A Cloud Before the Moon

Chapter 8

The next day was dull, gray and very wet, a perfect day to spend holed up in the dungeon with a new potion brewing in the cauldron. Anyway, Severus supposed, Letha would be spending the day indoors as well. He had decided he would make another foray into his father's study, to retrieve the Sheepshanks book he had told her about. He headed over to the secret passageway and began crawling towards the study. Gingerly, he touched the door, and it opened a crack.

There was a light on, and he saw a woman standing in the middle of the room. He had never seen a woman with such a voluptuous figure, nor one so scantily dressed. The woman's full round breasts were barely concealed with a gauzy material that hid very little, and below her smooth white belly, a tiny piece of cloth provided the most minimal coverage, so that the observer had a clear unobstructed view of her long shapely legs. He was grateful that he wore long, loose robes; he would have been mortified if anyone were to see the effect she was having on him. He turned to go, but the woman beckoned him in with a wave of her hand. Then he heard his father's voice. "Come in, Severus," he commanded.

The boy walked into the room hesitantly. His father was standing in front of the woman, with his robe off, clad only in a long open shirt. The boy's uneasiness grew, but the woman stepped right in front of him. "Do you like what you see?" she asked. He nodded uncomfortably. His breathing was fast and shallow. His nostrils quivered and he felt a bit dizzy. She leaned towards him and jiggled slightly, then turned towards Balthazar, who smirked and nodded at her. Turning her attention back to the son, she smiled at him. "Go on," she urged him. "I won't bite you."

Severus simply stood motionless, in mute embarrassment. Impatiently, his father grabbed his wrist with his large hand, and placed it directly on the woman's breast. He brushed his fingers across the smooth, enticing mound, tentatively running a fingertip across the hard nipple. His father reached out and grasped the other breast in his own hand, lowering his mouth to it. With a rush of overwhelming desire and revulsion at the same time, Severus ejaculated and threw up at the same time. The woman shrieked and jumped back as vomit trickled down her chest and his father's face. The back of a meaty hand slammed into his nose, and his father screamed at him in a rage. "Get out of here, you idiot!"

In wide-eyed horror, Severus went flying out of the study, and ran to the refuge of the dungeon. He stood in the dark, burning cheek against the cold, damp wall, feeling waves of self-disgust and humiliation course through him. He remained all that night in the dungeon, not even coming up for food. He slept there, best as he could, curled up in a dark corner. He spent another two days there as well, barely moving from the corner.

Two days of unrelenting misery passed, and he had not dared to show his face. Two days, and no one had even bothered to check if he was all right. Not that he really cared, he told himself, but in truth, he would not have been terribly put out if someone had just given a holler, "Are you alive, down there?"

On the third day, he finally heard a timid knock on the dungeon door. "Master Severus, there be's a young lady to see you, what says she's your friend." The hesitant manner in which Fippy uttered the word friend made it clear that she considered the possibility questionable at best.

For the first time in days, Severus felt a bit less miserable. Letha must be wondering what had happened to him. Maybe she missed him. Perhaps she was even worried about him? Then he heard Narcissa's voice. "There's a girl here to see you, thtupid. You'd better come up here, before she comes to her senses!"

He was even willing to ignore his cousin's nastiness. Fancy that, he thought, she wants to see me! He proceeded to rise from his dark corner, and then slid down again. No. He wasn't going to move. What he'd done was shameful, and he wasn't fit to be in her presence. But then again, he didn't want to hurt her feelings. Hesitantly, he decided he would have to face her.

Severus slowly stood up again, stretching his stiff legs. He took off his filthy robe and shook it out, coughing at the cloud of dust that it sent up. He tossed the robe back on and began to ascend the stairs. Half way up, he heard his father's voice and froze. "Please come in, young lady. I had no idea my son had such a lovely friend."

Severus' heart sunk. He stood where he was and listened. "Come into the sitting room with me, my dear. Narcissa, could you please bring our guest a cold drink?"

Narcissa whined, "But Uncle...."

"Now, Narcissa, let's be polite," Balthazar said, with a hint of sharpness in his voice. Severus heard his cousin go stomping off, and resumed climbing the stairs. He peeked into the room. His father was openly ogling the girl, and Letha stood against the wall, with her arms wrapped around her chest. For a moment, he pictured himself coming to her rescue, sweeping her up in his arms and carrying her out of the lecherous reach of his father. His shoulders sank. After three days without eating, he could barely carry himself, and he dared not use magic against his father. No doubt, the miserable bastard would report him for underage use of magic, and he could be expelled from Hogwarts, or as he thought of it, 'Warts-and-all'. As in - warts and all, it was still better than being home. There was only one other solution he could think of. It was a terrible solution, but it was the only one he had at that moment. He fixed his features in the most icy, forbidding glower he could muster. When he walked into the room, Severus stared at Letha with cold, expressionless eyes and a sneer on his lips. "I don't recall inviting you," he hissed at her.

Letha stared at him in stupefaction, and Balthazar turned to face his son with an ugly expression. "What kind of manners do you have? Your friend was telling me she was worried that you were ill. She was concerned about you. If you don't care to see her, you can leave. We are having a charming conversation." He turned his attention back to Letha, a forced smile on his lips.

It seemed to Severus that he leered at Letha with the same rapacious expression he had fixed on the woman in his study. He could not bear that this despicable man should look at her that way, should think of her that way. He momentarily closed his eyes, imagining himself pointing his wand at his father, shouting "Avada Kedavara!" In his mind, he saw the man lying lifeless on the ground. He knew what he had to do. He opened his eyes again and fixed them coldly on Letha. "I do not think so. It is this - this Mudblood-lover who should leave. I suggest you get out of this house and do not return." Then he snarled, "In the future, you will stay away from me, will you not?"

Letha stared at him with her mouth agape. Her eyes blinked away the tears that she could not restrain. He could not bear to see her looking at him with such an expression of betrayal, and focused all his thoughts on Balthazar. It was so much easier to hate, and all the hatred of his young lifetime came pouring through the floodgates of his mind. "Crucio!" he thought. "Crucio! May you suffer pain so unbearable that you would beg for death. And may death be slow and agonizing, and bring you no release!" He turned towards Letha, and she gasped at his unmistakable expression of utter loathing. Severus strove to maintain a delicate balance, banishing all trace of expression from his eyes as he resumed an icy glare at the girl.

Letha averted her eyes from his and looked at Balthazar. In a thick, stilted voice, she thanked him for his hospitality. "Perhaps I ought to leave now," she managed to say. The man offered her a broad, frozen smile, while his eyes darted towards his son menacingly. "I must apologize for my son's inexcusable behavior. It has been a pleasure; I hope you will stop by again."

"Thank you, Sir. I will," she said unconvincingly. The house-elf came in to escort her to the door. As soon as they left the room, Balthazar reached out his arm to grab his son, but the boy sprinted off, his robe sprinkling dust and cobwebs as he ran. He flew down the stairs, sat back down in the corner, and buried his face in his arms, feeling utterly miserable.