Written for: Participant #014, Calliope Feldwick - aka - florahart
Author: Participant #051, Hepatica Whortleberry h_whortleberry - aka - chazpure
Rating: Containing subject matter of the most Indelicate Nature! Suitable only for those of the Hardiest constitutions, whose Mature minds are undisturbed by Tales of Passionate and Erotic Discourse! (NC17)
Pairings: Primary: Severus/Harry; there are numerous minor pairings. Please see Content and Notes.
Length: 42,000 words
Content: slash, het, oral, anal, masturbation, dubious consent, orgies, sex magic, mind/mood altering substances, male pregnancy, rimming, pregnant sex, h/c, schmoop, tortured Latin.
My Dearest Calliope,
You cannot know with what trepidation and delight I read your Missive, nor the delirious heights of delectable Ecstasy to which my poor mind ascended, once my feeble intellect grasped the full import of your words. I took pen in trembling hand and assayed to scribe a tale that might, au moins aspire to amuse. Herewith I set before you the fruits of my labour, in the hopes of bringing a smile to your lips. I hesitate to say more, but for a brief mention of the Nature and Variety of the Carnal Interactions depicted herein. You may rest assured that the Primary burden of this tale revolves about Dear Harry and Dear Severus, but it does rather meander through some Sordid and Debauched events in which Numerous Others make their appearances in undeniably Indelicate fashion. I trust you will Understand and Forgive the depths of Depravity to which I have stooped, in endeavouring to craft this little Tale.
Dear Severus also wishes me to inform you that he does not, under any circumstances, acknowledge the actions alleged in this "scurrilous drivel," and most particularly, he has never sobbed nor whimpered in his entire adult life. and it was the hormones, damn it!
I remain, yours faithfully,
Note the Second
I apologize most humbly for this tale's tardiness. It was to have been posted on July 6.
Parts 1-5 have now been posted.
ETA: The entire story has now been posted.
There were some days Severus Snape really regretted ever having become a Death Eater.
He had come to the conclusion that he'd made a rather poor decision on the first night he watched his cohorts torture and murder a Muggleborn, under the smiling direction of the powerful wizard whose Mark burned black on his own arm. After that, it hadn't taken him long to grasp his courage in both hands and flee to Albus Dumbledore, spilling out his terror and disgust along with his confession at the old wizard's feet. He had expected Azkaban; being ordered back to Voldemort to play spy had been both surprising and terrifying, but he'd had no alternative.
He'd had his nose rubbed in his folly many a time since then, but he wasn't certain even that horrible night on the Astronomy Tower, when he had looked into the bright blue eyes of the one man who had wholly trusted him, as he cast the curse that killed him, was worse than what he faced tonight.
He stared from the scarred, spotty arse of Walden MacNair to the thick, purple cock of Bolius Brackenwright, to the wild tangle of black hair at Bellatrix Lestrange's crotch, swallowed his gorge and wished fervently that he had never even heard the name "Voldemort."
The Dark Lord had summoned all his followers to an underground chamber, where he sat on a stone throne, the air about him crackling with power. Severus had known something was in the offing, as their Lord had been sequestered with his collection of rare grimoires and ancient magical scrolls for days, searching for something no one dared even question.
Severus's best guess was that the Dark Lord was looking for some means of enhancing his personal power, or perhaps for a magical weapon or arcane spell to use against his enemies. It would not have been a potion, as he had not asked Severus to brew anything or even acquire any ingredients, but that was as much as Severus knew.
He'd taken a few precautions of his own, hoping to be able to thwart the Dark Lord's plans, if only slightly. His personal wards were layered seven-fold, with the top three layers masked from magical probing and concealing the layers beneath them. He had brewed a potion that would prevent power-drain and another that would turn any power stolen from him into a painful magical canker, eating away at the thief. When summoned, he drained the potions, readied his mental and magical defenses, and apparated to his Lord's side.
He certainly had not expected this.
"My children," the Dark Lord had intoned, raising his hands to welcome them all, "today, at long last, victory is within our grasp. Today, we shall join together and create a force so powerful that none shall be able to withstand it! Today, you, my faithful ones, shall truly become one with me, one in purpose, one in power! We shall invoke ancient rites and with them we shall wreak magic of such strength, such might as never the world has seen!" He had risen to his feet. "Divest yourselves of your garments!"
Severus had blinked, but even thus caught off-guard, his hands were faster to his buttons than several of the other bewildered Death Eaters. He had pushed the growing horror in his mind far, far to the back, along with his surge of gratitude that Draco was safely in his grandmother's care, far off in Luxembourg, and then concentrated on filling his thoughts with the glory of the Dark Lord and what honour it was to stand in his presence and be of service to this great work. He had kept his eyes trained on Voldemort's feet - a safe target - and stripped down to his skin.
When they were all nude before him, Voldemort had raised his hands and his eyes to the ceiling and intoned a long spell in some language so obscure Severus could not begin to guess its origin. A reddish mist gathered around the Dark Lord's hands. He had laughed and cast it at his assembled followers. "Now, my children! Join together and we shall raise power!"
They had all gasped, as the mist swirled about them. Severus coughed and felt his cock spring to attention, his senses awash in a haze of sudden lust. He heard panting and groans starting up all around the room, and as he looked from one of his naked, sweating cohorts to the next, he really, really wished he had never become a Death Eater.
MacNair was groaning and stroking his skinny, pale cock as he sank to his knees. On the other side of the room, Wormtail whined as he scuttled along the floor and buried his nose in Gregor Ulevitch's arse. Bellatrix had latched onto Rastaban's mouth and was writhing against him as her long fingers with their red, red nails wrapped around Rodolphus's prick and began jerking at it. She frantically pushed Rastaban down to the stairs before the Dark Lord's throne and sank onto his cock. Rodolphus moaned and knelt behind her, cupping her breasts and frotting his prick along the crack of her arse.
Severus staggered as a surge of revulsion rose from somewhere deep inside him. He gritted his teeth and clenched his fists, but resisting the spell was not only futile, it was likely to be deadly. He gasped and threw his head back, wrapping his hand around his hard cock and starting to stroke it, trying desperately to shut out the writhing, moaning forms all around him. The mist swirled around him, thick and hungry. He eyed Bolius, who had dropped to all fours atop Geoffrey Crabbe and was frotting against his rampant erection, his taut arse waggling back and forth in time with his grunts. Severus felt his own cock throb at the sight. His stomach tried to turn over, but he forced it back and made his way over to Bolius.
Crabbe gasped and grunted as Bolius rocked against him. Severus dropped to his knees behind them, gripped Bolius's hips and shoved his cock in without a word. Bolius howled, but didn't stop rutting against Crabbe. Severus thrust deeper, drew back and slammed home again, finding their rhythm and matching it, stroke for stroke. Bolius began keening, whining in need as he bucked back and forth, with Crabbe's thick fingers clenched on his shoulders and Severus gripping his hips. The red mist writhed around them, glowing darker, almost purple as it caressed Brackenwright and Crabbe, but fading back to red as it slid over Severus.
Crabbe gave a strangled shout and came, convulsing beneath them. Bolius whimpered and began thrusting faster. Severus sped up as well, pounding him harder and harder, until he felt the man's arse clenching on his cock. His bollocks drew up as he rammed home once more and spent.
Brackenwright rolled to one side and lay there, panting. Crabbe looked dazed, a trickle of drool oozing from his slack lips.
Severus pulled back and let the mist writhe around him. It pulsed with sullen red light, and as it touched him, he felt his cock lift again, and a desperate, aching emptiness suddenly lanced through him, centered in his arse. He moaned and fell to the floor, fisting his cock again and curling in on himself in a futile attempt to ease the dreadful hunger.
Medrick Woolston stumbled by, then turned and dropped to his knees beside Severus. He groaned and pushed Severus onto his belly, then shoved a finger inside. Severus snarled at the intrusion and started to throw him off, but his outrage dissipated as the pain was eclipsed by the frantic feeling of yes, yes, more! as Woolston fingered him. He bit back another curse and struggled to cast a wordless lubrication spell without whimpering in need.
Woolston grunted as he added another finger and felt the squelchy slickness inside, then drew his hand back and set the blunt head of his prick to Severus's waiting hole. Severus found himself gathering his knees beneath him, panting and waiting for the fullness he so desperately needed. Medrick shoved in without finesse, but Severus nearly wept in joy at the sensation of completeness, wholeness that filled him along with Woolston's thick cock. He wanted to vomit. He wanted to disembowel the man. He wanted to apparate to Antarctica and never set eyes on another human soul.
He wanted Woolston to fuck him harder.
The hungry red mist slid over and around them, flickering to violet and purple as Woolston pounded away. Severus fisted his own aching cock as Woolston hammered him, and the red mist surged forward as he came, but flickered uneasily. Woolston finally spent and pulled out, stumbling to his feet and staggering away.
Severus lay on his back, panting, and saw the Dark Lord seated on his throne once more, head tipped back and arms outstretched as a purple haze built around him. He breathed it in, smiling in hideous ecstasy as it filled him. Severus shuddered, but another tongue of red mist touched him, and he gasped as he was filled with lust yet again. He got to his knees and crawled away from the throne, hoping to find a corner where he could simply ride out the storm of sensation, but he had gone no further than a few feet, when he bumped into a pile of writhing bodies, and the ache in his bollocks and arse would not be denied.
He blinked to clear the red mist from his eyes and managed to discern Narcissa beneath the bulk of Torval Anders, who was in turn being thoroughly rogered by Walden MacNair. Lucius sat beside them, watching with slightly glazed eyes and slowly stroking his long slender cock, as his wife moaned and arched and wrapped her elegant legs tight around Torval's thighs. Severus pushed into the pile and kissed Narcissa deeply, swallowing her moans and pressing his tongue into her mouth. Anders had one of her breasts in his mouth, so Severus cupped the other and toyed with the tightly crinkled nipple. He stretched out beside them and began rubbing his cock against Narcissa's hip, when he felt a hand on his shoulder.
He turned to see Lucius behind him and rolled onto his back. Lucius kissed him messily and fondled his aching cock, then reached lower and slipped two fingers into his arse. Past caring, Severus groaned and pulled his legs up and back, as Lucius managed to align cock to hole and slide home. The mist pulsed around them, red and purple and violet and black, roiling with the power they were feeding it. Lucius thrust into him over and over, biting his neck and shoulders. Severus arched up to meet each stroke, desperate to take Lucius deeper and deeper still, his own cock pressed between their sweaty, come-smeared bellies, hard and pulsing with need.
Lucius came with a gasp and a tensing of his fair patrician face, then toppled forward onto Severus, who kept trying to thrust up against him. A beefy hand rolled Lucius off of him and bent Severus nearly double before he realized who it was. Walden MacNair stuffed his skinny cock up Severus's arse and was grunting away in moments. There was a long moan, followed by breathless panting from beside him, then Narcissa crawled over to him and wrapped her hand around his cock, stroking him in counterpoint to MacNair's thrusts.
The mist settled over them, pulsing hungrily as their passions heightened. Edgar Goyle had joined them and was sloppily kissing Torval as he struggled to mount him. Severus moaned as Narcissa stroked him, and then sighed in relief when MacNair spent inside him and pulled out, and he could finally drop his legs back to the floor. His cock was red, aching, and nearly as raw as his arse felt; his head was pounding in pain, pulsing in time with his heart. He still wanted to find some place to be quietly and thoroughly sick, but when Lucius crawled over and buried his face in his wife's lap, Severus pulled away from her, rolled over on top of Lucius and began fingering him.
Lucius wriggled at the attention, drawing his knees up and presenting his rosy hole, even as he pushed Narcissa back and pressed his face between her legs. Severus didn't wait for further invitation, but shoved his cock in, finding Lucius already rather well lubricated and stretched. He thrust away, trying to ignore Bellatrix, who was yowling like a banshee, with Theobaldus Nott kneeling before her and Edmund Sprallitch industriously shoving his cock up her arse. "For You, my Lord! For You!" she cried.
Severus focused instead on the feel of Lucius's arse around his cock, clenching and milking him at every stroke, on the sway of the silver-white mane that swung back and forth, and on Narcissa, whose eyes had rolled back in her head at her husband's ministrations.
The mist roiled around them, purpling greedily at every touch. It still seemed dissatisfied with Severus, but he closed his eyes and managed to push his thoughts away, to let his mind drift in the sea of sensation, the pulsing, pounding rhythm of their coupling, the lush, ripe scents of sex and sweat, the gasps and grunts and groans, and the wet, meaty sounds of flesh sliding and slapping against flesh. His pulse pounded; his bollocks tightened; his cock spasmed...
He felt the mist surround him, bathing him, sucking at him. He threw back his head and abandoned himself wholly, shouting out as he came.
After that, all he knew was the hunger of the swirling red mist...
The final battle did not go according to the Dark Lord's plans.
Severus had done what he could prior to the onslaught, including sending another coded message to the Order and managing to poison Nagini without the Dark Lord detecting his involvement in his precious pet's demise. Now he kept moving, maneuvering, avoiding hexes and casting defensive spells with careful precision, trying to get into the most advantageous position. He quickly scanned the battlefield, trying to locate Harry bloody Potter, desperately hoping the Order had received and understood his warnings - and that the sodding Boy Who Lived had heeded them. He dodged another hex and ducked behind Goyle's bulky form, then darted to the dubious cover of a spindly bush.
Yes, there he was - glasses askew and face blood-streaked, but still on his feet, casting spells and making his way toward the Dark Lord. His usual shadows were beside him - the Granger chit's wild hair unmistakable, even in the battle. Severus shot a tanglefoot hex at a Death Eater who had taken aim at the brats, then kept moving forward, working his way toward the battle's focal point.
The Dark Lord spotted Potter and his group and laughed aloud - a hideous sound. He raised his hands and cried, "Now, Potter! Now you shall see what real power can do! POTENTIA GENERIS UNITUS!"
All across the battlefield, the Death Eaters stopped in their tracks, gasping as streams of red-violet light burst from them and flowed to their master, forming a scintillating web of power centered on the Dark Lord. It rippled and began tightening around the enemy, forcing some of the Order members to their knees. The Dark Lord continued to laugh as the power flowed to him, but he had failed to notice one crucial point.
There was a flaw in the web.
Where one major line of power should have been, there was only a sullen red mist that surged and ebbed, trying unsuccessfully to attach itself to Severus Snape. He wasn't sure what was blocking it, but he was grateful. He cast a protective shield between Potter and the Dark Lord, watching as it undulated across the battlefield, and forced the contracting red web aside.
Severus focused his mind and screamed with every bit of legilimantic power he possessed, hoping against hope that Potter would hear him, "Now, Potter! Through me! STRIKE!"
He saw Potter's head snap up and almost felt those piercing green eyes searching for him. They were dozens of yards apart, but he knew when Potter had spotted him, felt his disbelief, and - miracle of miracles! - felt Potter's sudden intuitive leap and gathering of power.
Severus drew on his Mark and opened his link to the Dark Lord. As he did, the red mist coalesced, transmuting into a beam of pure white light that leapt from his chest and parted the web of Dark power, shriveling it like a flame sears a spider web. He held his mental and magical connections to the Dark Lord and Potter open wide and heard the Dark Lord scream, "TRAITOR!"
The power mounted on both sides of the connection. He closed his eyes and prepared to die.
Hopefully, it would be enough.
Continued in Part 2