A Light Untouched, part two

[lesyeuxverts]

Title: A Light Untouched
Author: lesyeuxverts
Pairings: Severus/Lucius, Lucius/Narcissa, Severus/Harry
Rating: NC-17
Length: 51,500 words, give or take a few
Warnings: AU, non-con (not in main pairings), dub-con, character death, torture, infidelity, bondage, rimming, dirty talk, first time, sex toys, semi-public sex, foodsmut, minor hints at D/s, underage where the age of consent is 18
Summary: "Redemption came in the space between breaths, in the jarring impact of coincidence, in the patient toil of years – for Severus Snape, it came when he met Harry Potter, the culmination of his life's work brought to glory in an instant."
AN: Written for klynie1 in the 2007 reversathon. She requested: "Snape/Harry AU - A chance meeting in a taxicab leads to love. Rating is writer's choice. Please, no Harry or Snape death."
Many, many thanks and grateful smooches to schemingreader, virginie_m, gingertart50, brightfeather, and snarry_fan7! I owe a debt of gratitude to each and every one of you, and also to the marvelous people who bounced ideas for me and gave me encouragement to write this.



Lord Voldemort was dead. Severus curled his arm around his knees, pulling them up to his chest. The cold of the prison seeped through his robes and through his skin, the need of the Dementors – an insatiable hunger, a creeping gnawing lust for warmth and happiness – seeped through to his bones. His Master, his mainstay and defender and leader and love, was dead. His Master had betrayed him and tarnished him and died, and there were no happy thoughts left to be taken from him.

The cell door rattled and swung open, rusty iron clanking. Severus closed his eyes, drawing his cloak up to cover his face, and took deep gasping breaths through his nose. The filtered air was warm and stale, with a faint charred tang – the smell of burning hair, a hint of its origin. When the guard kicked him, a heavy boot thudding into his ribs, Severus's fingers clenched into fists. His fingernails dug into his palms, sharp crescents of pain that grounded him.

He was dragged down the corridor, stumbling over his own feet and the sweeping, rustling robes of the Dementors. They clustered around him, grasping and greedy, reaching for him. With half-hearted silver sparks, the guard shooed them away and ushered Severus through the door, helping his progress with a solid kick.

Severus fell to his knees, skidding on the floor. Blinking, trembling, his hands clenched into fists, he pressed his forehead to the floor, giving his warmth up to the cold stone.

Hands grasped his shoulders and pulled him up from the floor. With a gentle finger, Dumbledore tilted Severus's face up. "Never abase yourself before me."

Severus's Master was dead – he had no Master. He let Albus Dumbledore guide him, he submitted to the searing, blazing light. Wrapped in his dark cloak, his fading shield, Severus bowed his head.

"How do you measure the weight of a life?"

He blinked away the gray Dementor dreams, the shrouds that clung to his thoughts like rainbow-black oil. "I don't know."

"What about a soul, then? How can you measure a soul?"

Squeezing his eyes shut and seeing the last flare of his Master's soul, the last bright kiss of darkness on his Mark, the agony-bright nimbus of betrayal, Severus said, "I do not deal in riddles. If you have no further use for ..."

"Oh, but I do have a use for you," Dumbledore said, covering Severus's hands with his own.

Pulse fluttering, the rush of blood from heart to fingertips left Severus dizzy. Light battered against his shield of darkness, and warm wrinkled hands traced the lines of his palm, the veins in his wrist, the Mark on his arm.

"I have an offer to make you now, one that I could not make before."

Severus pulled his hands back, folding them in his lap. Pale and gaunt against his dark cloak, they were sign and symbol of his sins, his failure. Light swallowed up by darkness, Severus swallowed up by darkness, this man had rejected him before. "I have –"

"I have arranged for your parole, and you shall have it, with your freedom too, if you will only swear an oath with me. I have need of you, Severus."

Light flickered in the gloom, sputtering from the torches and banishing the shadows that were gathering. The one window gave a glimpse of the setting sun, the fire spreading across the still water. Calm and waiting, patient and dreadful with a nimbus of flaring power, Dumbledore sat and watched him. Severus blinked, his eyes unused to the brightness after months in the close-knit gloom of his cell. "What would you have of me, then?"

Dumbledore reached over and grasped Severus's shoulders, his hands firm and steady. "I need you to destroy the remains of Voldemort's soul."

His Master – past devotion, past betrayal, past horror, Severus shuddered and shook his head. "No."

"You have killed before, Severus – no, I know that you have. You've felt the last moments of a dying soul, that last grasping moment before they are rent from flesh and blood and freed to ascend to peace beyond pain. How is it then, for a soul to be trapped in an insufferable limbo, cursed with a half-existence and a heavy burden of agony? I know how your Master betrayed you, how he used you and abused you, but surely you will not condemn him to that fate. Free him, Severus, and redeem yourself."

His Master, aglow with power and dark with folly, haloed with the green of the Killing Curse – his Master, wand pointed at Severus with a curse on his lips – his Master, with a proud smile for Severus who stood ringed with lifeless, faceless bodies – his Master had betrayed him.

His Master was dead. Lord Voldemort's soul remained to be destroyed.

Severus swallowed and nodded, and Dumbledore reached for him, taking his hand. "Will you swear a Vow with me then?"

When Severus nodded, his throat closed and tight, a phoenix appeared midair, bright enough to sear his vision. With a flutter of flame-bright wings, it swooped from corner to corner, chasing the shadows from the ceiling and driving the Dementors away from the periphery where they lurked.

"This is Fawkes," Dumbledore said. "He'll serve as our witness and binder – I trust no one else with the task."

The phoenix landed on Dumbledore's shoulder with a croon and a bobble, dipping its head to stare at Severus. At its gaze, darkness was pierced and shed, falling away from Severus like heavy water, like cold shackles.

Dumbledore laid his hand flat against Severus's, their wrists touching. A flurry of heartbeats, a whisper of wrinkles against Severus's smooth skin, and the contact was sealed by the phoenix's song, a red jet of light wrapping itself around their hands.

"Do you, Severus, swear to do everything in your power to find the Horcruxes made by Voldemort and deliver them to me?"

"I so swear."

Another jet of fire burst from the phoenix's mouth, flowing over them with its song and wrapping around their wrists. Bright and burning, it braided itself with the first strand, the two strands twisting around together into eternity.

"Do you, Severus, swear to do everything in your power to destroy the remnants of Voldemort's soul?"

"I so swear."

Another jet of fire, brighter than the first, bound Severus to Dumbledore. The phoenix song was louder, almost unbearable, swelling around them and sinking into them. It permeated Severus from fingernails to bones, resonating through his marrow and cleansing him.

"Do you, Severus, swear to pursue this as your highest priority, forsaking all other quests and doing nothing to endanger your purpose?"

"I so swear."

The fourth jet of light burned Severus, braiding itself around the other three and sinking into his skin. He closed his eyes, seeing crimson through the dark – he was left blinded and trembling, washed away by the light.

The Vow sank into him, changing him with its weight, with its light, and Severus staggered when Dumbledore released his hand. Through tight lungs, he took a deep breath, blinking the blindness from his eyes, and pulled his cloak tight around him, needing the comfort. At length, Severus looked up to see Dumbledore waiting, and he stood, ready to leave the gray prison.

The Vow bound him, a warm weight around his shoulders, a lover's clasp around his neck. It murmured to him, filling his empty nights with song and strength, the memory of Dumbledore's touch covering and blocking the memories of Voldemort.

Darkness called to darkness, and Severus set aside the quiet shimmering comfort of the Vow. The Mark on his arm was dark enough to feel the pull of Voldemort's shattered soul, his Master calling to him still. With the light of the Vow dimmed in the corner of his mind, shielded and safe, Severus learned to feel the pull of darkness, the pull of the Horcruxes. It was a faint pressure on his forearm, lighter than the kiss of the breeze, a sweet seductive pull.

Severus held his shields tight and followed it, roamed from Hogwarts to Diagon Alley and back, trying to trace the dark fragments. It was a faint and faltering pull, the Mark leading him to his fellow Death Eaters or to tarnished, discarded Dark artifacts. He haunted Knockturn Alley, he sought out every trace and whisper of darkness, and still his search was fruitless.

Winter came and passed, the ground thawing under the relentless watery sunlight as a sleeper, waking from a dream. Severus followed the pull of the dark magic on his Mark, followed his faltering compass and Albus's unwavering letters. The first blooms fell from the trees in an early summer storm, and he was called away from his search.

The vellum crinkled under his fingers as he traced the fine letters. An invitation to Malfoy Manor for a toddler's birthday party – nothing could be more tedious or unwanted. Deceiving Lucius and all of the other Death Eaters, coddling an irksome brat with presents and praise, it only took him from his search, from his Vow.

Severus scowled at the invitation and, feeling the faintest nudge from his Mark, a hint of darkness enough to tantalize and burn his nerves, he scrawled an affirmative reply onto the back of the parchment. He tied the scroll to the foreleg of the waiting owl and wrapped his cloak around himself.

Malfoy Manor was gay and welcoming, the lawn overflowing with chatting women in low-cut silk dresses and men in formal robes, the grounds awash with blossoms in china vases. Severus nodded to his acquaintances with his lips set in his most foreboding scowl, and made his way up the steps to the front door. Draco, the very spit and image of Lucius from his smooth hair to his pout, was the first to accost him. With sticky hands, Draco patted down Severus's pockets and demanded a present.

"Draco, no. What have I told you?"

Narcissa scooped the boy up, resting him on her hip and cleaning his hands and face with a gentle spell before tickling him under the chin and sending him off with an admonishment to behave. She turned to Severus and stared at him, something unreadable in her pale eyes, and then she nodded at last, gesturing him toward the study before she turned away.

Severus sighed and cleaned the sticky mess from his trousers. He set his gift beneath a vase of flawless lilies on the entrance table. Bright and gaudy, wrapping paper sparkling with spells and humming with jaunty songs, the gifts took up most of the space on the table, with Narcissa's careful flower arrangements shoved to the back.

Lucius was in the study, a quiet oasis after all of the noise and color of the party. Severus let the door shut behind him without a noise and strode up to the window where Lucius watched the party.

"I knew that you would come."

"I couldn't stay away – even knowing that I'd be subjected to your wife's fiercest glares," Severus said. He reached out to Lucius, but let his hands drop before touching him. There was silence between them, full with the sounds of breath and heartbeat, full with the heat of their bodies.

"It was enough to keep you away this past half-year and more," Lucius said. "Unless there was another reason for your absence?"

Severus reached for him then, his fingers brushing Lucius's sleeve. The silk of the robe was cool under his fingers. "Dumbledore has been watching me. He doesn't trust me still, in spite of the pretty story about repentance that I fed to him. I didn't dare come to you before now, love."

Lucius whirled away from the window, and Severus followed him to the door. Arms around shoulders, hips thrusting together, heartbeats thudding a thready, unsteady rhythm together, Lucius caught Severus and pressed him against the door for a long kiss. "I must greet my other guests now, Severus. We'll talk more of this afterwards."

Severus submitted to the kiss, opening his mouth for Lucius, but all the while he kept his mind apart and distant, with the bright comfort of the Vow shielded. Like a faithful shadow, he followed Lucius out onto the lawn, out to the mindless small-talk of the gauzy, gaudy butterflies there. Poisonous to the unwary predator, fluttering with their own busy, dizzy lives and colors, all of the guests were useless to Severus.

Narcissa watched him, Draco squirming in her arms, with her mouth set in a hard, unyielding line. There was nothing of useless gauze or butterfly flutter about her, nothing but the hard ache of betrayal and the harder steel of purpose. She'd never spoken about her husband's betrayal, never understood it – Narcissa was, steel and darkness aside, a woman of silk and gauze, an ice lady without fire to burn or passion to sizzle, without any match for Lucius's passion. She took her place at her husband's side, linking her arm with his and smiling at their guests.

Draco took the opportunity to break free from her grasp, and he ran to accost Severus again. "Present," he demanded with a lisp, tugging on Severus's trouser leg. "Birthday present."

Severus shook him away and retreated to the house, giving Lucius a meaningful look and ignoring Narcissa's glare. After the sun and the chatter, the cool marble staircase was a relief to his nerves and his headache. Letting a house elf fetch him tea, Severus escaped the perfumed bower of the entrance hall with its gaudy flowers and trinkets, heading up the stairs and to the library.

He felt it then, the prickle of darkness against his Mark that was strong enough to overwhelm the background buzz of darkness that pervaded Lucius's Manor, strong enough to overwhelm the spikes of darkness that he'd felt from the Marks of the other Death Eaters at the party. Severus clamped his fingers around his arm, shielding the Vow and shielding the light that hovered just out of his reach.

It was here – part of his Master's soul was here, part of the lingering darkness. The wreck he had made of his soul, a fragment of it was here.

There was nothing here – no soul, no disloyalty, no sin. Severus had sinned, had tasted the black ashes of betrayal and the bloody liquor of power, all at his Master's hands. It was nothing to him now, nothing but the comfort of the Vow and the purging of his soul.

It was a kindness to end Voldemort's tortured half-existence, a kindness to undo the twisted mockery he had made of his soul. Severus took a deep breath, shutting the images out of his mind – the letters with Albus's careful penmanship and clear logic, the tang of the lemon sherbet on his tongue, the over-sweetened tea and crumbling biscuits that they'd shared in that stark antechamber in Azkaban prison. He hid the light and drew the darkness around himself.

The library was rich with the smell of leather and parchment, sun-warmed ink and sun-warmed dust, with none of the excessive perfumed frippery of the downstairs hall. The sunlight, the warm comfort of leather and parchment, the sweet hum of the forbidden books, none of it was enough to overwhelm the taint spreading from a fragmented soul. Severus took a deep breath and stalked down the aisles. He put a hand out to trail it along the shelves, careful not to touch the books.

Darkness vibrated along his spine, the residual magic of Lucius's dark books, the hints and shudders of old, half-forgotten curses. Through it all, the darkness of his Master's soul was a twisted, ringing note, a deep disturbance in the quiet room.

Severus reached the end of the aisle and turned, his Mark pulling him to the left. He rubbed his forearm, biting his lip. He had waited for this moment, had searched and struggled and in the end, he had overcome the last of his qualms, setting his will to his task and making himself ready.

The library door opened with a rush and Severus stopped, turning to face Lucius as though he had not been startled. He took a deep breath, slowing his heartbeat and steadying his shaking fingers.

He smiled, licking his lower lip to soothe it, where he had bitten too hard. "Couldn't wait, could you, Lucius? I'm so glad."

Severus unfastened his cloak, dropping it onto the nearest overstuffed armchair. Lucius watched him, gray eyes gleaming, as Severus stalked over to him and claimed his mouth for a kiss. It burned, it seared every nerve and tickled at the hidden Vow, the hidden light searing his mind.

"I've missed you, wanted you, needed you for so long." Severus bit Lucius's earlobe, breathing in his ear and pressing hard against him.

He was embraced, Lucius's fingers rough on his shoulders, claiming him. He was marked and possessed, he was bread and water to a starving man. "Severus," Lucius said, and the ache in his voice and embrace was immeasurable.

"Please," Severus said, reaching to bridge the distance between them. His pulse thrummed in his throat, fast and fluttering, and his chest hurt. He was so close to it, so close to the darkness that had been his Master's soul, so close – Severus closed his eyes and submitted himself to Lucius.

His Dark Mark vibrated with the proximity of the Horcrux and the nearness of Lucius's own Mark. Severus closed his mind to it, ignoring everything except for Lucius's touch.

Fingers unbuttoned his robes, teased his skin, fluttering along the pulse of blood through Severus's veins to curl around his cock. Lucius bent Severus over the large library table, pressing his face into the polished wood. He yanked on Severus's hair, pulling his head back to hiss in his ear. "You belong to me. You belong with me, writhing underneath me, filled with my come and crying my name."

He was fire, he was air, he possessed Severus and reveled in it. Severus jerked under his fingers, arched up into his touch, and met him, plea for plea.

Lucius bit his neck, leaving dark bruises from his earlobe down to his collarbone. "No doddering old fool is going to keep you away from me. No amount of time or distance is going to make you forget that you belong to me, that you are mine, you understand?"

Pulling Severus's pants down, Lucius spread his legs and thrust two fingers inside him with a murmured lubrication spell. Twist and burn and stretch, it was the same fire between them as though they'd never parted, as though a Vow did not weigh down Severus's shoulders and lighten his Dark Mark. Lucius's touch set him on fire, electrified his nerves, claimed him and satisfied him.

Caught up in the flood of darkness that filled the room, his nerves sizzling with need and with anticipation for the end of his task, pinned to the table by Lucius's weight, Severus only shook. He whimpered as Lucius finger-fucked him, whimpered at the burn of the fingers inside him.

"Yours, Lucius, only yours," he managed to say. "Take me, make me yours."

He was lost in the current of magic and the burn of sex. Eyes closed, fingers gripped around the heavy book lying on the table, his body shook with the effort not to squirm or struggle as Lucius bit him and owned him and fucked him.

His fingers touched the book, and an arc of magic burned through him, from his fingertips through his Mark to his heart, darkness sizzling through him. It was his Master's Horcrux, it was pain to send him into an ecstasy of pleasure, and it was his undoing. He clutched the book and clenched his muscles around Lucius, begging for release.

The tang of blood hung rich and dark in the air as Lucius's teeth broke his skin, and Severus felt the blood trickle down between his shoulder blades. He was claimed, he was alive, he was freed. The blood itched, and the brush of Lucius's long hair against his shoulders itched, and Severus gritted his teeth together, needing more.

The Dark Mark on his forearm flared as Lucius came inside him, biting his other shoulder. The blood began to trickle in an unsteady, half-symmetrical line, and Severus rutted against the table until he came, clenching his muscles and arching his back.

"Mine," Lucius said, with a quick kiss. His lips were damp and soft, and his warm breath raised gooseflesh on the back of Severus's neck. "Mine."

With a whisper, he healed the marks on Severus's back. He kissed the healed skin, whispering "mine" again, and he rubbed his hands in soothing circles on Severus's back, bringing him down from the pinnacle.

He pulled out of Severus, standing and straightening his robes. He brushed back a lock of hair, as perfect and unruffled as ever. "I must get back to the party. Narcissa is no doubt wondering where I am."

"Somehow, I think she knows," Severus said. Hiding a wince, he pulled up his pants and began to do up his buttons. The ache of the Dark Mark was less, with Lucius standing by the door, but the thrum of the darkness, the pull of the shattered soul was just as strong.

"Severus, you never change, do you? Are you coming?"

Lucius held the door open, his fingers twitching and his mouth set in a hard impatient line, but Severus shook his head. "I must get back to Hogwarts, the old fool will be suspicious as it is."

"Well, then. Do not stay away for so long again."

Severus stopped him at the door, his hand hovering an inch away from Lucius's skin, not daring to touch him. "Lucius –"

"Yes?"

"May I – could I perhaps borrow a few books from your library while I am here? It would give me the perfect excuse to return here sooner, and in fact, I have been looking for a few fourteenth century treatises –"

"You really never change, do you? Take whatever you like," Lucius said. He clapped a hand on Severus's shoulder and leaned over to kiss him on the temple, his lips lingering there for a second. "Come back soon, my Severus."

-------

When Severus returned to Hogwarts, he let slip the cloak of darkness that kept his Vow safe and secret in his mind. It burned, like heart light, like hearth warmth, and it was enough to keep the tarnished and twisted darkness of the Horcruxes at bay. He carried them in a warded bag, and paid no heed to the agonizing rustle of soul shards, no heed to the clanking metal or the searing heat or the piercing pain. There was nothing left for his Master but empty tricks, and Severus was not easily fooled. Darkness had swept through his soul once, but it had no dulled his mind or sapped his magic.

Dark and twisted, his Master had been mad to fragment his soul. There was nothing to guard the fragments, only petty and inconsequential traps ringed around the relics – child's play and nothing more. With the diary, the first Horcrux he found, to heighten the pull of the darkness and guide him, Severus found the others. He'd scoured all the country, hunting through town and countryside, following the pull of the darkness and refusing to succumb to it.

Hogwarts was a haven, its wrought iron gates opening for him without hesitation. There was nothing here of the madness that Voldemort had wrought, nothing of the betrayal and pain that he had given Severus. There was light here, light here for him with his task completed, and as Severus walked up to the castle along the paths that he had known, the burden in his hand was enough to lighten his journey.

The gargoyles moved aside for him without waiting for a password, and Severus nodded at them as he went up the stairs. The Vow was thrumming through its veins, the comforting weight of it in his mind still solid and steady. Severus took a deep breath and stepped through the door into Albus's office.

Fawkes fluffed his feathers with a deep-throated croon, rustling his wings and peering at Severus. The pull of the Vow came to a crescendo in his veins, pulling at him until he set the bag of Horcruxes on Albus's desk, and Severus took a deep breath, stepping away from the darkness that still seeped out of the warded bag.

"Severus, you've returned at last," Albus said, and he made Severus welcome, pouring tea and offering scones and biscuits and sherbet lemons. He fussed and fluttered over Severus without a single look at the bag, until Severus thrust the teapot away, slopping liquid all over the desk, and scowled.

"What are you going to do with them?" he asked.

"Of course they will be disposed of properly," Albus says. "There's a lengthy ritual, precautions to take, wards to think of ... they will be safe until then, never fear. There's no chance of anything happening with Fawkes here to guard over them."

Severus nodded and set his teacup on the desk. "Then, if you have no further need of me, I will ..."

"No further need of you? Don't be absurd, Severus, how can you think such a thing?"

A look and a gesture at the bag was enough to convey his meaning to Albus, and Severus shrugged and stood to leave.

Albus caught him half-way out of his chair, pressing another cup of tea into his hands. "You can't know how relieved I am to see you return here now, Severus. I am in need of a new Potions Professor."

"Slughorn ..."

"Is on the verge of retiring, and not the professor that I want here at this delicate time," Albus said with a nod toward the Horcruxes. "There's a potion that we'll need to destroy these, it's quite difficult from what I understand of it. I couldn't trust anyone else, Severus."

Severus closed his eyes. "I will brew the potion for you."

"Excellent." Albus Summoned a book from his shelves, and it smacked into his hand, the noise resounding through the room. He stroked the spine of the book and passed it to Severus.

"It's open to the correct page – this is the potion that you'll need to brew. It's quite complex, as you can see, but I imagine you'll be able to obtain most of the ingredients without too much trouble."

Doxy brains, dragon liver, fabric from a Dementor's cloak, all foul ingredients suited to this foul purpose – Severus turned the page to read the ritual. "Immerse the Horcrux in the potion during the dark of the moon, wash it in the blood of a unicorn foal, and ... you can't mean to perform this ritual."

Severus had sacrificed a child, he had killed the innocent, he had darkened his soul beyond recognition – and this, his redemption, sickened him. Dumbledore shone with light, bright enough to light the desert and strong enough to make darkness flee, but this was beyond darkness.

With a green flare, sparks popping from the fireplace, Minerva McGonagall tumbled out of the Floo. She shook the soot from her robes and twisted her hair back up into a bun. "Albus, he's off the list."

She stopped when she saw Severus, giving him a piercing look over her glasses. "Mr. Snape, how good of you to return to Hogwarts for a visit. It's been quite a while since you were here last."

"Professor McGonagall."

She frowned and turned to Albus. "Headmaster, I must speak with you – it's a matter of some urgency."

Poised and calm, Albus slipped the bag of Horcruxes under his desk, his motions so smooth that McGonagall overlooked them or dismissed them as unimportant. "Severus may hear anything that you have to say, Minerva – I suspect that he'll become intimately involved with the situation. I've offered him a space on our faculty for next year, as Slughorn's replacement."

McGonagall accepted the cup of tea and the lemon sherbet, sitting in the chair next to Severus. Spine straight, fingers twitching, she bit her lip before speaking. "Albus, are you certain that it's entirely wise to –"

"Quite certain," he said. "Severus has my complete trust. You may speak freely in front of him."

She hesitated, but did not contradict him. "Harry Potter's name has been crossed off the list, Headmaster. He must have expressed his intention to attend another school, but he hasn't received any of his letters."

Leaning forward, McGonagall rested her clasped hands on the desk. They brushed against a silver whirligig and set it to flight – it buzzed around the room and came to rest next to Fawkes, still vibrating.

"You know what sort of people they were when you left him there, Albus. You don't know what they've done to him – convinced him that magic doesn't exist, persuaded him to reject his parents and the world he belongs to, separated him from everything that should be his birthright."

"You don't know what they've done to him either," Severus said. Darkness swirled in him at the mention of his enemy's son, the babe he had condemned, the fate he could have averted. "Raised him in the lap of luxury and sent him off to Eton, no doubt thinking that he's better than the rest of us."

"They're not allowing him his letters, Snape. He's not being allowed to make the choice."

"He has made the choice, Minerva – it may not have been an informed choice, but Harry has chosen not to attend Hogwarts, and we must respect that," Albus said.

McGonagall spluttered, and Severus smirked, Albus waving his hands to clear the air between them and insisting on another round of tea and sweets. "There is nothing that I can do, Minerva ... I can't interfere with Harry's decision, but I will see to it that Severus and I pay the boy a visit before term starts."

She was placated and ushered out the door, with Severus's mouth still stinging with the lemon sherbets that had been forced on him and his throat still tight with remarks he had repressed.

"What do you mean, a visit before term starts?" Severus asked Albus after the sparks from Minerva's departure had subsided, sputtering out to nothing on the hearth.

"We'll need Harry's help to destroy the Horcruxes, of course."

Darkness swirled around the bag hidden under Dumbledore's desk, the swirls and shrieks of his Master's fragmented soul clamoring in his ears, adding soot-black stains to his blackened soul. Severus had done this, had caused it – from the damnation of the boy to the destruction of his soul, Severus had done it all.

"No," he said, setting his will against Dumbledore's. "He's only a boy, an innocent boy raised by Muggles. You can't taint his soul with this kind of dark magic."

"It must be done, Severus. Harry is the only one who can destroy Voldemort – it's been prophesied, as you well know."

"Prophecy – a load of arrant nonsense that Trelawney spouted to impress her potential employer, you mean. You can't base the corruption of an innocent on that vague moon-mist."

Dumbledore cast a ward on his desk, setting the bag of Horcruxes in a safe circle. Contained by the ward, the darkness seethed, and Severus took a deep breath. The pull of the soul-shards was lessened, the twisting agony of the darkness was muted, and he rubbed his forearm to soothe away the last of the pain.

"No one other than Harry can do this – he's fated to destroy Voldemort. The ritual won't be effective if anyone else performs it."

"The world won't be any better off if you make Harry Potter into a Dark Lord in order to dispose of Lord Voldemort. You can't corrupt him like this, Headmaster. Not even Potter's wretched offspring deserves such a fate."

"I do what I must, and nothing more." Fawkes cooed, a high and fluttering note that echoed in the room, and Albus reached over and took the book from Severus's hands, closing it and sending it back to its place on the shelf.

"You don't know that you must do this. The Prophecy didn't say that Harry Potter would destroy Lord Voldemort before his eleventh birthday using a spell found on page ninety-three of Soul Magicks. You don't know that this is fated, and if you force the issue ... if you taint Potter now ..."

Dumbledore shook his head, the wrinkles in his face deepening. "Severus, he must be the one to kill the Dark Lord. There's no other option."

"That is not the only option, Albus. Can't you see that?"

Severus took a deep breath, setting his teacup on the desk with a clatter that rang out like a bell in the silence. Darkness swirled through him, drawn to the fragments of his Master's soul, and the light that shone from Albus and his phoenix was enough to blind him.

"I've done enough in my life," Severus said. "If you intend to use an innocent boy in this ritual, then you'll do so without my help. Find someone else to brew the potion for you."

"Why are you so concerned about him? He's James Potter's son, and more of a pampered celebrity than his father ever was ... likely to have the same faults, magnified ten-fold. He can't even be bothered to leave his pampered lifestyle to come to learn at Hogwarts – likely, he doesn't lift a finger to help himself, doesn't turn a page in a book. All of his celebrity, his family fortune, all of it will have gone to his head. Why exert yourself to defend a boy like that?"

Dumbledore knew Severus's weaknesses, homing in on them like a bee drawn to a flower. Severus folded his arms across his chest, grinding his teeth until his jaw popped. "Would you have his faults be magnified a hundred-fold? Would you have him be the next Tom Riddle, more powerful and more dreadful? Would you condemn him, without allowing him to make his own choice?"

"Let him make a choice, then," Albus said. "We'll go to him in Surrey and ask him if he will help us."

"After abandoning him to be raised in the Muggle world, can you imagine that he has enough understanding to make that choice?"

"Severus, the Prophecy ..."

"Was made by Sibyll bloody Trelawney. Don't tell me that you put any stock into it."

Severus rose when Albus opened his mouth to speak. Striding over to the door, he said, "On your own conscience be it, if you decide to do this. I'll have no part in it."

Dumbledore closed the door with a wave of his hand. "Wait ... Severus, does the boy mean that much to you?"

Severus reached for the doorknob and was shocked by Albus's wards – the sting of electricity ran through his fingers and up to his heart, an unpleasant buzz through his veins. He let his hand fall and turned to glare at Albus. "You know that he does."

Rubbing his fingers together, Severus banished the rest of the sting from the spell. "Having condemned him once, how can I do it again?"

"Even if it means condemning the rest of the world to eternal damnation under Voldemort's reign?"

Albus's mouth was a taut line, his wrinkles drawn together into deep furrows. Like a portrait faded with age and dust, the light that shone from Albus was muted and dull. There was no taint of darkness to it, there was nothing but his pure intentions, but there was a filter of uncertainty that left his light diffuse and blurred.

"You don't know that it will," Severus said. "You don't know that at all."

Severus pointed his wand at his left forearm, and without a word, he rent the sleeve, the fabric falling away to expose his Mark. "Darkness touched me once, and look at what I have become. Is this the fate you would choose for the boy?"

Dumbledore pointed his wand at Severus – a fierce look, a gleam in those impossibly blue eyes, and Severus was afraid. He straightened his back, holding his head high and looking Albus in the eye.

Warmth tickled his skin as Albus mended his sleeve – a breath of magic, a breath of light, and more. "You'll complete the ritual with me, if the boy is not involved?"

Darkness piled upon his soul, sin after sin etched in innocent blood – it was to protect the Potter boy. Severus nodded once, and Albus continued. "And you'll teach Potions at Hogwarts, won't you? I'll have need of you here."

Hogwarts – home and haven, penance and prison – this was the price he had to pay. Severus nodded again, his hair falling forward in jerky waves to mask his face – his future for the boy, his freedom to spare the boy he had condemned.

-------

Severus slammed the door shut, turning to face the cowering class. Seven years of teaching, and he'd made no impression on impressionable minds, inculcated no knowledge and made no strides in teaching the brats the importance of proper safety measures. There was no redemption in teaching, no salvation to be found in the sheer willpower that it took to refrain from strangling the chattering, squirming wretches.

"If I ever see a repeat of today's incident again, you will rue it until the day you leave school with failing marks and no employment prospects whatsoever," Severus said as the bell rang. "Three feet on the explosion, its causes and the proper brewing of today's potion, due next week. Class dismissed."

The students filed out of the classroom like obedient marionettes, as dull and obedient as unpainted wooden faces. Draco lingered behind the rest, placing a sample of his perfect potion on Severus's desk along with his notes. It gleamed, turquoise bubbles rising to the top of the emerald solution, a fleeting effervescence that faded away as Draco spoke. "Father says to tell you that Mother is in France this weekend," he said.

"Yes," Severus said. "Thank you, Mr. Malfoy."

Lucius popped into the classroom as soon as Draco had left, a half-smile on his face and a bottle of champagne in his hand. "Draco told you the news, I assume."

"I have a class in fifteen minutes," Severus said, turning back to his marking. He dipped his quill in the inkwell, shaking off the excess ink. Like tiny drops of black rain, a sparse, gleaming mist, the ink splattered down onto the blotter, and he set his quill to the first essay.

Lucius sat on his desk, setting the bottle down with a heavy thud. "I've warded the door," he said. "It's been so long ... just ten minutes, please."

"We'll have the entire weekend."

Atrocious interpretation of the text, Severus wrote next to the first paragraph. His hand did not shake as he formed the spiky letters, the quill scratching across the parchment. Incorrect hypothesis. Insufficient consideration of the safety hazards involved in handling dragonsbane.

Lucius stood behind him, planting kiss after kiss on the nape of his neck. He breathed over the moist skin, and Severus shuddered, sending a spray of ink droplets onto the parchment. "Lucius," he said.

"I need you now," Lucius said. "I won't interfere with your marking, will that suit you?"

He Banished Severus's trousers, his hand tracing a path from hipbone to cock as he nipped Severus's earlobe.

"Yes," Lucius said into his ear, stroking his cock. "I'm touching myself ... I'm going to come, all over the back of your robes. I'm going to mark you as mine, and then banish the evidence. No one will know, no one will see how dirty you are, no one will know that you're mine – but we'll both know, won't we?"

Severus bit his lip and dipped his quill in the inkwell again. Incorrect order of addition. Poorly cited, he wrote. His hand trembled as Lucius scraped a thumb across the head of his cock, pulling back the foreskin and teasing his slit.

"You're going to come to me tonight," Lucius said. "I'm going to fuck you in Narcissa's bed. I'm going to fill you with my come and make you beg for more."

"Fuck me now." Severus dropped the quill, standing and bending over his desk. He trembled at Lucius's touch, spreading his legs and reaching for his wand. "Please, Lucius."

His hand was knocked aside, Lucius drawing his own wand and casting a lubrication spell. "You're mine," he said. "No one touches you but me."

He thrust two fingers into Severus, stretching him quickly, and then bit Severus's shoulder, marking him.

"Now, Lucius. Fuck me," Severus said. He heard noises in the corridor, the chatter and laughter of the students drowning out Lucius's moan. "Fuck. Silencing spell?"

"One way," Lucius said. Inserting a third finger and brushing against Severus's prostate, he reached around to stroke Severus's cock. "They'll never hear us. They'll never know that their professor is being buggered over his own desk, they'll never know that you're sore and limping because you've been well-fucked. They'll never know what put that smirk on your face."

Lucius thrust into him, the burn of his thick cock enough to make Severus clench his hands, snapping the quill and crumpling the essays stacked on the desk. Hard and fast, he fucked Severus, pumping his cock and whispering in his ear.

"Mine," he said, his breath a tickle against Severus's skin. "You're mine, mine to love and mine to mark and mine to fuck."

"Yours for the next five minutes," Severus said, clenching his muscles around Lucius's cock. "Hurry up and fuck me."

Lucius froze, grabbing Severus's chin and twisting his head for a savage kiss. Lips smashed together, teeth clashed, tongues tangled in a struggle for dominance. "I'll take all the time in the world," he said, "I'll take you like this, slow and gentle, I'll make you beg for it."

Severus slammed back into him, impaling himself. "Now," he said. "Fuck, I don't have time for this, Lucius."

"Come for me, then." Lucius stroked him off, brushing against his prostate and claiming his mouth in a deeper, gentler kiss.

The essays were scattered on the floor as they rocked the desk, a haphazard ivory snowfall on the gray stones. Severus knocked the inkwell over as he scrabbled for a grip on the desk, as Lucius thrust into him, hitting his prostate and biting his neck.

Severus came, staining the desk with his release and pulling Lucius over the edge with him. Spinning him around, Lucius gave him a fast, furious kiss and with a flick and a swish, restored his trousers and teaching robes.

The desk was cleaned, the essays were restored in a neat pile, and then Lucius turned to Severus, hiding the marks on his neck with a glamourie. "They won't be able to see them, but they'll still be there. You'll feel them. You'll feel the burn in your arse all day, and tonight, you'll come back to me."

Severus grabbed Lucius for a last kiss, thrusting the bottle of champagne into his hands. "Keep that for tonight, then," he said, and removed the wards on the door.

Standing ramrod-straight, Severus watched Lucius walk away with a self-satisfied swagger, his hair shining down his back, his boot heels rapping a sharp rhythm on the floor. He left the door ajar behind him, and the students filed into the room, their chatter and bright energy filling the silence and destroying Severus's afterglow.

Severus's hands were stained with ink – he banished the last evidence of their activities with a flick of his wand, and sat at his desk without a wince.

"Silence. There will be an examination today, to determine how much of the material covered thus far has been retained by your pathetic, overworked brains. Put your books away and begin."

Animated by his wand, the chalk flew across the board, scribbling the exam questions and punctuating the end of each one with a vicious screech. The students jumped at the noise, and Severus smirked.

There was no light to be added to his life, no joy in this, nothing but the perverse pleasure of taunting and tormenting the weak. His penance left him hollow, the students' words echoing off him like a drum – each beat was another nail driven into his heart. The tedium of teaching, the unappreciative brats who left his classes empty-headed, the sharp thrill of spying, the marks that Lucius left on his body – this was the only way to save Harry Potter, but this was not the way to salvation for Severus.

Flat and wrung-out, he reached for the essay on top of the pile. He took a new quill from his desk and dipped it in the inkwell, shaking the drops of excess ink onto the blotter. Excruciating prose, incomprehensible hypothesis, he wrote. The reaction of belladonna with basilisk venom is extremely volatile and not to be essayed lightly. Do not imagine that you have the competence necessary for the task.

A gray and gloomy day, peppered with incandescent explosions and all the vitriolic comments he could squeeze into the margins of his students' essays – Severus wrapped himself in his dark cloak and strode out of the dungeons, heading for the edge of the wards.

He Apparated to Malfoy Manor – popping through the wards like the shimmer-quick destruction of a soap bubble, he landed in the master bedroom. Lucius was waiting for him, slim and pale, naked on the bed with his beauty showcased in a pool of silver-gray satin sheets.

Lucius stretched, languid and slow, displaying himself for Severus. His rosy nipples pinched hard with silver clamps, his proud cock bound with a black velvet ribbon, he was breathtaking. He was a vision of sin and beauty, a study in lust and depravity, and Severus's cock hardened as he watched Lucius touch himself.

Striding over to the bed, Severus pointed his wand at Lucius, hesitating long enough to see his breath catch and his eyes widen. The thrill of power, the intoxication of control – Severus drank deeply of it, binding Lucius to the bed with silken-soft cords. "You're mine," he said, tracing the outline of Lucius's body with his wand, jabbing it into the hollow of his throat, the soft spot between his ribs, the dimple of his navel.

Lucius struggled against the bonds, writhing under his touch and squirming away from the prodding wand. "Severus," he said, "oh fuck, Severus."

Severus jabbed his lip, closing his mouth and tracing the curve of his throat, the planes of his chest, the dusting of golden hair on his skin. He jabbed each nipple, giving it a short electric buzz from the tip of his wand, making Lucius arch his back and moan.

"More," he demanded.

"In due time." Severus flung his cloak onto the nearest chair and knelt on the bed, his dark and formal teaching robes in stark contrast to Lucius's wanton nakedness. "This is what you wanted, isn't it? This is what you were begging for in the classroom today – you wanted me to make you mine, just as I am yours."

Setting his wand to that low electric vibration, Severus traced Lucius's hipbones, the taut muscles of his thighs, the trail of hair from navel to groin – teasing and fleeting strokes, darting near his leaking cock but never touching it.

Lucius thrashed against the restraints, wanton and desperate, obscenities falling from his lips, each adding more kindling to their passion. Severus burned for him, burned to possess him and be possessed by him. Darkness coiled around them, mounting with their desire, spreading from the matching Marks on their arms. Dark as a slick of oil spreading across a lake, fierce with need and regret, it consumed them. Lips parted, perfect hair disheveled, Lucius thrust up against Severus, rubbing his cock against Severus's groin and begging for more.

Severus Banished his clothing, moving to lie over Lucius – he gloried in the silken, heady slide of skin against skin, their bodies aligned and their hearts pounding. He bent down, stealing Lucius's lips for a kiss, plunging his tongue in to explore and claim his mouth. Perfectly aligned, Severus covered Lucius's body with his own – cocks rubbing together, hearts beating together, their lips joined and their legs tangled.

He stretched out, matching Lucius's pose – arms and legs spread-eagled, hands and feet touching. Their forearms rubbed together, Dark Mark against Dark Mark, and the tingle of feedback, darkness joining and increasing, made Severus shudder, moaning into Lucius's mouth.

It was too much, the dark bliss enough to push him over the edge – Severus pulled away, breaking the connection between their Marks, sitting up on Lucius's thighs. He wrapped a hand around their cocks, stroking them together – with his other hand, he scrabbled for the vial of lubricant left open on the bedside table.

Finger-fucking himself, Severus reached up to toy with Lucius's nipples, pulling at the silver clamps and leaning over them to leave a love-bite on his throat. He was still sore from the afternoon's fuck, still feeling the exquisite burn as he stretched himself, watching Lucius's eyes darken as he struggled, helpless.

This was Severus's –control, absolute and heady. He rose up, positioning himself over Lucius's cock, and he waited there, pinning Lucius's hips to the bed and teasing him with shallow thrusts.

"You'll pay for this, you damned tease," Lucius said, struggling against him. "Fuck, do it now."

His eyes were storm-dark, the color of tarnished silver, and a droplet of sweat was beaded on his upper lip. Severus reached up to wipe it away, swiping his thumb across Lucius's lips and forcing them open.

"You talk too much," he said. "I'm going to fuck your mouth."

"Fuck me," Lucius said – proud and reduced to begging, to struggling against the bonds that Severus had imposed on him.

With one last teasing, shallow thrust against Lucius's cock, Severus moved up to settle on his chest, tracing the curve of Lucius's lips with the head of his cock. He thrust in, past the velvet-warm lips and the faint hard scrape of teeth, burying himself in Lucius's mouth without giving him a chance to adjust. This was bliss, the teasing strands of magic wrapping around Severus, pulling him up through darkness and light, through the rainbow-slick surface of the water and onto a higher plane.

He thrust, claiming Lucius's surrender, claiming his choked cries, claiming the shuddering ripples of his throat as he moaned. He thrust down Lucius's throat with one last vicious stroke to choke him, and then he pulled out to come on Lucius's face, the white splatter of semen like pearls on skin flushed pink.

Severus kissed him, tongue-fucking Lucius and tasting himself, using his thumbs to rub his come onto Lucius's face. "My pretty whore," he said. "You'd beg me for it, wouldn't you? Just as you made me beg this afternoon, just as desperate and wanton as a whore."

"Bastard," Lucius said with a gasp, rolling his shoulders to try to dislodge Severus from his chest.

Relaxed and ready now, Severus moved down to his previous position, poising himself over Lucius's cock and reaching down to tug at his nipples. "Beg," he said.

"Do it, damn you, just do it. I'll curse you into oblivion when this is over – I'll curse you until you feel like this ..."

With one smooth motion, Severus impaled himself on Lucius's cock, and rode him, bringing him to the edge with a series of quick, steady thrusts. Lucius filled him, moaning and clenching his muscles as he came – Severus watched the tendons taut in his arms and neck, the rictus of bliss that froze his face.

"Fuck you," he said, when Severus rolled off him and smirked, tugging at the ropes that held Lucius still. "Release me now."

Proud and captive, beautiful and sated, entirely debauched – Severus stole one last kiss, bruising his lips before setting him free.

Lucius stretched, rubbing his wrists and ankles. "You didn't need to tie them so tight."

"You loved every moment of it. Don't play the blushing maiden with me."

Reclining onto the pile of pillows, Lucius pulled Severus back into a loose embrace, one arm around his shoulder and his chin resting on Severus's head. Cheek against collarbone, breath against heartbeat – Severus reached down to unfasten the nipple clamps, letting the silver metal fall to the floor with a thin, high ring. In the warm daze of completion, falling asleep against his shoulder, Severus let Lucius claim a kiss and stroke his hair, soothing him.

When Severus woke from the doze, warm and comfortable, twilight had muted the room, softening the hard elegant lines of the modern furniture with a misty haze. Lucius was nibbling on his ear, and stiffened when Severus moved. "We need to talk," he said.

"What is it?"

Lucius snapped his fingers, bringing a flare of light to the torches in the room and summoning a house elf. "Dinner for two, served here," he said.

"You know that Bella has escaped from Azkaban," he said. He stretched out next to Severus, his pale skin brightened by the red marks left by their lovemaking – lines around his wrists, haloes around his nipples, bites on his neck. "Narcissa has joined her in France, to gather some of our brethren and organize the next meeting."

"What?"

Lucius Summoned the bottle from the table by the window, opening it with a pop and pouring the fizzy champagne into two crystal flutes. "I believe that our Lord made plans for his return – certain objects that we will be able to find and use in an attempt to call him back to us."

Severus took a deep sip of champagne, rolling it around in his mouth and letting the bubbles pop against his tongue with sharp tingles that spread and ran down his spine. "You're certain?" he asked.

"Very. The days of glory will return to us, our Master to lead us – stronger than he was before, more terrible and more powerful than ever. The Muggles will quake in terror and serve us, the Muggleborns and Mugglelovers will be exterminated, and there will be no end to our Lord's reign. Can you not see it, feel it like a new dawn in the future, Severus? Have you had no hints, no signs, felt no stirrings in your Mark?"

Darkness swirled within him and swirled away, Severus refusing to resist Lucius's onslaught of kisses. Mouth, cheeks and neck, captured and claimed, the touch of Lucius's lips branded him. "I thought it was only my own, foolish hope," Severus said.

A new dawn for his Master, a new dawn of darkness – Severus splayed his fingers on Lucius's skin, mapping the planes of his back and the hills and valleys of his spine. These hands had known darkness, had been stained with blood and death and had been tarnished with lost innocence, with betrayal.

Severus rolled over, trapping Lucius with his body and bending down to kiss him. "Enough talk," he said, his blood cold in his veins – he did not want to hear it, did not want to feel the darkness creeping in on him. "As overjoyed as I am by our Master's return ... we can talk about it later. It's been too long since Narcissa graced you with her absence."

He placed a trail of kisses from Lucius's chin to his navel. "We have better things to do with this weekend."

-------

part three