Chapter Text
The war was over.
But that didn’t mean things came down to the best possible resolution. Potter was dead, had been dead for a week now. Hogwarts would turn into a manufacturer for the next generation of death eaters, soon. Everything Dumbledore had planned for so extensively all those years, everything the Order of the Phoenix had fought for, was done. He still had some troubles trying to make the Elder Wand respond fully to him, even after he had won the wand by disarming him. But this, well, this was his smallest problem in the luxury realm he had created for himself.
Voldemort had laughed. When Narcissa returned, her hair a little bit messy, her eyes completely void, and had told that Potter was indeed dead, the Dark Lord laughed. Even if his death-eaters followed him for a long while now, they could not fully comprehend how his victory had tasted. How could they, after all? He was the one that had to live in the back of the head of that stupid moron, he was the one that had to hide, like the coward he wasn’t. All because of the Potter boy, all because of that prophecy. He had lived years just planning, and waiting, and regaining his strength; while he watched the world act as if he had been just a bad dream.
Little did they know a bad dream had just begun.
After Potter was killed, it wasn’t difficult to undermine the rest of the people by his side. Oh, there were some attempts to keep the high spirits of their side, the Longbottom boy had tried to give some tawdry speech, that just served to make Voldemort want to roll his eyes. Nagini then did her part and killed the boy, which brought some amusement for the remaining death eaters, that continued fighting through the slaughter. So, not only he got rid of Potter, but also Dumbledore’s backup prophecy. It was a day he would remember with great joy, certainly.
It had been one week since that glorious day, and Voldemort felt Draco staring at him, from where he was awkwardly standing as if waiting for his lord to explain why he had been called. Just a few days after the war was over, Voldemort took the Malfoy Manor for himself, as some sort of punishment for Lucius lack of faith. It didn’t help the fact that Narcissa had always looked a little unsettled about her family’s support for his cause. The only reason why Voldemort still had the Malfoys around was Draco. The boy would never know how important his step forward when his parents had called him to join Voldermort’s side had been for his strategy. How the other Death Eaters saw a palpable future to the cause when even the younger generation had joined their forces. He hadn’t won because of Draco, the boy was still a spoiled mommy’s boy, but it was indeed something that helped to tip the scale.
The main living room had turned into a room for his private amusement. He had a throne, made specifically from the wands of the Order of Phoenix’s members that had died. It was his requiem of victory. He waved his hand forward to the Malfoy boy, knowing he would understand he was authorized to come closer. The Elder Wand was poking through the gray cloak the Dark Lord was wearing. And even when the boy indeed stepped forward, the man leaned his torso against him, getting uncomfortably close. “Draco, my dear Draco.” He said, in his proper sarcastic tone, a wicked smile still dancing around his features, from when he was remembering his sweet victory.
“I want everyone to gather around here later. Dinner time, perhaps?” He added, his fingers intertwining against themselves as he moved back a bit on the throne. “There is a shipment arriving from Hogwarts. I thought it would have come sooner, but well… you know how much fun some of my followers are having with the survivors. But my patience has ended and, with it, their time.” He added, pursing his lips softly before she sighed. “Tell everyone I will finally reward my followers, my most loyal followers, with priceless gifts, to do as they wish.” He said with a small smirk. “And guess who will be the first one to choose which gift he desires?” The Dark Lord completed, pointing his bony index finger to Draco.
The Malfoy heir squirmed a bit in his place as if even standing was uncomfortable. He knew it would all be part of some plan the other man had. He wouldn’t allow him to get a reward if he didn’t want something in return. Because he had learned the hard way that Voldemort, as much as he talked about rewarding the loyal to him, always managed to use this rewards to get more from them. As if they turned into a debt. And even if something inside Draco was telling him he would better say no right now, he remembered what his mother had said, just after the war. Do exactly as you are told because I won’t bear to see you like I saw the Potter boy. So the blonde boy flicked his eyes down to the floor, barely nodding at Voldemort’s words.
“It will help you understand what is expected of you as my follower. It will separate the man from the child, because it’s past time that you start taking your own decisions, without mommy’s input.” Was it weird that Draco always felt a hint of jealousy in his tone every time he talked about his mother and their relationship? “It will make you grow because I am tired of having just a boy as a follower. I see great things for you, Draco. For your future by my side. But for that to happen, you need to learn how to be a man.”
The boy nodded again, his eyes never leaving the floor. It was probably about him killing someone. No, torturing someone. Everyone whispered about how Voldemort had turned bitter after Bellatrix had died in the hands of the Weasley mother. Because no one had a taste for torture like Bellatrix did. And, well, shipment always meant he was bringing in prisoners. At least it was what happened when the so-called last shipment arrived. A few Gryffindor boys, barely in their fifth year, who were murdered at a private party held by Voldemort, as a gift to Greyback.
“Everyone is invited to our dinner, Draco. However, not everyone will be gifted, only the most loyal, the ones that I feel that deserve a reward for their efforts during the war. And well, you.” He repeated, making clear the gift wasn’t because he was entirely pleased by Draco’s role during the war, but rather because he expected it would produce some change in him. “I want everyone here, nevertheless. It will make clear how much you lose when you don’t have full faith in my plans.”
The boy bowed softly, quickly stepping back from near the wand throne and walking back to comply with the duties assigned to him.
***
Snape looked down at the parchment delivered just under his door. He placed it with considerable strength on his desk, his hand finding his neck, which was still hurting since the end of the war. He had been disarmed and attacked by the bloody snake, all because Voldemort had been greedy about the wand’s obedience. He knew that he never intended on killing him, because well if he did Snape would be dead now. No, he wanted to make a point, to himself and to the wand, about which of them was the most powerful.
The man shook his head, taking another look at the parchment and sighing with distaste. Dinner. If it wasn’t bad enough to live under the same roof as Voldemort, he still had to endure the dinners he hosted to torture and kill. Or to gift, as he liked to call. The Malfoy Mansion was nearly a labyrinth, so many rooms, and too much space, someone could easily get lost inside that place. And when Voldemort decided to make it his home, the obvious unsafety of the place wouldn’t allow the man to live there completely alone. He had to shield himself from anything that tried to strip him of his power. And the threat he knew still existed, even if it felt numb and asleep for now.
So their first gift was the pleasure and the honor to live in the Dark Lord’s headquarters. To live in the court he had created to himself. Where everything was luxurious, but always under his tight control. It was a manner to shield himself from the outside and make sure his closest and most prominent followers were under his claws. That way, he also created a competition with the other Death Eaters, the one excluded from the private club that was formed inside the Manor, and made them crave the acceptance and the support he only seemed to give a few.
The line of thought was brilliant, nothing less than Snape would have expected from Voldemort, but it showed very clearly if you were clever enough to observe, that the Dark Lord still felt insecure about his position. He had all the power, but he was still looking over his shoulder, as he had always had done. Potter was dead, but not even this calmed his mind.
Snape looked at the clock above his bed and sighed, knowing if he didn’t get ready, and presented himself at the living room, Voldemort would get angry. He always craved for punctuality, and for formality. The black-haired man quickly changed into something more proper for the type of dinner that was hosted over the Malfoy Manor, but that didn’t look very different from his everyday clothing. As his hands touched the doorknob, he took a deep breath before opening the door, his lips already pursed in fretfulness.
The living room was already crowded, even if it was still ten minutes before the time indicated on the parchment. He could see Avery, Greyback, and Dolohov anxiously talking with each other, closer to the wand throne than anyone else. They seemed certain they were amongst the ones to be rewarded today, thing Snape highly doubted as Greyback had already gotten his own private party. Draco was standing by Lucius, as usual, and looked nervous and uncomfortable. Narcissa observed them both from a safe distance, her arms crossed in front of her breasts, the short sleeves making sure to show she born no dark mark, unlike the rest of them.
Snape leaned against the wall on the other side of the room, not really seeing himself in the mood for the kind of conversation they were probably having. It was nothing he hadn’t heard the whole week. Lucius was scared to death, Draco was trying to prove himself, Greyback wanted to bite someone or something, Dolohov couldn’t keep his cock inside his pants with the growing desire to rape someone, while Avery just looked forward to the violence, it didn’t matter if he was the responsible to inflict it or just a viewer. Nothing that Snape wasn’t tired of seeing, hearing and growing bored with.
Suddenly, and not surprisingly at the exact time, Voldemort surfaced from one of the side corridors and gave the audience one of his wicked and smiles, that appeared far more often nowadays. Snape tried to keep his expression blank and give his mind another layer of protection, as he regularly did when in the same room as the Dark Lord. Most of the Death Eaters were stupid enough not to penetrate even a single layer of his occlumency, but he was smart enough to respect Voldemort’s intelligence.
“My friends…” the Dark Lord said, opening his arms as if he could welcome them all with the gesture. “We are here to celebrate. Again. Once more. Because the celebration of our victory shouldn’t be stopped, not until everyone that did their part in it is rewarded.” The Dark Lord moved from one side to the other of the room, in front of his throne, but never walking closer to the rest of the people. “And today, like it’s common during our dinners, a few of you will be rewarded…” The wizard could not avoid a small sarcastic laugh before continuing. “And so well rewarded, by your cooperation and your patience…”
Everyone heard a loud noise coming from the main door, where a few of the Death Eaters responsible for the prisoners in Hogwarts came in, pointing their wands at small iron cages, that floated in the air, above everyone’s head. The cages were obviously too small to keep someone inside comfortably, so the prisoners looked quite squeezed inside the metal bars. Snape observed, as each one of the cages crossed the room, and was stacked neatly just by Voldemort’s side.
Girls. Snape flicked his eyes through the metal bars, counting five girls, all of them so dirty and so visibly thin, he couldn’t fully recognize any of them from this distance. He flicked his eyes to the other side of the room, as Narcissa turned her head away from the scene and Dolohov began to lick his own lips. If they had fought for the pleasure to kill a few boys, he only imagined what these death eaters would offer to own one of the girls.
“I decided on an order… a proper order for each one of my rewarded to choose. Based on what, and how much, I expect from you in the future. Based on how faithful you have been even during my downfall. So that order might come as a surprise, but as I said… the celebrations won’t stop until every one of you is… satiated.” With this, he pointed at Draco with his bony fingers, a serious expression on his face as some gossip began in the back of the room. “Draco, you are first…”
The boy stepped forward, a little less uncomfortable than he was earlier, thankful he at least knew what to expect. Voldemort tapped his back softly and showed the small cages as if he were a seller trying to find a buyer for a jewel. “Go on, choose the one you want to have. Any of them. Choose with revenge…” He said, knowing exactly what to expect from Draco. Knowing exactly the one he would choose. Because he had spared her just so the boy could be trained.
It took a long time for Snape to recognize why Draco so suddenly looked extremely timid. The boy’s eyes fell to the floor, and he seemed to swallow hard once or twice before he rose his eyes. The Granger girl. Her brunette hair was everywhere, so dirty and so messy he took a while to recognize her features. But the brave and arrogant look was still there. The fire burning in her eyes, one she had since she was a small child. Snape knew that Draco wasn’t given much choice, even if he was supposed to be the first one to choose after all. Because for anyone that knew even a little bit about the boy, it was clear he could only choose the mudblood girl.
“I will have her.” He finally said, touching the metal bars lightly with his fingers before he rose his eyes to Voldemort’s. Snape didn’t know if Voldemort knew about the slap she had given him during their third year. This was his chance, to practice without staining his hands… because, well, in Voldemort’s reign of terror, mudbloods weren’t even considered people.
Lucius surfaced behind his son, taking his wand from inside his pocket and casting the same spell that brought the cages inside, making the Granger girl float in the air and be guided towards the stairs. Draco’s room. The boy bowed softly at the Dark Lord, giving him a half-nervous smile and thanking him for his generosity. When he disappeared upstairs, the Dark Lord returned his eyes to the audience and smiled again. “If the next generation isn’t well-trained everything we fought for will be in vain. That is why the boy got the first choice.” He said, but the last word sounded a lot like an irony.
“The second rewarded tonight is someone that nearly gave his most precious asset to my cause. His own life. He trusted in me and supported me while the majority of you turned your face away. While you disgusted me with your fear…” He said, spitting the words as if the time still brought him angry memories. “And that is why he is the first tonight to really deserve it. Not my main soldier during the war, but a soldier indeed, don’t you think so, Severus?”
Snape felt his eyebrow-raising as he looked at Dark Lord, a little bit surprised by his choice. He would never think he would be rewarded tonight. He fainted, like a child, at the sight of blood, and didn’t even fight. Didn’t even have time to expose the truth. That he was loyal to Dumbledore, after all. In the end, it was for the best. His pretense continued because now, more than ever, it was the only thing that kept him alive. “But… Sir…” He tried quickly, his hair falling over his eyes as he tried to think of excuses.
“Stop playing dull, Severus. My patience is really thin and I am very hungry.” He said, waving his hand for him to come closer. The former professor got in front of the cages, his eyes not staring at them, but rather at Voldemort, as he considered. He couldn’t… he wouldn’t hurt any of those girls. Why take them? To have someone else to take care of, besides himself? To risk himself even more? “My Lord, I appreciate the gesture but I don’t need it.” He finally said.
The Dark Lord rolled his eyes and pointed the cages again. “You can’t refuse my gifts. This is really improper, Severus. Really improper.” He repeated, visibly growing moody at his refusal. “Stop acting like the proper gentleman you like you like to pretend to yourself you are, and start acting like someone that earned his prize.”
Finally, Snape flicked his eyes back to the cages. Yes, he recognized the two girls in the top of the pile, but he couldn’t even remember their names. They were both brunettes, perhaps even related, but they were so dirty and kept their heads down, so he just turned his eyes away from them. The man looked down at the girls trapped in the bottom of the pile, quickly recognizing one of them. Definitely the sixth year, he remembered how awful that girl was in potions, and how many times she seemed to fail, no matter how many times he explained the procedures over and over again. And then his eyes found the last girl, trapped against the back of the cage, the only one staring him straight in the eye.
And then it hit him.
He was back at the boathouse. The attack had been exceedingly effective. He was bleeding, left behind to his own misery by a very pleased Voldemort. Not dead, but not strong enough to go fight again. He passed out for a while, waking up not fully aware of his surroundings. His sight was turbid, but he could remember her long hair clearly, waving around her waist as she moved quickly from one side to the other, trying to stop the bleeding with nervous hands. Not too long after it, Avery had found her, her soft hands against his neck, and screamed about her killing one of the Death Eaters. The girl fought as the larger man got her by her waist, yelled at him, as Avery looked down at the hurt man. His orders were to find fugitives, not to tend harmed people. That, associated with the fact Snape was indeed great competition to the Dark Lord’s favorite, made him step outside the boathouse leaving Snape to his luck.
The memory was always pushed to the back of his mind as he allowed himself to wonder for a second why she had decided to help. But it quickly returned to its place, knowing the chances she was still alive were petty. He never once tried to consider why she would have done it, why show kindness to someone that had not even once treated her properly, because he didn’t want to mourn the memory of someone else that had died. Someone that tried to help him while he had failed to do the same.
Luna.
His eyes flicked to Avery as he made a noise behind him, looking at his angry eyes, and at that moment he knew that if he didn’t choose her, he would. And her life, at least the end of her life, could not turn out more miserable. “I want her.” He finally said, not giving Voldemort even a second look as he opened the cage. He picked the girl by her upper arm, tight and clearly rough, and pulled her with him towards the crowd, that seemed to quickly divide to let him pass. Avery seemed like he wanted to yell something at Snape, as the dirty blonde hair of the girl waved on her back.