The Toy Potioneer

"Come, Severus."

Snape stepped forward and sank to one knee. The Dark Lord gazed at him appraisingly. "Indeed," he said softly. "As my dear Bellatrix has pointed out to me--I thank you, Bella--you do not look well. What could possibly be troubling you? Look at me!"

Snape met his gaze with ease. "Nothing troubles me, my Lord."

"Do not argue with me, Snape. You do not look well."

"Power is the only sustenance I require, my Lord," he said, smoothly as always, and Bellatrix narrowed her eyes. "I assure you, I have never felt finer."

"Admirable... But do not forget that you are still a man. Men need food, men need sleep. Men need... other things." His eyes shifted briefly to Bellatrix, who drew in her breath sharply. "Find yourself a woman, Severus. I refuse to let my best advisor waste away for want of one."

"Forgive me, my Lord, but I have no time to spend on such a pursuit," Snape replied, bowing his head.

"That is no matter," said the Dark Lord. He turned his head and his eyes fell upon Bellatrix, who was trembling with expectation. "Lord Voldemort shall provide. If there is a woman willing to serve me, she will be granted this opportunity. And if not--"

"There is one willing!" shrieked Bellatrix suddenly, and she leapt from her chair onto the floor next to Snape. "Master, if you desire it... let me be the one to do it."

Snape resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Meanwhile, the Dark Lord watched with obvious enjoyment as Bellatrix prostrated herself on the cold marble. He listened to her beg for several minutes before ordering her to be silent. He rose from his throne and went to her, pulling her to her feet.

"Faithful, loyal Bella," he said, looking down at her rapt face. She was quivering more than ever, and breathing very fast. "So faithful that she would betray me, for Severus Snape."

Looking mortified, Bellatrix stammered, "Master, I would never--only if you asked me to--"

But she gasped and fell quiet when the Dark Lord seized her by the waist and drew her in close.

"Oh, how it would pain me to share my Bella," he murmured into her hair. "After all, you are mine..."

"I am yours," she repeated faintly.

"You are mine, to do with what I wish."

"Whatever you wish..."

She moaned as he ran a long finger down her spine; then he abruptly released her, and she crumbled back to the floor.

"But if anyone is worthy to share you," he said, now walking over to where Snape was kneeling, "it is this one, the Half-Blood Prince. Yes, Bellatrix--I wish you to obey him as you would obey me. He has earned your honour and your respect."

"Yes, Master," Bellatrix breathed. Snape glanced at her out of the corner of his eye before the Dark Lord commanded his attention, lifting his chin and forcing him to meet his eyes.

"You say you need only power, Severus? Very well. Power over her is my gift to you," he said. "She is a prize that you have earned. Enjoy her."

"Of course, my Lord. You are very generous." From behind the Dark Lord's back, Bellatrix shot Snape a malicious grin as she pushed her hair out of her face. Snape looked away.

Of all the Death Eaters, Bellatrix was the only one who seemed to have guessed the truth about his loyalties. Coupled with her slavish devotion to the Dark Lord, her suspicion led her to test Snape relentlessly. To maintain Occlumency while in bed, with her, was a task too daunting to imagine. This was no reward--this was a new and unforeseen obstacle. Though he didn't dare say it, he would have preferred Alecto Carrow as a partner.

"Both of you, sit down," barked the Dark Lord. "Though Dumbledore is finally dead and victory all but guaranteed, there is work yet to be done."

For Snape, work usually consisted of tending to cauldrons of Veritaserum, of which the Dark Lord demanded a constant supply. Another, well-concealed cauldron held an antidote to Veritaserum, which Snape drank daily as a precaution. Occasionally, the Dark Lord requested that Snape surprise him with an "exceptionally nasty" poison--most often when he had grown bored with the Cruciatus Curse. For these, Snape combed through obscure potions books and ancient texts of the Dark Arts; and he never failed to find one that amused his Master.

Tonight, however, a simple Draught of Peace simmered alongside the usual concoctions. He took care to dilute it, so he would not relax too much and let down his guard.

'In fact,' he thought as he stirred, 'perhaps a bit of Wit-Sharpening Potion wouldn't be amiss.'

By the time he left his office, he had drunk not only the Draught of Peace and the Wit-Sharpening Potion, but also an Alertness Potion and a good deal of wine, capped off by a Sobering Solution. He considered taking an Invigoration Draught and a Tranquillity Tonic as well, but he remembered that they tended to cause nasty side effects when mixed with the others; so these he bottled and hid for future use.

The array of potions, in addition to preparing his fraught and weary mind for the task ahead of him, took time to brew, thus delaying the moment when he would have to face the hateful Bellatrix in his bedroom. Snape revelled in this added bonus, sipping his wine as he tended to the row of bubbling cauldrons.

When he could stall no more, he set off through the long hallways of the Dark Lord's lair, mind and body buzzing with the potions' magic. Feeling as ready as ever he could be, he inhaled, unlocked his chamber door, and entered.