother had already gone to bed, and there was no answer. He went up the stairs to her room and shook her, trying to wake her. She slept on. No amount of shouting or shaking elicited more than a snore from her. In desperation, he drew his wand again. "Ennervate!" But nothing happened.
A cloud of doom seemed to descend upon him. They're coming for me. Now. Today. He raced through the house, pounding at the doors and windows ineffectually, screaming himself hoarse. "Sev! Sev! Sev! Sirius! Arse, arse, arse, fucking arse!"
At last, hands bruised and bleeding from pounding against the charm, voice almost gone, he sank down against a wall. "I'm fucked," he said resignedly to no one. Even crying about it seemed pointless.
A bottle of well-aged firewhiskey high on a shelf caught his eye. It had been his father's, but it was still nearly three quarters full. Numbly, he summoned it to where he was sitting on the floor. He pulled out the cork with a satisfying, wet popping sound and took a swig. It burned and made his eyes water. He took another.
Setting down the bottle carefully near his elbow, he took out his diary again, opened it to the first page, and began to read. This is my life, he thought, and now it is done. I'm done. He spent the remainder of the night reading through the diary, and wandering aimlessly through his family home, swigging firewhiskey.
He was sitting at the kitchen table, the bottle down to its last inch of liquid, the book open to the previous week's entries, when he heard the front door open quietly. Regulus carefully closed the diary, caressing the worn leather cover lovingly with one hand.
"So it's to be you, Sev," he said without looking up. "They sent you to take care of me. Why am I not surprised?" His voice was dull with resignation.
"Traitor," said the voice behind him.
He laughed bitterly. "Yes, I am a traitor, but the only one I betrayed was myself. I sold my soul to the Dark Lord because I thought it would make my family proud -- make you proud. But we're not heroes, Sev. We'll get no love for the things we've done. Do you think Voldemort cares whether we live or die?"
Regulus rose shakily from his seat and turned to face his would-be assassin. Severus shot out a hand to grab his arm.
"Don't worry," he laughed again. "I'm not going anywhere. Can't." He swayed. Then he looked up blearily into Severus's eyes. "I never betrayed you, Sev." He reached out to touch the other man's face, but he jerked away. "Never you. Loved you." His face was sad. "Thought maybe you loved me. Are you going to kill me, Sev?"
Severus merely gave him an inscrutable look.
Regulus shrugged. "Will you grant me a last request at least? For the sake of -- everything?"
Slowly, Severus nodded. His eyes were unusually bright.
"Make it clean. And not with your wand. Not a curse. I want that," he pointed to the small, silver dagger Severus wore at his belt. The pommel was a skull set with green stones for eyes. "If I must die, I want it to be at your hands. I'd feel your touch on me one last time."
Severus lowered his eyes. "Regulus -- Regs --"
"Don't," Regulus interrupted him. "If it's not you, it'll be someone else. And if you don't, they'll do for you too. No, I'd rather it was you. Anyway, it doesn't matter."
"How can you say that, Regs?" Severus's voice was harsh, his throat tight.
Regulus smiled lopsidedly, his eyes unfocused. "I've already taken a slow-acting poison. Something of your own concoction, I think. I'll be dead within an hour anyway." He stumbled.
"Regs!" Severus gripped both his arms, despair blooming in his eyes. "Tell me what you took, Regs! I -- I'll brew an antidote!"
"And then what, Sev?" Regulus asked sadly. "All that happens then is that someone else comes and they kill us both. I want you to live, Sev. You have to make it at least look like you did for me. But I want you to think about whether this is the life you really want. And -- and I want you to have this."
With clumsy fingers, he lifted the diary off the table and fumbled it into Severus's grasp.
"This is your diary." The other man's voice was hollow.
"Well, I won't be needing it anymore," Regulus said, jocular voice wavering. "I'm so tired. Can we lie down, Sev?"
Not knowing what else to do, Severus gently eased him to the floor.
"Sev? Where are you?"
"I'm here, Regs. I'm not going anywhere."
"Good." He coughed weakly. Severus could hear his lungs labouring. "Sev, make sure Sirius knows. Knows I tried to leave. You don't have to tell him about --" he flapped his fingers towards the silver blade at Severus's belt.
"He'll know," Severus promised.
"Cold in here, Sev." The boy's lips were colourless. His eyes fluttered closed.
Severus held the slender boy in his arms, feeling each faltering heartbeat at though it were his own.
"Are you going to do it or not?" Bellatrix Lestrange's voice was like ice.
"My Lord's faithful watchdog," he greeted her bitterly.
"I'd hate to take back a bad report," she purred, reaching out to caress his cheek. He flinched away, clutching the dying boy tightly to him.
"You have no heart at all, woman," he told her. "You know what this man is to me. And he's your own blood."
"He's a traitor," she snapped. "Nothing more. And if you defend him, you're no better. My Lord will not tolerate those whose loyalties may be ... unclear."
"I will not have my loyalty questioned," Severus hissed, eyes blazing with cold fury. With a ringing sound the silver blade left its sheath, and in one motion it was socketed at the base of Regulus's throat.
Bellatrix laughed a high, girlish laugh. "I'll be sure to tell My Lord you said so." He could have sworn her laugh still hung in the air after she Disapparated.
"Regs," Severus moaned despairingly. He felt the last fluttering beats of the boy's as the blood ran hot over his hands. At last it stilled. "Safe journey, Regs," he whispered.
* * *
He scrawled a hasty note to Dumbledore and Apparated to Hogsmeade with it before he could even think. Better not to think. Safer. He barely took the time to wipe the blood from his hands before sending the note by short range owl up to the castle. Dumbledore's reply was swift and brief, though Severus felt he had aged ten years in the intervening minutes. All it said was, My office.
Within ten minutes he was at the door. He did not even bother knocking, but burst in still trying to catch his breath. Dumbledore looked slightly startled, but rose graciously from the chair behind his desk to greet his sudden guest.
"Severus --"
But Severus had no interest in observing the formalities. He jerked back his blood soaked sleeve, exposing the Dark Mark on his forearm. "Do you know what this is?" he demanded.
The corners of Dumbledore's mouth tightened, but he merely nodded.
"I want out. Now. I need -- I need help." The word nearly choked him with bitterness.
"Why the sudden change of heart?" Dumbledore asked mildly, returning to his seat and indicating that Severus should sit as well.
Severus hesitated a moment before sitting down. "Regulus Black is dead," he said abruptly. He looked the Headmaster of Hogwarts straight in the eyes, defiant, daring him to say something.
"I think I see," was all the old man said in reply.
"He's -- he was --" he amended, "-- the only person who mattered to me. The only person who ever loved me, I think maybe." He didn't want to be telling Dumbledore this, but he knew that Dumbledore was possibly the only man in the entire world who could help him, and that in order to do so, he would have to know everything. His voice cracked as he continued, "The Dark -- Voldemort destroyed him. Voldemort cares nothing for love."
Dumbledore nodded. "He will not tolerate such weakness."
Severus looked up sharply.
"To him, love is a human frailty," the old man said gently. "It makes us vulnerable. But what he does not see is that it can also make us strong. It took great strength, I think, for you to come here today."
"They sent me to -- he was dying when I got there. God help me, I put my blade through his throat." Severus covered his face with his hands for a moment. Then he continued, "he was just a boy who got into something over his head. But to Voldemort, he was a traitor. He'll not mourn me if I die nor avenge me if I am killed in his service, which I almost certainly will be, sooner or later."
"I don't doubt you are correct, lad," the Headmaster replied.
"Help me," Severus said again through gritted teeth. He laid a blood smeared leather-bound book on the desk between them. "This will corroborate my story. A talisman of my loyalty. I cannot give service to the man who killed Regulus. Tell me what I must do to prove myself, and I will do it."
Dumbledore sat back in his chair looking down his long nose at Severus through his half moon spectacles, his fingers resting lightly on the cover of the diary.
* * *
"My Lord," he said with a formal bow, "I have completed my mission, as I am sure the Lady Bellatrix will have informed you."
"I expected no less of you, Severus." Lord Voldemort nodded approvingly.
"I wish to present to you a further token of my loyalty, My Lord," he continued, still bowing low.
"You may do so." The tall, silver-haired man flicked his elegant fingers for him to speak.
"I bring good news, My Lord. I have infiltrated the castle of Hogwarts. Headmaster Dumbledore has agreed to hire me as the school's Potions master. From this position, I hope to be able to gain the confidence of Albus Dumbledore, and perhaps through him come into contact with his known friend Nicholas Flamel. My Lord, it is my hope to either procure or make for you the legendary Philosopher's Stone, by means of which you might at last attain your desired goal for eternal life." Severus straightened and took a step back, waiting, mind carefully blank.
A slow smile spread across Voldemort's face. "You have done well, Severus Snape. If you should succeed in this, your service will not go unrewarded."