The Toy Potioneer

Bellatrix had already invited herself in. Wearing nothing but an impatient scowl, she was lounging on Snape's bed. She lay on her side, propping up her head with one hand and playing absentmindedly with her necklace with the other. She had pulled the black sheets carelessly over her hips, as though she had merely been cold, and lit the candles in the chandelier.

"Well, Bellatrix--why don't you make yourself at home?" said Snape, irritated. He snapped his fingers and the door shut and locked behind him. Bellatrix regarded him coldly as he strode across the room.

"How was I to know you'd be late?" she retorted. "How fortunate for me that the Dark Lord has graced you with such a luxurious chamber, in which I could wait."

Snape said nothing, but sat on the edge of the bed and began to remove his boots.

"Well, where were you?" Bellatrix pressed on. "You were due nearly two hours ago!"

"I am due whenever I care to arrive, is that understood?" he said with a glare. "Do not forget who gives the orders here."

"My, my," she breathed. "Power has gone to your head, Snape! And yet--you are ever the gentleman." Snape had retrieved a pair of wineglasses and a dusty bottle. "Before you open that--skip the pleasantries, Snape, we both know why I'm here!"

"Indeed. Unofficially, you are here to force a revelation of my supposed treachery," he answered dryly, "so I may as well lower my inhibitions, don't you agree?"

"No--I mean, I agree, but--that is not why I am here!" she snapped, and lifted her glass to her lips. "You're no fun at all, Snape."

"Take care not to insult me too many times before we have our--ah--'fun.'"

At this she shifted herself to lean towards him, her free hand now dangling carelessly between his legs. He stirred as she stroked the crotch of his trousers, so lightly it was almost accidental. But more and more boldly those fingers moved...

"I neither trust nor like you, Snape," she whispered. "Insults are inevitable; so let us begin."

Snape stood abruptly, and Bellatrix, eyebrows raised, reclined again.

"You seem none too eager. Not too keen on the Dark Lord's orders, are you?" she sneered.

"On the contrary, I seek to follow them to the letter. He was quite clear that I am to enjoy you, and that you are to submit to me. So, we shall begin on my own terms."

Businesslike, he unbuttoned his robes and removed them.

"Good Lord, Snape! I was right, wasn't I-- You're practically emaciated!" Bellatrix said, sounding delighted. "What's the matter? Have you got a secret? A worry, perhaps, eating away at you so that you've lost your own appetite"

With a snarl, Snape drew his wand and leapt back onto the bed. Bellatrix held her breath as he pinned her legs to the sheets with his knees, wand at her throat.

"I've had enough of your insolence," he hissed. "Your accusations are founded on jealousy alone. I will make you regret the trouble you cause me!"

He leaned over her so that between the black curtains of his hair, the silver chain around his neck dangled in front of her. She stared, mesmerised, at the argent Dark Mark that swung before her eyes. Snape laughed harshly at her expression.

"What, does it look familiar?" he taunted. "The Dark Lord himself wore this, until he gave it to me the night I killed Albus Dumbledore."

He gave the wand a final jab at her throat before tracing it slowly down her body.

"I wonder, Bellatrix," he whispered, circling each of her nipples with the wand, "what more proof you require that my loyalties lie exactly where they should?"

She made no reply, but only shuddered as the wand trailed lightly down her stomach, rising and falling with her rapid breaths. In its wake was a line of shimmering green, glowing softly, its magic continuing to touch her there.

"Well?" he said. "What can I do to restore my esteem in your eyes? Come now, Bellatrix, enlighten me--I care ever so much what you think of me."

She moaned as Snape drew the wand lower and lower, tracing tiny circles between her legs.

"You may be his Prince--" she managed to gasp, "but I am his Queen!"

Frowning, Snape bent forward to look more closely at her necklace. It was a delicate silver serpent, curled into the shape of an S and set with miniscule emeralds.

"Is that what he told you? Very impressive," he said. "And yet he saw fit to place you under my power."

He continued to direct the wand until her moans turned into soft screams and she strained against his weight; abruptly he pulled the wand away, leaving only the fading traces of the magic it had been working there. Snape slid deftly off the bed and reached for his glass and the bottle of wine.

"No--no--" Bellatrix was whimpering. "Damn you, Snape, get back here--"

"Tut, tut," he said with amusement. "That's no way to ask your superior for a favour."

"Snape--Severus--please, I beg you..."

"Let me see... no."

"Damn you, Snape!" she said again through gritted teeth.

As Bellatrix lay panting and cursing under her breath, Snape stood beside the bed and poured himself another glass of wine. Sipping compulsively, he fixed his eyes on the slender amulet that rested, glittering, between her breasts.

But abruptly he dropped his glass; it shattered on the marble floor and its contents splashed over Bellatrix's gleaming hair as her mouth closed over him. Snape grabbed the mahogany bedpost for support as she worked her magic.

Half enraged, half in heaven, he staggered backwards; but Bellatrix was not discouraged. She climbed smoothly out of the bed and sank to her knees, tearing her skin on the shards of glass. She knocked Snape's hands away when he tried to push her back; seconds later, however, he managed to seize his wand from the desk. With a bang, Bellatrix was thrown back onto the bed.

She jumped right back up, indignant.

"What's the matter with you, Snape? Wishing you were with Dumbledore instead?" she sneered.

"Wishing you knew your place, actually. Such insubordination--no wonder you receive the Cruciatus Curse more than anyone else."

"How dare you! I chose my life, and proudly. I traded my freedom for his power... and I wouldn't have it any other way."

"What do you mean, you traded your freedom? Didn't we all?"

"Not like I did," she said. She reclined against the headboard and continued, "When I was young--when I had just left Hogwarts--the Dark Lord picked me out from the rest of his followers. He said that he had been watching me for months, and I had impressed him. Then he asked me what I would do to win his favour. I told him the truth, that I would do anything. He offered me the chance of a lifetime: to become his 'beloved Bella,' his favourite, if he could... shorten my leash, so to speak."

"That's putting it lightly."

"Well, that leash grew shorter and shorter, sometimes even without my knowledge. This necklace, for instance..." She paused and smiled to herself as she dredged up the memory. "It was a reward from the Dark Lord, when I led the faithful Death Eaters out of Azkaban and returned to him. It was months later when I realised that it was enchanted. As long as I wore it, he would know where I was and what I was doing, whom I was with and what I was saying. What a delicious surprise that was..." she trailed off wistfully, her eyes glittering as much as the necklace itself.

She was watching him closely. Snape turned quickly away from her, lest she see the fear on his face. Suddenly, he was acutely aware of the cold silver weight on his chest, the strangely mesmeric pendant that, like hers, had been a gift from the Dark Lord.

'A gift,' he thought. 'A gift like Bellatrix.'