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not my property. They are the property of J.K. Rowling, Warner
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Title: As Sharp As Sunlight
Categories: Angst, Darkfic, Non-con, Hurt/Comfort
Pairings: Sirius/Remus, Sirius/Snape, Lucius/Harry, Draco/Hermione
Summary: A squicky fate awaits our heroes after their defeat. Can
anything be salvaged?
Author's notes: This fic is part of the "Beloved Enemies" Harry/Lucius
Fuh-Q-Fest (http://groups.yahoo.com/group/HarryxLucius/), Second Wave.
Sirius Black decided he wanted to tell this story and I had to let him.
Answers Challenge # 141.Voldi has won the war. Harry, Sirius,
Remus (any other good guys you want) got captured. Instead of
killing them Voldi turns them
into hermaphrodites, binds their power (slave bracelets anyone?)and
gives them to his loyal followers (Lucius, Severus) as sex slaves,
concubines, what ever, to give birth to more wizards. (Edges)
Warning for MPREG, if you hadn't caught that. And character death.
Yes, I am very fond of the movie adaptation of The Handmaid's Tale.
Thanks to Edges-- I love this kinda thing but would have been
embarrassed to come up with it on my own!
Thanks to beta tester Sobriquet, who did a very thorough job (and
helped me get rid of the ellipsis plague that was infesting this one).
Other mistakes are mine.
And no thanks to Sirius Black-- I thought this was gonna be lurid and
bordering on PWP! Instead he insisted there be a story. Grrr.
He's only sixteen.
I want to wrap my arms around him and tell him I'll protect him. More
usefully, I want to shove him behind me and tell them to leave him
alone, do anything they want to me instead.
Given that they're going to do it to me as well, that's not going to be
He'd tell me he's not a child to be protected. Knowing Harry, he'd try
to be the one making the same stand, for me.
We're like that.
Of course, it isn't only my godson that inspires that protectiveness in
me. I want to do the same thing for Remus. And he's no sixteen-year-old.
But he's mine, to want to protect as well.
He'd be the next one to join the shoving-behind-and-begging brigade.
It'd be utter slapstick under the right circumstances.
Right now none of us are in any shape to be wrestling over the right to
sacrifice himself for the others.
Harry sits pressed against my side, not moving. Our various bruises
hurt less if we don't move.
Remus is not far away, leaning against the wall. He knows I want to be
pressed to him, but he's trying to be strong in this, giving Harry the
of taking comfort from me. Trying to be one of the adults.
I don't feel like an adult. I feel about as lost as I've ever felt. And
I spent twelve years in bloody Azkaban.
And I want to be holding Remy as well. But for Harry's sake I try to
show him that Remus and I can be the strong ones here, and he can break
if he chooses.
I'm still not sure I can believe what they're telling us.
The door to the cell opens. But it's not someone bringing a meal. The
four of them are all tricked out, robes and masks in place, wands in
hand. Doesn't bode well.
The one in front gestures Come.
Even though there are only four of them, we've found out what happens
if we try to resist. All three of us get to our feet and go with the
I want to hold Remus's hand.
Maybe I will.
When we are shown into what Voldemort calls his hall (I still call it
his lair), I look at how the number of Death Eaters has swelled since
the last time we were here, just days ago, and have to suppress the
urge to swallow.
Next to me I hear Harry's breath catch. He's looking-- there, near the
center of the room, same place they're pushing us, my God: it's
Harry doesn't quite run to her, doesn't quite hug her; he looks into
face and clutches her shoulders and she does the same thing to him.
I'm amazed she's still alive. Harry had guessed she would have been
killed along with Ron Weasley.
I gently put an arm around her waist for reassurance. Great. Now there
are two sixteen-year-olds I have to be strong for.
Remy, I want to hold you. Want to crush you in my arms until you make
that little gasping noise that I adore, that they took from me in
they took every other good memory that I ever had, that I got back,
in these past two years.
Want to kiss you in front of all of these fucking psychos, wet sloppy
kiss in a show of defiance like we're flipping them off. Take a hold of
hair and your face and your cock like I'm going to have you right here
don't give a shit who sees.
Are they ever going to let us be together again?
The masks don't really fuck with my head in the way they used to. I
know now they aren't there so much to intimidate, as to provide
anonymity. Make it easier for each one of them to kill, if they're
called to. That's not
exactly reassuring. But I'm no longer scared of the masks themselves.
We're alone in the center of the room.
"And this is all that survived."
Voldemort's voice is a little siblant on the S's.
I should taunt him for having a lisp. But I don't need to make this
worse. It isn't just my life on the line.
He can't really intend... what they said.
"Yes, very resilient stock indeed."
No. Oh, no. He wouldn't choose those words unless...
"Muggles are for killing, my little pets. All they're good for. But
wizards... Wizards who are my enemies can be made to serve. They can be
He looks at one of the Death Eaters in a way that tells me it must be
He looks at another, and I see that one's hands clench slightly. Maybe
I'm wrong; is that one Peter? No, too tall.
"Or, failing that, simply used."
And he's looking at us again. Neither Harry nor Hermione move, nor make
a sound. Good kids.
"It would be a shame not to use such excellent flesh to insure my ranks
"You can kill me now," says Hermione, her voice gritty. "I'm never
going to join you."
They didn't tell her. She doesn't know what he means.
"Used, foolish child. I agree, it is too late for you." He
smiled. "But I am curious to see what will happen with your offspring."
I hear her breath catch.
As unnatural as this is going to me for me-- and Harry and Remus-- I
can't help but think it might still be worse for her. To be reduced to
her breeding capabilities... it seems like the sort of thing every
woman must fight against all her life.
Hermione turns her head to look at the three of us.
Doing the math.
She doesn't know what we know.
"Not her," I hear Harry say.
Ah. We're at this point at last.
Remy, forgive me.
"Don't do this to the two youngest," I say. "Remus and I will swear to
submit to you without resistance. If you spare the other two." I don't
at Remus when I say this. I can't bear to.
Harry inhales-- Hermione too-- about to protest.
"Actually," says Voldemort, "there is one thing."
That stops me.
He looks toward the Death Eater he called turned. "Which is the
werewolf again?" He sounds like he can't be bothered to keep us
That one lifts his hand and points at Remus. "That one," he says, and
even from behind the mask, the voice confirms that it's Peter. Oh, that
still alive. If I could only transform...
What does he want with him?
I can see all four of us protesting No, I am in an attempt to
confuse. But what good would it do? Pettigrew knows.
And maybe... just maybe Voldemort plans to spare Remy.
He gestures. "Come here."
Remus gently takes my hand off of his arm-- when did I grab it? I don't
even remember-- and steps forward, gestured closer until he's only a
away from Voldemort.
Voldemort lifts his hand. There's something in it.
The explosion of the gun deafens me. Remus's blood splatters me.
I don't have to be told it was a silver bullet. Remus is dead before he
hits the floor, the back of him covered in blood by the close range of
No last words. No last look in his eyes for me as I pull his body up to
a sitting position, getting more of his blood all over myself.
Is that me, screaming like that? It sounds so distant.
I think they hit me with a spell.
I'm in different clothing. I'm clean, and my hair's damp. No trace of
Remus's blood is left.
And they're pushing a cup in front of me.
Harry's next to me. I don't know where they took Hermione.
Another cup, full of the same liquid, is in front of Harry.
Voldemort says, "Each of you is hostage for the other. If you refuse to
drink, if you resist what happens, the other will be punished for it.
Punished until you comply. If we kill one of you accidently in the
process, that will be unfortunate, but not a problem. This is an
interesting experiment, but not a necessity."
I hear this because I have to hear it.
Harry's still alive.
I pick up the cup and drain it. It tastes dead. But anything would
I hear Harry inhale as I drink. I guess he can't believe I gave in that
No. No point in resisting now.
Let them do what they want.
Harry takes a hold of the cup.
I almost reach out to dash it out of his hand. But one thing stops me.
I don't know what they've done with Hermione.
The potion is already starting to take effect; I feel an alien tingle
in my skin, even as I tell Harry, "You don't have to. They can
accidently kill me all they want."
He shakes his head. "I won't let you go through this alone."
I'm so absurdly proud of the kid. I may start to cry.
It's not for Remus. I won't be able to cry for Remy for a long time.
For Hermione's sake, not for mine, I let him drink.
Once the change is complete, there are tests. And still more potions.
And a few spells, on top of that.
One of the potions has a purpose so intricate it pulls my brain out of
its numb state to think about it: it somehow guarantees we can't
sperm, yet still retain the fertility of the female organs that we've
At first I think it might be because they don't want self-conception to
occur, but later I learn that can't happen anyway to a
The two will cancel each other out. No, I think they do it because they
want interbreeding to occur between the three of us. Easier than making
we're kept apart all the time until we're all pregnant.
Who has the skill to make something that complicated?
He's here. He has to be here. I know he isn't the only one capable of
creating potions but I feel it.
You can barely notice the changes, really.
Nothing seems different on the inside; though I think the shape of my
hipbones might have changed a little. Clothing fits a little
And you don't really notice the outside changes unless you want to.
Easy to ignore, to forget the few folds of skin just behind the
passage they cover. Except for the way it feels constantly damp, like
There aren't many moments for privacy, so the opportunity to explore it
But at night, I do. I cup my balls with one hand and pull them forward,
out of the way, while I push a finger inside. It hurts a little, not in
a way that is particularly painful but in a way that seems prohibitive.
Touching the folds of skin doesn't hurt at all, though. It doesn't
quite feel exciting, but more comforting. Like having a wank to put
yourself to sleep. But I can see how under other circumstances it would
Other circumstances. Ha.
I stop that too, not wanting to wake up Harry. Though for all I know,
he's probably doing the same thing.
I think about how Remus would not want me to be numb.
I won't risk them harming either Harry or Hermione. But I won't be
completely passive either.
"So who do we get to fuck, then?" I sneer when the tests and the
potions and the spells seem to have run their course, and Harry and I
are confronting them again. "I hope mine's cute, that's all I can say.
Not just for fucking, of course. I just don't think I could stand being
the mother of an ugly
Voldemort smiles. "How charming."
I smile wider. Harry looks at his feet but I think he might be trying
to stifle a laugh. I hope so. It'll have been worth it just for that,
Voldemort turns and speaks to the six Death Eaters behind him. "You
have the option to remain masked, you know. I can have them restrained.
Blindfolded. If you choose."
Before I have the chance to feel panic again-- six of them,
god, no-- the two in front shake their heads slightly. Neither looked
at each other
before doing so; this is not the first time this has been discussed.
Voldemort shrugs. "Very well."
One steps forward, and unmasks.
Yeah, I recognize him. Haven't seen much of him since our Hogwarts
years, but he's unmistakable. Lucius Malfoy.
He looks toward Harry.
It hits me like a physical punch. "Don't," I say stupidly. After all
this, do I think they will stop for anything? What can I promise them?
But the idea of Lucius Malfoy fucking my godson, let alone to get him
pregnant, is almost enough to make me go to my knees and beg.
And if I thought there was any chance in hell that they'd listen to me,
I'd do it.
Harry takes a step back. "Malfoy..." he says, his voice cracking.
Oh, god, Harry, don't break down. I'll fight. I swear, I'll fight them
all, even magic-inhibited as I am, as we both are, and then they'll
me, and I don't care, but they'll hurt you worse.
He doesn't break down. He looks like he's going to fall down any
minute, but he doesn't.
Lucius steps closer to him. I can see Harry trying to stand his ground.
Lucius looks toward Voldemort, who nods once. Then Lucius starts to
reach a hand towards Harry, stops, and gestures instead. He takes a
step towards the open door, his eyes still on Harry's, and Harry makes
himself take a
similar step. It looks like a mouse transfixed by a cobra, for all that
godson is stronger than even I have imagined.
He tears his gaze away to look at me. "It's okay, Siri," he says,
and I feel my heart constrict all over again.
He follows Lucius out the door, and two of the masked Death Eaters
follow. To... stand guard, I hope. I hope that is all.
I try to summon back that cockiness to face Voldemort. "Got them a
honeymoon suite, did you? How generous."
The second of those two Death Eaters doesn't step forward. He removes
his mask where he stands.
Goddammit, I knew he was here.
The room has a bed and that's all. No windows either.
I wish I could see a window. I haven't seen daylight since our capture.
"So. Peter didn't want me? I'm crushed."
Severus grimaces and looks away.
And then does something that surprises me. He answers.
"Voldemort did not make the offer to Pettigrew. He's pleased with
Wormtail's loyalty, but doesn't think he quite deserves a part in this
kind of experiment."
"And you do?" It's a petty little dig. Severus is brilliant.
Another grimace. "It's a loyalty test. I know that."
I can believe that. Snape always walked the line, trying to figure out
which would be the winning side.
"Well, don't worry," I say. "I won't make it difficult for you. You
won't get any begging for mercy from me, Severus. You can have
your wicked way with me all you want."
I step over to the bed and set one knee on it, still facing him, in a
mockery of invitation. "Answer one question for me, though: who got
Severus doesn't move. Then: "Draco Malfoy."
"Voldemort must have a high opinion of Malfoy blood." I come up with
another sneer. "Looks like you got in just under the wire."
He doesn't say anything. "Where's she being kept, then?" I ask.
"Separately," he says, answering but not particularly helpful. "Draco
didn't like the idea of the three of you being kept together. Even if
she couldn't conceive by you, he didn't want his... partner... sleeping
with anyone else."
I snicker. "You're not a very good villain, are you, Severus? Partner.
A good villain would have said something like prize, or spoils.
Or maybe gone all out and said concubine. How about breeding
cow? That one's good."
He doesn't respond to that either. He won't rise to my gibes, but he'll
answer questions. I should use that.
"Will we get to see her?"
"I would think so. She didn't need to be with you during the
preparation you went through, since she only required one test, to see
if she had any fertility problems. She didn't."
"And we appear to have passed with flying colors, haven't we?" Hard not
to dig at him. Focus on questions. "You put those potions together, I
"Did you know beforehand who they were for?"
He hesitates, then nods again.
"Did you make two or three doses?" I can't help it. It's said with all
the venom I feel.
He doesn't answer at first. Then he says, tightly, "I had no say in the
decision to murder Remus Lupin."
I expected him to say I had no part in it. Which would have been
lying, as the son of a bitch made no attempt to stop it, did he?
But he used the word murder. Whether that was for my benefit I
I think about Remy all the time. He is my reason for wanting to die; he
is my reason for making myself defy, and sneer, and taunt. And live. In
a way just a little different from the way Harry and Hermione are
making me stay alive.
Living and staying alive aren't the same thing. Believe me, I've known
that for a very long time.
But trying to talk about Remus with Severus makes me very, very tired.
"Can we get this over with," I say, and my voice isn't angry, or
He looks at me, nods slowly. I suddenly notice that we've had the same
arms-tightly-folded pose since we came into the room together.
I think this would be easier for me if he were playing the
villain role. But he obviously finds that distateful.
I wonder if he's doing this because he has to, or because he actually
wants to. If it were the latter he'd hide it. He wouldn't want me to
I don't look at him as I pull off the shirt and trousers that I'm
wearing. That are all that I'm wearing.
But as I sit down on the edge of the bed, I do watch him as he gets
undressed. I don't see any reason why I should make things easier for
him during this.
He doesn't have the physique I do, but then, I worked on it. And he's
paler than I'll ever be, even with an equal lack of sun.
"How do we do this, then?" I say, not minding that the sarcasm is
coming back. I don't have any more questions that I really want answers
He shows me.
That surprises me.
I still expected him to be answering my sarcasm with his own. Or at
least to become impatient with it. Why is he not?
Instead, he sits down next to me, puts a hand on my shoulder, and--
before I can stop him-- kisses, not my mouth--I think he knows I
wouldn't sit there for that, not even under threat-- but the side of my
face, back by the hairline.
What the hell is that?
...Maybe he does want to do this after all. Oh, god.
I could shove him away, demand what he means by kissing me like that.
By kissing me at all. This is Severus fucking Snape, after all, and I
perfectly well that he always hated me, and that the feeling was mutual.
But that hand on my shoulder is starting to push me back, and if I stop
him now... well, he's doing what I asked, isn't he? Getting it over
No, I'm not going to think of him now. Not with Severus leaning over
me, his hands on my chest now, and one of them moving to my waist.
Is he going to touch my cock? I don't want him to. He doesn't fucking
need to, for this.
He separates my knees with one hand, slowly. I try to cooperate, but
it's not easy.
His other hand is at my neck, stroking. Why? It seems to be a purpose
When that hand moves from my neck down to my chest again, I realize
that that is the purpose. Just... stroking. Trying to get me to respond
to his touch. "Don't," I say, involuntarily, as soon as I realize that.
I'm immediately upset that I let him know that disturbs me.
His mouth is near my ear: "I don't expect you to feel anything but hate
for me, Black, but I am not interested in hurting you any more than
necessary. Believe it or not, as you wish. I am not trying to humiliate
you; I am only trying to make the physical process easier."
The hand on my chest is definitely getting a reaction from me, which is
unsettling. Remy used to tease my nipples with his tongue for what
seemed like hours, waiting until I was begging for it, beyond hard.
In fact I'm starting to get hard now. And... and that's not all. I can
feel something tightening, beneath my cock, all the way down to the
opening behind my balls. It's completely foreign and for a moment my
But after a moment curiosity overcomes the oddness of it, and I have to
admit the feeling isn't at all unpleasant. I contract the muscles there
in response, as if trying to grasp something, and the feeling
intensifies. My cock's rising again.
The hand that was between my knees is touching my balls, lifting the
sac out of the way to stroke the folds of the vulva behind it. Suddenly
sensation isn't at all comforting; it's electric. I get the feeling
would be better if the stroking was directed a little more to the front.
Yes, I slept with girls as well as boys, in school. I wasn't
particularly accomplished but I had the theory explained to me. That
doesn't mean I'm
at all prepared for being able to actually feel this.
The fingers-- I have an easier time of this if I don't think of them as
Severus's fingers-- the fingers do move more toward the front, grazing
over what has to be my clitoris, and suddenly my thought that I didn't
want Severus touching my cock is completely abandoned; the sensation of
having that little spot stroked is so keyed into the same feelings I
have when my cock's touched that I suddenly can't stand to have it
ignored. How the hell can something that small feel that good?
I curve my own hand around my cock, not caring. "God...!"
Severus is blessedly silent. I can't imagine a word he could say right
now that would not make me cringe to remember it, later. He keeps
those folds, that spot, and his other hand comes to join mine on my
Thank god he doesn't try to kiss me again, or put his mouth anywhere
else on my body. I couldn't stand remembering that either.
There is a hazy length of time where Severus continues his attentions
on both sets of my genitals and I almost forget everything except what
feeling, until I find myself using those unfamiliar muscles to pull at
finger he's sliding into me, into something that feels nothing like the
sensation of having my arse entered in that way, something that's moist
slick like no other part of my body has ever been, and yet hungry in
same way that my cock is. Again, I can't let myself think about it or I
try to push him away, and I can't risk that. And right now don't want
And then he's moving from my side to move his body over mine, and I
can't help it, all I can think of is Remus, but Remus would be pushing
my knees back if he were going to top me in this position, and Severus
isn't, he's just pushing my thighs further apart, and the head of his
cock is suddenly pushing against the part of my body that I didn't have
a few days ago, and still it opens to let him in, nothing, nothing at
all like sex with Remy, almost obscene in how easy it is this way, I
can hardly stand it.
There's a moment of pain when he pushes inside, but it's over so fast,
again, nothing at all like anal penetration, which is never that easily
over and done with, that I'm absurdly on the verge of saying, "Is that it?"--
which would mean I'd never be forgiven by any females of my aquaintance
if they found out, ever-- and I'm being fucked to my depths in a
I never thought I could be had in.
God help me, it still feels good. My cock is trapped between us, and
that in itself doesn't feel so different-- the friction is bringing me
closer, and I start to wonder where I'm going to feel it when I
One of Severus's hands is on my arse, the other on my shoulder again.
Remy used to like to cup his hands at the small of my back...
...No. I'm not going to think of him like that, not while this is
happening. If I have to think about him, I'm going to remember the full
moon, the times I chased him down under it, hound and wolf, animal
senses knowing the scents were not quite right, but the human
underneath overcoming that instinct,
both of us howling that territorial sound that meant You are mine,
yet never meaning a challenge, as it would have been if we'd truly been
Before the memory can tear me apart, it brings a surge of arousal, and
that's all I need, between that and the feeling of Severus fucking me
my cock being pressed with each thrust of Severus's hips. And it's not
question of where I feel the orgasm; I feel it everywhere. My cock
my vagina tightens, my clitoris suddenly becomes one with both of these
other sites of sensation, and everything is shortly so achingly
I can barely stand it as Severus continues to thrust until he reaches
I feel him come inside me, a wet trickle that joins the rest of the
wetness within me. He shudders, does not collapse on top of me, no. He
waits until the shuddering has subsided, pulls himself out, rolls to
his back next to me, breathing hard.
I wonder if it was worse this way, or if it would have been worse if
he'd fucked me like a man.
Not to say that he still won't. I'm sure he has permission to do
whatever he wants with me, as long as I'm not damaged.
Or at least healable.
It's a while before either of us speaks. I don't have anything to say
and I'm determined to keep looking at the ceiling, so it's Severus who
"When we leave here," he says, voice neutral, "you'll be taken back to
the cell. Instructions have been given to make it more comfortable,
they will do what they can to leave you with very little that could be
weapon. The guards at the door also have orders to listen to any
requests you have of them, regarding things like temperature, food,
sort of thing."
"Whose generosity do we have to thank for that?"
He doesn't answer. Suddenly I realize that it isn't because he's
ignoring my question as a gibe.
"You arranged that, didn't you?"
He still doesn't answer.
"You're the closest thing they have to a mediwizard, aren't you? You're
the one making all the pregnancy decisions."
At last he says, "They'll have a mediwizard. When one becomes
"Yeah, but until then, you're it, aren't you? If I start craving ginger
ice cream, you gonna get it for me?"
I don't know why I picked that. Remus was the one who liked ginger ice
"Actually," says Severus, "ginger's a treatment for nausea.
Particularly in pregnancy."
He knows about this stuff. I was right.
"You don’t have a potion for morning sickness?"
"There are," and now he's lost that neutral, almost apologetic tone
he's had the entire time he's been in the room with me, and sounds more
his surly self, "numerous potions to induce fertility, multiple spells
enhance it, and even dozens of good-luck charms aimed directly at
or selecting gender or everything down to eye color, but as far as
means that are actually used during pregnancy..." I sense him shake his
"Not so many of those. Few are willing to make such tests on a pregnant
and their unborn offspring."
Does he mean... shit. "Is that part of what's intended for us?"
He sits up suddenly, looks down at me. "No, Black. Voldemort wants
children of your blood. Not fodder for gestational experimentation."
"Don't say that like I'm scared of the idea," I say coldly. "I don't
particularly care what happens to me any longer."
He shakes his head. "No. I don't suppose you do."
He gets off the bed, gathers his clothing and dresses. Just before he
leaves the room he looks at me as though he's going to say something
But he turns and leaves without saying it.
The cell, as promised, has been made more comfortable. The temperature
is a little warmer, and there are two mattresses provided, though
like bedframes. Nothing that we could make into weapons, Severus said.
I'm alone there for hours.
Not 'til much later do they bring Harry back.
His body language doesn't quite say don't touch me but neither
does he look like he wants to be touched in comfort. He sits down on
the other mattress and falls back on it.
"You all right?" I say, wanting him to say yes, and at the same time
wanting him to say no so that I will have a reason to go over
and touch him.
Dammit. God damn this.
He nods. Cranes his head around to look at me. "You?"
"Yeah," I say. "Except this craving for pickles."
His eyes widen. "Does it really happen that fast?"
"...Are you -- hurt?" It's so stupid. I hate myself for
He seems to be thinking. He shakes his head, not looking at me.
What the hell else can I say? Do you want to talk about it?
Well, he kept you for a long time? God.
I swallow. "Yes, Harry?"
He reaches out a hand to me, still without looking at me. "Hold my
I take it, try not to squeeze too hard. I can feel Harry trying to do
The next thing he says is almost too quiet to hear: "That...was my
I spend the next few hours silently playing a mental game with myself:
Voldemort and Lucius Malfoy in a room, at my mercy. Which one would I
Spells to detect pregnancy, it turns out, are useful about 3 days after
the event. So to make sure an opportunity is not missed, we have
two days later.
Session. Yeah, that's a nice gentle word for it.
This time Severus and I have even less to say. Which should suit me
fine, except it leaves me alone with thoughts of Remus.
Severus doesn't try to kiss me on the mouth this time either. But he
does kiss my shoulder, and my chest. I can't tell him not to because I
don't want him to know how much he gets to me, doing that.
I come, again. He sees to that.
He doesn't get off me quite so quickly this time. Finally I look at his
face, that short distance above mine.
He looks, once again, like there's something he wants to say.
"Black..." he says. "I'm ... sorry about R--"
"Don't." I sit up and push him off me. Our bodies separate with
a wet noise that I didn't know bodies could make. It makes me feel
than I already do. "Don't you dare mention his name. Don't you dare."
He's sitting on the bed with his palms flat on its surface behind him,
where he caught himself after I pushed him. He doesn't speak.
At last he gets up, dresses, and leaves.
I get dressed in the presence of the guards who've come to take me back
to the cell, not caring if they stare. You can't see much difference
that way anyway.
Harry's gone much longer this time as well.
All those potions, all those spells and charms. All that effort to turn
the two of us into hermaphrodites, and make sure we're fertile, and
And Hermione's still the first one of us to conceive.
Voldemort comes to see her when the charm shows her double aura. The
smile he uses for being genuinely pleased is actually grislier than the
evil smile he usually bestows.
This is the first time we've seen Hermione in a week, and she pleads to
be allowed to spend some time with us. Voldemort indulges her, as a
reward. We're allowed to go walking through the stone corridors, with
attendance. She looks as though she wants to cling to Harry's arm, but
Draco Malfoy was there when Voldemort came as well.
I can hardly ask her for details either, can I? No matter how I wrap it
up in all the genuine concern I have for her, it'll sound awful. I
but want to know if she's been harmed, but what can I do about it if
Besides, she's pregnant now. They'll be careful. Snape will see to that.
...That's wild. I'm starting to think of Severus as someone with our
best interests at heart.
They'd be so pleased to know that.
We've got to be careful.
The same charms that said Harry and I weren't pregnant also said that
this was no longer a fertile time for us.
So when Lucius comes for Harry the following day, I find myself rising
to my feet to protest.
"We're-- he's not..." I start to say. And stop.
I shouldn't be so naive. Not at my age.
No, we might be just brood mares to Voldemort, but Harry... Harry and
I think about asking Lucius what it would take for him to leave Harry
alone. I look at Lucius and imagine offering myself in Harry's place,
if he just wants something to fuck.
I think about how that would seem to Lucius--me, almost as old as he
is, versus sixteen-year-old virgin-when-he-got-to-him Harry.
Still might be worth a try.
There's a hand on my arm. "Don't, Siri," says Harry. "Please."
I realize it's more important at this moment for me not to shame him.
I let him go.
When he returns much later it's after the cell lights have been dimmed.
(I'm grateful that they let us have some idea of day and night. They
don't have to be that nice.) So I'm not sure if I'm properly seeing
what I think I see.
At first I think he might have been hit. His mouth looks swollen. And
then I see the marks on his neck.
He's already sitting down on the mattress and I move to him. "Harry?
Are you hurt? Did that--"
I stop what I was going to say.
I know what that is. He wasn't hit. He looks absolutely the definition
of freshly shagged, as they say.
Harry looks at me-- and sees something in my eyes.
I didn't mean for it to be there. But he sees it.
He pulls away from me. "Leave me alone."
"Harry-- I didn't--" Shit.
His back to me, he draws away further. "I said don't touch me!"
I am such a fucking git.
I move away, trying to collect my thoughts before I speak.
I wait a while. I don't want him to cut me off right away and I've
fucked up badly.
Finally, I say, "I'm sorry."
He doesn't say anything, or turn towards me, so I go on, trying to get
out the most important things: "It's my fault. All I can think is,
my godson, and I should have been able to do something to protect you,
I haven't been. It makes me so angry that it makes me stupid. I'm
I take a deep breath. "I'm not angry at you. I could never be angry at
you. It's not like you have a choice. It's okay. Whatever you're
is okay. Whatever you're doing is okay. I'm sorry, Harry."
He still doesn't respond or look at me, and I can't think of anything
else to say that wouldn't be repeating myself. I turn away and lie down.
I'm awakened by someone curling up against my side. It's him.
"Siri?" he says, and his voice is thick. I don't think he's crying but
he sounds miserable.
"I'm here, Harry. It's okay."
"Is it awful?"
It takes me a moment to understand.
"Severus, you mean?"
I feel him nod.
Great. How do I answer that one?
Well, certainly not with a that's personal business, Harry. I
owe him answers since I can't give him anything else.
"Not really." I put an arm around him. "It's odd. Not the same as what
I'm used to... but not so different, either... same kind of
I realize I'm starting to retreat behind big words. "Um. I enjoyed it.
Yes. Is that what you wanted to know?"
A pause. Another nod. "Part."
How do I tell him that it's all right to respond to the rapist who's
fucking you to get you pregnant?
Hopefully I just did.
All right, how do I tell him that it's okay to feel guilty about it?
And okay to NOT feel guilty about it?
Severus doesn't try to take advantage of me during this time.
Never thought I'd be grateful to the snarky little shit.
Don't like feeling grateful. Arrgh. There's a conflict for
Days later, I experience my first period.
I take back EVERYTHING I said about women having too little to complain
I complain more than Harry does. How pathetic is that?
With Hermione's pregnancy come some unexpected benefits for all three
of us. Someone decides exercise is good for both pregnant individuals
and those trying to become pregnant, as well as mood-lifters like
companionship, so we get to go on those guarded walks through the place
Hermione isn't particularly sick, though there's hardly anything
glowing about her. We find out that Draco isn't leaving her alone just
because she's pregnant, either.
She shares her feelings about that with us in hushed tones: "I'm glad
to be expecting, already. It makes it easier. I think you'll see. Not
because the pressure's off, though that's part of it." She gets even
quieter. "The baby's protective, you see. As long as it's there, I know
they don't want anything to happen to me. So I don't want anything to
happen to it. So that means I... I don't have to fight him. I
felt like I should have,
before. Anything so that I couldn't blame myself for letting them do
to me. But there was the two of you to think about... but that still
enough. Now... now it's enough. I can't let anything happen to the
so I don't feel guilty about not fighting."
Harry says, "You don't have to feel guilty. Not about fighting or about
He did get it.
Whether he believes it about himself I don't know, of course.
Lucius doesn't leave Harry alone even during the time he's on his
period. That just seems so fucking evil to me. Not distateful, just
Harry says to me, that night: "Did you know that orgasm helps those
"...No." How the hell would I have known that?
"Does. I... you can see for yourself. I won't watch. Or listen. I
promise." I imagine how his face must be flaming when he says that.
Despite my own discomfort at the idea of wanking off not ten feet away
from my own godson, even if he is on another mattress, I was the one
the loudest about the cramps.
I find he's right.
When the charms indicate our potential for fertility is on the rise,
Severus and I share the room again.
I ask him if any of us can be permitted to go outside. At least see
He says it's not up to him.
"Yes it is," I say. "I think you are making the medical
"That one wouldn't be a medical decision. It would be one of security."
"Oh, come on, Sev."
His mouth twitches. "Don't."
"Oh, why not, Sev? 'M I making you uncomfortable?
Wouldn't want to do that, would I?" I make a show of flopping
belly-down on the bed, my chin propped on my fist. "Want me to buy
an hour of daylight off of you? I could suck your cock for it. I'm very
good at that, so I've been told."
Severus has his hands curled into fists at his sides. Suddenly I
recognize something: he was the Death Eater that Voldemort called broken,
"You're trying to get me angry before we-- before I do this to you. Why
do you want to do that, Black?"
"You're the one that they've put in the position of provider. The one
we can wheedle at for favors. That I have to ask for favors.
You think I don't see that?"
He glares. Good. I like it when he glares. Better than this whole
attitude of apology he's been carrying when he's around me.
At last he says, "I have better control than you seem to think, Black.
You will not goad me into hurting you."
I smile. "That a dare?"
"No." He starts to undress.
Seeing no reason to be stubborn about it, so do I.
When he comes to the bed, he puts a hand on my shoulder and applies
pressure that indicates he wants me to turn over onto my stomach. It
gives me a moment's pause but I do it.
He straddles me on the bed and his hands ghost down my sides until they
come to rest on my hips, and he makes me lift them a little. He starts
stroking between my legs, creating an erection without even touching my
by paying attention to the increasingly damp orifice behind my scrotum.
shift on the bed so that the erection is less painful.
The bastard spends the longest time stroking me. I think any minute
I'll feel him push inside me but I don't. Soon I'm panting, pushing my
face against the pillow to try to muffle the sound. That only makes me
need air more.
Severus slides his other hand around my hip and takes a hold of my
cock. Somehow he manages to maintain the light fingertip touch that my
clitoris seems to prefer and yet fist my cock in that other hand with
pressure at the same time. He still hasn't tried to penetrate me, but I
process that as I come, not bothering to hide the groan as my cock
and shoots in his grip, my clitoris pushing towards his wet fingers at
Not until that is over do I feel him shift behind me, his cock pushing
into the sensitive but undeniably relaxed opening of my vagina as his
settles on my back.
And he pushes one of those wet fingers against my anus, and enters it
at the same time.
I shudder so deep I think I'm going to come again right away. Oh god.
Both his cock and his finger stay inside me after he comes. I feel his
lips on my shoulder blade, kissing me in that same gentle way he did on
the previous days.
I wonder if he's been with a hermaphrodite before. They're hardly
common, but their creation to allow men to conceive children has an old
Maybe he's got a kink for them.
Maybe Lucius Malfoy does as well.
Harry conceives that month.
He's utterly stoic about it when the charm reveals it, and when
Voldemort and Lucius are brought in to be shown the result. But he does
when we're alone in our cell, clinging to me as hard as I do him.
After he's calmed down a bit, I make a few jokes about disowning him
for getting knocked up out of wedlock. It startles a choked laugh out
of him, and I'm glad I'm good for something after all.
Lucius doesn't give Harry up then either.
When he comes for Harry later that same day that his pregnancy was
revealed, I think I see something in Harry's eyes I didn't expect to
And I don't know if it's just an end to the suspense, or something more.
I tell myself that what I told Harry was true. He has nothing to be
He's been with Lucius Malfoy most of the days since we were changed.
And I have every reason to believe he's done a pretty fair attempt at
Pretty fair job of it, too. Maybe. Maybe.
If Lucius abandons him, the kid loses more than just physical affection.
Did I just call it that?
When I'm still not pregnant the next month, Voldemort shows up to view
the charm's results with an air of impatience. Severus, who is there,
him that nothing is wrong, that even with perfect conditions, there's
a twenty percent chance of conception in any given cycle.
"Indeed," says Voldemort. "Perhaps you should make one more effort,
just in case. Since these things are so... imperfect."
I ask Severus, when we're alone, "Were the three of you tested before
this began? You and the Malfoys?"
"Of course. And there's no question of incompatibility between our
gametes. That was tested as well."
"Was what you told Voldemort the truth, or were you bullshitting?"
He gives me a stare. "It was the truth. And do you honestly think you
are not being overheard, Black? Anywhere in this place?"
Really. You were the one who tried to apologize to me about Remus, you
Unless that was calculated as well.
But then, why caution me?
It makes my head hurt thinking about it. I shut up and let him fuck me.
Harry is very careful. More careful than I could have guided him to be.
His requests, designed to maximize our comfort, are neither too
frequent or demanding. Most of them relate to food. The kid gets us bottled
water, for god's sake. He's good.
But they still won't let us outside.
Besides the walks with Hermione, we also have a short session between
the three of us and Severus a couple of times a week, regarding
have about our pregnancies. Their pregnancies, I should say. I get to
in but am not in a similar condition yet.
Though I like the way that Severus can't pretend he isn't the
mediwizard substitute any longer. He can't be vague about that any more.
I watch Severus while the others ask him questions: is it normal to be
so sleepy, to be nauseated in the evening instead of the morning, to
the mattress stuffing looks delicious. (The answer to that last one
out to be yes, though Severus asks Hermione to please try to resist
None of us ask the most burning questions of all: are we going to see
the little grubs after they're born? Are they going to have us make
Or do we get disposed of after this experiment is over?
I think Hermione didn't have it quite right. The pregnancy isn't
The pregnancy is finite. It's the delay of the pregnancy that's more
Hermione, of course, starts to look pregnant first. But it isn't
anything startling on her.
Not long after she has that swallowed-a-small-melon look and thinks
she's starting to feel the first flutters, I'm brought back to our cell
another session with Severus and find Harry sitting with his shirt off,
running his hands over the convexity that his lower belly is starting
become. It takes everything I have not to stop in my tracks.
Yeah, I know that's what's planned for me too. That isn't what I'm
thinking when I look at Harry, though.
God, I want to kill them all.
"The Dursleys called me a freak, you know. Because of my magic."
No. Don't, Harry. You're supposed to be the one with the unpredictable
hormones; I don't want to start crying here.
"You think if they could see me now--"
"You're not a freak, Harry." I sit down next to him, put my hands on
his shoulders. It seems important that I show him I'm not afraid to
touch him. "How far'd you get in History Of Magic class?"
He looks at me.
"There were wizard monarchs who took potions to become hermaphrodites,
so that they could bear their children themselves. They had to make
no one could ever accuse them of not being the fathers of their own
That's how it started, you know. If monarchs did it willingly, you
anyone ever called them freaks?"
He seems to be thinking about that. "Probably behind their backs."
"Yeah, but if anyone found out about it, the monarch could cut their
heads off. See? Hermaphrodites were bad motherfuckers."
I make him smile again. Maybe I need to ask for a little cap with bells
next time; I seem to have found one useful thing to do for Harry.
Remembering that thought later, another comes to me.
Harry and Hermione are both pregnant, and I'm not. What they said about
each of us being hostage for the other shouldn't apply anymore. If I do
something, something they don't want me to do... they probably will
punish me for it, and not the other two. They wouldn't risk that. Not
anything physical, anyway.
The thought's empowering. I have to be careful. Can't throw that away
on anything small.
But it's good to know that I can watch for opportunities.
Lucius's appetite for Harry does not seem to be diminished by the
changes in his appearance.
And I'm grateful for that.
That is just so wrong, to be grateful for that.
But Harry needs so much to know that he's wanted. That he isn't a freak.
I get the courage to ask Harry about it at last by couching it terms of
concern for the pregnancy.
And Harry tells me.
Tells me that Lucius was gentle with him at first, and then, as Harry
started to overcome his initial fear, moved from gentle to thorough.
got pregnant, he backed down just a bit towards gentle again, though
Though Harry does not cry during this confession, nor does he tell it
quickly, I still get the impression of a dam bursting. He wanted very
badly to tell it. Perhaps he is using the pretense of the pregnancy as
And Harry admits that he looks forward to his hours with Lucius. Lucius
treats him like something wanted, like something he's hungry for. Harry
knows very well it's probably all quite calculated.
But Lucius could have stopped after he became pregnant.
"I don't think it's completely calculated," I tell him, knowing he
needs to hear that.
Should I hate Lucius Malfoy more for this, or less?
I hate that I'm even asking myself that.
I suppose it gives my mental exercise, of which one would I kill first,
him or Voldemort, a solution.
I don't want to lose any of my mental exercises. They keep me from
thinking about Remus.
When the charm shows that I, too, have a double aura, five months from
the time they turned me into a hermaphrodite, it's my turn to feel that
I had thought delaying the pregnancy was protective. But the looks
Voldemort was giving me and Severus were making me unexpectedly
nervous. I was starting to have ideas that he was going to swap out
Severus for Pettigrew after
Oh, yeah. Believe me, that's the wildest of all. That I'd feel relief
that it was going to stay Severus.
Though I suppose, with me being pregnant at last, it isn't going to stay
anybody. Severus has never tried to have sex with me when I wasn't
fertile. I shouldn't expect him to do anything different now.
I shouldn't have gotten confused like that.
But two weeks later, there is blood on my thighs, and I forget for a
minute that it isn't just a period again, forget that there is no
period when you're pregnant.
It's a very early miscarriage. No spells are needed to complete it; it
really only seems like a slightly heavier period after all.
Voldemort, with Severus accompanying him, comes to see me. I can't
quite read his expression.
"Those are old witch's tales," says Severus, in response to something
unspoken. "There isn't anything he could have done to cause it. Not
Not this early."
Oh. That's what that look was.
Voldemort gives him that look now: mistrustful, angry. But at last he
says, "Can he begin again soon?"
Severus nods, after a pause. "Ovulation usually occurs within the
"Good." Voldemort leaves the cell. Severus goes with him, not looking
Harry asks me if I'm sad about it.
The question seems absurd. What is there to be sad about?
And yet, inexplicably, I am.
Hermione's starting to have that swayback walk about her. Harry isn't
quite there yet. She's also beginning to complain about swollen ankles.
She lets me feel it move. "There, do you feel that?" she says, her hand
over mine on her belly.
Harry has just started to feel his as well. He doesn't smile. There's a
look of disquiet on his face when he feels it shift inside him.
I look at Severus.
"Voldemort didn't say anything about you being unlucky for me?"
"Actually, I told him that we now have very solid evidence that we can
conceive together, miscarriage or no."
"Did you now. Isn't that nice for you."
He doesn't answer.
"Why do you want to keep doing this, Severus? You eager for your own
little heir? You kinky for hermaphrodites? Or I am just the closest you
could ever get to Remus, by taking what he left behind?"
I have no idea what possessed me to say that last part.
And I clearly did not expect the reaction it gets.
As usual, Severus keeps his expression neutral when I start the
sarcasm. But as soon as I say Remus's name, he jerks.
His eyes blaze as I finish the question.
"How dare you," he hisses.
I don't have to say it: How dare I? ME?
He's already hearing it, hanging in the air between us, unspoken. It's
all over his face.
Whoa. What... just happened, there?
We don't talk. Not for the entire rest of the time.
His desire to get it over with as fast as possible is palpable, in the
room. Yet I can feel how he gets control of himself, makes himself go
Sticking to his resolve not to hurt me.
I thought he might try to avoid looking at my face but he doesn't. He
keeps his eyes on me the entire time.
Almost like it's a penance.
Our efforts are not rewarded that month. I'm not pregnant.
Harry's feeling more movement. He watches his belly shifting under its
own power with something between ick and wow on his
Hermione still looks tired. Moreso. She and Harry have conversations
about the least uncomfortable positions for sleeping.
"Is it normal to have headaches?" Hermione asks.
Severus looks at her. Something in the way he pauses before answering
makes us all look at her.
"Sometimes. Have you had them since the beginning?"
"I had them at the beginning. They went away for a little while
but now they're back."
He nods slowly.
"They're usually normal."
Harry's requests are still carefully spaced, but his wish to have more
time outside of the cell is his most frequent one. He meant with
and me, but he gets it in a different way than he expected: Lucius
some of their time together not merely in bed with him, but just
him: walking, teaching him chess moves, that sort of thing.
I can see that Harry comes to crave this time with him. Yet he
disciplines himself fiercely not to jump at every chance. I realize
that's for my sake. He's gone long enough, and I'm out of the cell much
less frequently-- he
hates abandoning me.
One day it's Harry's turn to make me laugh, when he tells me
that one of the Death Eaters muttered something about Harry's
Lucius actually hit the man in the face with his cane.
"So he broke his nose because he called you fat?"
We howl for an hour over that one.
He also tells me, again with the seeming that he needs to tell someone,
that Lucius seems to have a fondness for feeling the baby move under
hands when he makes love to Harry.
I'm not sure I wanted to know that. But I murmur something reassuring.
Hermione, on the other hand, volunteers no information about how Draco
I wonder if that's a good sign or a bad.
The next time Severus and I are alone I follow that line of questions.
It'll serve to keep us away from the topic we got too near last time.
"Does Lucius talk to you about Harry?"
Severus looks at me.
"Do you get any idea at all about how he really feels about him? Or is
that all an extended part of Voldemort's plot?"
I really hope it isn't, for all that the alternative is weird enough.
If it were, I would expect Severus would have had instructions to be
behaving the same way towards me.
Unless they're both subtler than I'm giving them credit for.
Severus looks away. After a few moments he speaks very quietly.
"Lucius was enamoured of the idea of defiling The Boy Who Lived, I'm
quite sure. That was at first. Somewhere it went from defiling to
merely corrupting. Now..." He doesn't speak again for a few moments. "I
think he was unprepared for one of the boy's most powerful weapons."
"What's that?" I ask, knowing he wants me to but willingly playing
along. He's giving me the answers, after all.
"His essential artless virtue. Stupid of Lucius. He knows the boy's a
Gryffindor, after all. In someone lesser Lucius could enjoy ruining
that virtue. But
I think Potter is exceptional, even for a Gryffindor."
"You don't need to tell me that."
"No, I don't, do I?" He arches an eyebrow in a way that could almost
pass for a smile, coming from him, despite the fact that there's
a smile on his face. "For all that he's a cheeky little brat, there's a
core of goodness to him that men like Lucius think they find
contemptible. But under the right circumstances, it becomes endearing,
all the same."
"Are you supposed to be saying this out loud?"
Severus shrugs. "He knows. Voldemort sees it. He finds it amusing,
that's all. It doesn't matter if I speak of it."
"What about Draco?"
"Draco?" Both eyebrows lifted this time, and if there's humor there,
it's the contemptuous kind. "Draco is sixteen."
"Don't pretend to be thick. The circumstances couldn't be more
different. Draco's no more capable of sorting out what he feels for her
than he is
of understanding that he'll be a father in a few months."
"Will he be?"
"A father. Or is his work done, as far as that goes? Come on, Severus,
I'm not pretending to be that thick. They're hardly going to
him raise the grub, are they?"
"Why are you asking this, Black?" he says. "You know there's no answer
I can make. Would you believe me if I said she'll be allowed to see the
child? Would I tell you if you were going to be killed as soon as you
"Well, not as soon. You'd wait until all of us had delivered
before you killed us, so that the others wouldn't have any warning."
"Oh, very clever, Black. You should be the one making the plans."
"Yeah, it's amazing how much you get to think like the enemy after
months of imprisonment."
That quiets him.
But I'm not interested in winding him up any more today.
As I get my clothing off, I realize that my arms are over goosebumps,
as if it's cold in the room, or if this were the first time. But it's
I realize that I'm actually wanting the physical contact.
I've been so careful not to impose any unwanted touching on Harry that
I'm probably giving off the same signal in reverse. Which isn't really
I'm feeling. It's difficult, starving for contact.
I've been envious of what Harry's getting from Lucius.
I don't think about Remus this time. But I also don't have to do any
active blocking of the fact that it's Severus. It doesn't matter. I
myself to focus on the fact that it's touch, and that does not seem
Sigh. I guess this could be how they're working it, as well.
He lies next to me, afterward, for a while. That's a little different.
Unless one of us has something to say he usually doesn't linger.
Either he's giving me an opportunity to spend a little more time out of
the cell, or he wants to do it again. I won't be able to stop him if
it's the latter, not unless I'm willing to pay the price for resisting,
so I don't waste time worrying about it.
"Is it really normal for Hermione to be having those headaches?" I ask.
Severus doesn't answer.
"Oh, just tell me," I grouse. "Otherwise you'll leave me thinking the
worst possible outcomes."
"Headaches happen frequently in pregnancy without being anything
I lift my head and look at him. "Oh, thanks, Severus, you've really
relieved all my fears. What kind of answer was that?"
"It's the truth. Stop bothering me about it."
We're at his tolerance already? Hell. That means he is bothered
"Look, if she really is sick, you're not going to make us feel more
reassured by hiding it. Is she in any danger? You've already been a
party to one death, Snape." I didn't mean to make that come out so
hatefully, but I don't seem to be able to talk about it any other way.
Severus sits up. He looks at me. "I should not care what you think of
me, Black. Or what you say of me. But hear this: I did not know he
to kill Remus Lupin. I was in the room when it happened. I agreed to
Voldemort. For that alone, yes, I am guilty of a part in his death. But
Oh, no. He should know not to try to defend himself on this one. My
laughter is not a pleasant sound. "And what are you telling me, Snape?
You telling me that if you'd known, you'd have stopped him? Refused to
stay in his service? Thrown yourself in front of the bullet?"
He gets up slowly, controlled. Pulls on his clothing without taking his
eyes off mine.
"If there was ever one man in the world," he says, "that was truly
stainless, that would never have harmed another, said a harsh word
that had a virtue that could never be touched, it wouldn't have been
Boy Who Lived, Sirius. He may come close, but even he couldn't match
That's all he says. He's dressed, and he leaves.
And I'm left to stare after him.
One day we're informed that Hermione won't be accompanying us for a
walk. She's been told to stay off her feet.
They do let us go to see her. Under guard, we sit in her cell and talk
with her. (Are they still worried we're gonna throw ourselves on her
a quick shag if they're not there? God.) She doesn't look particularly
just tired. She seems to have a headache all the time now.
Harry cheers her up by poking at her swollen ankles and joking, "What,
is this what you're complaining about? Mine are WAY bigger." And
to show her.
"You see?" she says, shaking her head. "This is EXACTLY why they don't
let men have the babies. It's always a "Mine's BIGGER!" competition
When we leave her she does look in better spirits. Harry tells the
guards that stress isn't good for pregnancy, and it would be best for
all concerned if the visits continue, and surely that isn't much to
ask, is it?
On the next visit, she's complaining that the light hurts her eyes.
I ask one of the guards to see Severus.
The guard refuses. I don't ask him again.
Lucius comes for Harry later that day.
I don't want to worry Harry. That's not easy, because he can already
tell that I'm worried.
Nevertheless, I give it a try.
Lucius looks at me.
"Will you ask Severus to please come talk to me."
He raises those aristocratic eyebrows of his, but it isn't a sneer. "I
will if I see him, Black."
"Could you make a point of seeing him. Please."
Lucius looks at Harry, who is giving him that same near-pleading look.
Even if I don't succeed, Harry may.
But he says, "Severus is gone right now. When I see him I shall give
I can't think of anything else to do. Not without throwing a fit, and
right now that's not going to help.
Harry tells me, later, that he asked Lucius to please try to contact
I know he must know that I want to see him because of Hermione, but why
should I be surprised? My track record so far for trying to protect him
why should this be any different?
Severus doesn't come that day.
On the next, when we're with Hermione, she falls silent in
mid-sentence, turns her face to the side, twitches once, and doesn't
speak to us again. Harry shakes her. Her eyes are half-closed and they
stay that way.
Now it's time to throw a fit.
If what's happened to Hermione wasn't so terrifying, I'd say throwing
that fit feels good.
More guards come. They try to take us back to our cell.
It takes force.
They get me back in more easily because they're not afraid to manhandle
me. It takes longer to return Harry to the cell, as they try to
find a balance of force that will make him go where he doesn't want to
go, without hurting him, without using magic on him.
That's a very bad night.
Neither of us leaves the cell for another two weeks.
Lucius doesn't come. Severus doesn't come. We're not allowed to see
Pleading doesn't help, screaming doesn't help, threatening doesn't
help. And we do a lot of all three.
The threats are particularly useless. Harry can insist he'll do harm to
himself all he wants, but they know he won't do it. Not while we don't
know what's happening to Hermione.
After a few days, I tell Harry something that I know is true, for all
that it's meant to reassure him.
"They aren't letting Lucius or Severus come to see us. Because of
what's happening with Hermione and how we're reacting. They would come
Harry doesn't challenge that statement. Good. He knows it's the truth,
"Do you think she's all right?" he asks me for the thousandth time.
"Voldemort wants the baby. He can't let her come to harm if he wants
the baby to make it."
But that's the part that I can't make sound convincing.
At the end of the two weeks, guards come.
They point to me. "You. You only."
"NO," says Harry. "I want to SEE her. What the fuck is going ON?"
"We can still hurt him," says one, indicating me, "if you try to
I don't tell him to let it go. Hell, I don't care. They can do what
they want to me.
But, seething, he backs down.
"I'll find out what I can," I promise him.
But it's not Hermione they take me to see. I realize that as soon as I
see what direction we're going, and that's why it's only me.
Goddammit, they've remembered that I'm ovulating again.
Snape's already in the room. The door closes behind me.
"Severus." My throat is dry. "Is she all right? Is she alive?"
He's standing with his arms tightly folded. "She's ill."
"No fucking SHIT. What the hell is going on?"
"TELL me, goddammit!"
"Sirius. He won't let me see her."
That stops me.
He steps closer to me. Comes very close. His voice is just above a
"He summoned me back, to see her, just after she had the seizure. I
think it's called toxaemia. She's sick. The pregnancy's making her
happens, sometimes. The cure is to deliver the baby." He pauses. "I
Voldemort that and he asked what would happen if the baby was delivered
Severus goes on: "He won't let her be delivered. I told him she's far
enough along, at thirty weeks, that the baby could still make it.
He won't allow it. Not yet. Says he wants to be sure. I told him that
if she dies, the fetus certainly will too. Sometimes the fetus dies
first, because of
the mother being so sick. He doesn't care. Says she can stay pregnant a
more weeks. If it looks like she's going to die he said he'll cut it
Trust Severus to know not to couch it in any gentle terms.
"Do something," I say.
"They won't let me go near her. I told Voldemort this was the wrong
thing to do; he'll lose them both. He ordered me away. I have asked him
single day, Sirius. Today he told me to get out of his sight and get
on my 'other part of the experiment,' as he called it."
"Do something else." This isn't happening. She's doing
everything they want. Complying. Submitting. This can't be happening to
"Do you not think I am trying?" he hisses. "Voldemort knows
very well that I would intervene if he gives me any opportunity. He is
I have none."
I find myself sitting on the edge of the bed. "When will he let her
have it?" says a voice that seems too distant to be mine.
Severus inhales slowly. "Another two weeks. Don't ask to see her. He
won't allow it. Lucius is upset that he won't let him visit Harry. The
only reason you've been allowed to see me is..." His voice trails off.
He doesn't have to finish; we both know.
We seem to have nothing else to say for a time. At last Severus sits
down next to me, and we continue the silence.
"Will she be all right... if she lives?" I say at last.
He shakes his head. "I don't know. My hope is that she will go into
labor by herself. Sometimes that happens, when the body knows that it
from the pregnancy. But to stay like that for so long..." He shakes his
head again. "She could develop brain damage."
I turn my head to look at him. "You could fix that."
Slowly he nods. "If she lives."
If she doesn't, there's no fixing anything. Oh, fuck.
"I don't know how much of this you want to tell Harry."
None of it. "I'll figure it out."
I wonder why I am so quick to believe everything Severus says. Not
about Hermione's condition-- I don't see any reason he'd lie about
about him not being able to do anything.
But I do believe him.
I don't notice when it is that we go from sitting there like that to
lying on the bed together, still clothed but that changing too by
degrees, until at last we've moved to the purpose that has brought us
together in that
room, and this time I remember that Severus does kiss me on the mouth,
that I think that that should disturb me but I can't be bothered,
to work up outrage or even a mental shudder over something that small,
he takes his time again, I do notice that.
I notice the expression on his face when he's driving deep into me.
Nothing so simple as a reaction to physical sensation is displayed
there. But it's so far from simple that I have a hard time reading it.
Orgasm lets me forget, for a time.
Later, I murmur, "Severus." He doesn't move but I know he's listening.
"Please do whatever you can. If you want something from me I'll give it
to you. Whatever you want."
He shakes his head. "Don't, Black." He gets up and starts to dress. He
doesn't elaborate further and I know that he's saying he intends to do
he can anyway.
I still feel the need to give him something, to beg his help.
I give him something that would have cost me too much, not long ago.
"Severus. You were in love with Remus, weren't you?"
He stops what he's doing. Resumes a minute later.
Dressed, he looks at me where I'm lying, and says: "Remus was one of
the best people who ever walked this earth. Had your little circle been
Arthurian Round Table, Black, he would have been Galahad, selfless and
incorruptible and not one degree short of deserving canonization."
He turns away, puts his hand on the door, and I hear him say, "But he
wasn't the one I was in love with."
And he leaves.
Before I can get up and confront him.
"What the hell does that mean? Snape, goddamn you, how dare you
fucking throw that at me and try to run away--"
The door opens. The guards are waiting to take me back to the cell.
I tell Harry about Hermione. I do couch it in gentler terms for him.
I also don't fail to tell him what Severus said about Lucius.
No one comes for a week. We try not to plead or rant. Maybe if they
feel we're acting calmly they'll relent.
No one comes for another week.
Looking after Harry helps me get through. I make him eat, finding that
the baby really is useful blackmail for that.
It's remarkable, how he's come to terms with it. The baby. He didn't
ask for it, so he shouldn't have to feel responsible for it. But
somewhere around the time it started moving, he told me he'd come to
see it as a guest, in the same way that ancient tradition said that you
were responsible for your guest's welfare, and to do him harm under
your own roof was the grossest
God, I have to get him out of here. Somehow. I can't be passive any
I don't have the appetite to eat, though I try, as an example for Harry.
Two days later, I hear it: "Sirius."
I'm at the cell door immediately, Harry next to me almost as quickly,
for all that he has to get his pregnant bulk up from a sitting
position. Severus is visible at the cell door bars.
He looks at us.
I hear Harry suck in his breath and stumble back.
Severus doesn't say anything else. Not I'm sorry or There
was nothing I could do.
I'm glad of that.
"The baby," I say.
"Alive," he says. "It appears it will live."
They must have cut it out of her, like they threatened.
I look back at Harry. He's retreated all the way to the opposite wall,
where he slid down it, sitting with his back pressed to it, arms
on his chest. Shivering.
Looking at nothing.
When I look back at the door, Severus is gone.
I can't get Harry to move away from the wall.
Or eat or drink.
And I don't think he sleeps, either. He stares.
"Harry. Harry, please. Please try."
A cup put to his lips just spills the water down his chin. He won't.
"Harry, come on. It's not good if you get dehydrated."
Oh, god. I can't do this. Once again, I learn just how I can't save my
He doesn't even cry.
Is this what they call catatonia?
After four days I appeal to the guards.
Of course, their first tack is to threaten my welfare. Which doesn't
bother me, except Harry doesn't seem to hear them.
Hushed conferences outside the door. Different footsteps coming and
At one point I think I feel Voldemort's red eyes on me. I jerk awake,
finding that I've fallen asleep next to Harry, and look toward the
door. No one's there but a guard.
I forget to eat myself. Actually it isn't forgetting. I feel too sick
And then I remember.
They got sloppy. They remembered to make Severus and I have sex while I
was ovulating, but they forgot the aura charm three days later.
I think I might actually be pregnant again.
I didn't have the nausea before.
Maybe that means I'm not going to miscarry this time.
A day later the door opens, and it's Lucius.
He crosses to Harry. I back up and let him kneel in front of him, in
the position I was just in.
He touches Harry's face with his fingertips. "Harry. Caro." His
voice is soft.
He leans in to kiss his cheek. "Harry. Let it out. I'm here."
Lucius slides his arms around my godson, lifting him up just enough to
pull Harry against him, into an embrace completely of his own making,
Harry still doesn't respond. He strokes Harry's back, murmuring similar
endearments and words of reassurance, and, miracle of miracles, I think
I see Harry's eyelids twitch almost closed.
"Come, caro. For the child's sake if not your own. For my sake
if not your own."
He kisses Harry on the mouth, and I see Harry's arm lift, drape over
Lucius's back, his fingers splayed and just beginning to curl.
Lucius breaks the kiss and looks at me, his arms still around Harry. I
can hardly read his expression; I'm sure he can't read mine. I don't
to be grateful to this man but he's doing something for Harry that I
and I have to get over myself on this one. I'm not important here;
He looks toward the door. "Let me take him out of here."
The one guarding the door shakes his head. "They're not to leave the
cell. No exceptions, not even for you, Lucius."
I see how Lucius tempers his expression, as if he feels it would be a
waste of a perfectly good smouldering glare to release it on the man at
the door. He turns back to Harry almost briskly, kisses his face again.
I hear a hitch in Harry's breathing.
Lucius meets my eyes again. Now I can read his expression. There's a
touch of arrogance there, as if he's grafted the words I'm Lucius
Malfoy, you cur onto the beginning of what he's telling me, which
is and I'm
doing this whether you watch or not.
I push myself back to the corner of the cell. But I don't turn away.
It isn't that I want to watch. But I can't do anything else.
Lucius pulls Harry the few feet necessary to lay him down on one of the
mattresses, and Harry doesn't resist him; already he's lost that
rigidity to his limbs that I couldn't pull him out of when he was
sitting against the
wall. Lucius kisses his face, his throat, smooths his hair back from
forehead like a parent checking a child for a fever. Kisses him on the
Sliding onto the mattress next to him, over him, at an angle that
accommodates Harry's pregnant belly, Lucius puts a hand beneath Harry's
and begins to kiss him on the mouth in a way that makes me think that
everyone could kiss like that, the human race would have died out long
because no one would ever have gotten beyond that to actually discover
He kisses him the same way I imagine him enjoying a meal with many
appreciating the different textures, different flavors and temperatures
of each, enjoying the way it takes so long to get to everything.
hands are on Lucius's shoulders, pressing at him with the pads of his
and his eyes are closed all the way now as he kisses back.
I think I can see tears welling at the closed line of his lashes. One
runs over and down his temple.
Lucius slides Harry's shirt up from his waist-- he doesn't have to
unbutton it to do this, the shirts Harry's wearing these days are huge
on him, to
accommodate his belly-- and runs his hand over that oval surface,
reverently. Harry makes a noise in his throat; his eyes open, and more
spill over. Lucius whispers something to Harry, not meant for me to
but I hear the structure of the t's and p's in the
and know that he said I will not let anything happen to you.
Words I never could say to Harry because I couldn't make them come true.
Lucius finishes pulling the shirt off, takes Harry in his arms again
and kisses down from his throat to his chest, where he begins to tongue
of Harry's nipples, and then the other, as Harry breathes a choked sigh
and lifts his hands to the back of Lucius's head, twining his fingers
the man's hair, clutching in a way that looks like it must hurt but
Lucius endures without reacting, except to mouth his chest harder,
at each nipple now, until he gets a cry out of Harry, who bites his own
and arches his back under Lucius's mouth.
Lucius brings both of his hands to Harry's abdomen again, stroking, not
in a way that is tender anymore, but is light and teasing and amazingly
goddamn erotic to watch. Like this, with Malfoy treating his entire
body as something sexual and desirable and very, very fuckable, Harry's
pregnant belly doesn't look absurd on him at all. I look at the way
Harry throws the back of his hand against his eyes while he pants and I
ache at the beauty of him.
Again I ask myself how I can be watching this, Lucius Malfoy having his
way with my godson, not ten feet away from me in a prison cell.
A voice in my head says There's nothing to judge, or feel guilty
for, Siri. They're beautiful together, aren't they?
I continue to watch though my eyes are full of tears now. We were
like that, Remy. You were like that-- so beautiful. I miss you so
So goddamn much.
I don't let myself sob. I keep the crying quiet, for Harry's sake.
Lucius has the rest of Harry's clothing off now. Harry has his arms
around Lucius, and seems not to want to let go of him, not even to let
Lucius get undressed. Lucius soothes him, murmurs those gentle
endearments in Italian, maybe in other languages I can't identify.
Harry murmurs things that should make me blush to hear them, for all
that they are nothing more than Please
and I need you. To hear that coming from him should make me
ashamed; instead I feel the ache for Remy only intensify.
Soon they are skin on skin, and Lucius continues to explore his body
with fingertip and tongue as if it is the first time, always returning
mouth, to kiss it, to take possession of it with his own mouth, as if
something addictive into Harry's bloodstream as he does so. Harry
back fiercely, again fisting his hands in Lucius's hair until Lucius
a hold of his wrists and pulls them away, pinning them at Harry's sides
they kiss like it's a battle, each trying to win at the expense of the
Finally, both of them breathless (no wonder Harry's mouth always looked
swollen), Lucius pulls away and rolls Harry, not to his stomach but his
side, where he slides behind him and sets to biting the juncture
between his neck and his shoulder. Harry hisses, pushing his mouth
against his own arm to muffle
it, as Lucius continues, sliding his arms about Harry from behind,
his hands over his abdomen again and then down to his cock, and between
legs. Harry moans as Lucius takes the girth of his cock into one hand,
moans again and arches when the fingertips of Lucius's other hand begin
move in small circles on the flesh beneath his balls.
"Tesoro mio," Lucius murmurs as he strokes him, biting his
earlobe now. Harry gasps, does so again as Lucius's tongue swirls out
to lick the shell of his ear. "Open for me, caro." Harry arches again
and cries out
"Ah--" as Lucius presses inside him with his fingers, I can hear
how wet Harry is when he does that, and Lucius continues to stroke his
with the other hand, wetness shining there too, on the tip of Harry's
cock. Harry's hands look for somewhere to clutch: on the mattress, on
air, as Lucius wrests feeling out of him despite all he has been doing
feel nothing for the past five days.
Lucius takes his hands away only to pull up Harry's thigh, the one
that's uppermost, by way of one hand behind his knee, so that he can
push his own cock into Harry from behind. Harry moans, and then I see
Lucius do something with his hand interposed between their bodies and
Harry shudders, and I
know that he's penetrated his arse with a finger as well, and Harry
back against the twin penetration, begging with his body and his
for Lucius to fuck him, fuck him harder, make him unafraid to feel by
him to feeling by way of something that will not hurt, in the way that
best friend's death will hurt when he finally allows himself to feel that.
They pulse together like something boneless, like one organism with
only one cell to its body. Harry gasps, driven by him, by each slow
thrust, Lucius still doing nothing quickly. Harry's skin is flushed,
the color making him look more alive than he has in months.
Lucius stops suddenly and withdraws from him, Harry groaning in
response. Lucius moves away from Harry's back and puts him on his back
again, spreading Harry's thighs apart and crawling between them.
I watch, completely transfixed, at how Lucius penetrates him again
while carefully keeping his body above Harry's, accommodating the shape
pregnant belly, hands on Harry's hip as he slides inside him, one
away to settle on the taut ball of his abdomen, stroking again as he
the rhythm between them anew. Harry reaches for him; Lucius's other
reaches back and captures one of Harry's, bringing it to his lips,
the palm while looking into Harry's eyes the entire time. "Amo,
"Ama, amiamo..." Harry murmurs back.
"Amate, amano," they finish together, Lucius kissing the fingers
of Harry's hand for every word that is spoken.
I'm staring and I'm weeping and I'm hard all at the same time.
And I understand that expression on Lucius's face. It comes to me as
abruptly, as sharply as a ray of that sunlight that we haven't seen for
I saw that expression somewhere else. Recently.
I couldn't read it then.
I know what it meant, now.
Harry whines as the rhythm builds. Lucius isn't silent either, groaning
as he thrusts, as Harry wraps his legs around Lucius's hips and grabs
for his lover's shoulders at the same time. I don't know whose face to
look at, anymore.
Lucius's own hands are busy at the juncture of their bodies, fisting
Harry's cock at the same time his other hand slides between them,
working everything of Harry's that begs attention, from balls to
clitoris to anus. Harry's
hands move from Lucius's shoulders and clutch at the mattress beneath
even as his legs wrap tighter. He cries out, arching his neck back so
violently I can see every cord in his neck outlined, fingers scoring
into the mattress as he comes.
Lucius too cries out, moments after that, surrendering to Harry as he
comes, conceding that to Harry for just that one minute in time. He
keeps himself from collapsing on top of Harry by leaning on his hands,
lowering himself slowly as he pulls out so that he can curl about him
at an angle and not
put weight on Harry's belly.
In that position, his lover holding him, Harry's sobs, and not merely
the tears, finally break free.
Harry eats and drinks a little, that night. Allows us to get him
cleaned up a bit, and even does some of that himself.
Lucius holds him before he leaves and tells him he will return as soon
as Voldemort permits it again. Though all of us know there's no way of
knowing when that'll be.
Harry lets me hold him that night, trusting, childlike, and I'm as
soothed by the contact as he. He is able to sleep at last.
I lie awake longer. Soon, someone will remember to check. They'll know
I'm pregnant again.
There's nothing I can do about that.
No, goddammit. I have to stop thinking like that right now. I have to
get Harry out of here somehow. What happens to me doesn't matter. I
can't save it up any more; I have to come up with something to do.
There's only the two of us left now.
Harry wakes and weeps in the middle of the night, but that is all
right. That's only grief, and nothing can spare him that.
I wonder if Draco will grieve.
I may never know.
Next day I think about telling Harry about my being pregnant but
immediately drop that as a bad idea. If the opportunity arises for me
to do something to help Harry at the cost of my own welfare I don't
want him to know; he
might try that same kind of blackmail he's been subjected to. Don't
Remus. Remus, I'm pregnant. Not by you. If it could have been you it
would have been all right.
As Severus said, Remus was the best soul of all. I know he would
forgive me. More, he would wonder what there was to forgive.
There's a voice from outside the cell. It says a word, twice, and each
time the word's accompanied by a sharp crackle, followed by a heavy
right outside the door.
From that context, I reconstruct what I heard. The word was Stupefy.
We're at the door but not as fast as Severus opens it and pushes into
"Two minutes," he says, "not more. Take this."
He's fumbling in his robes for something, and all I can process is that
he's breathing fast and that he still has his wand out. No one's ever
been allowed to have a wand anywhere near us.
This would be the moment for me to grab it and use it.
But my hands are suddenly filled by what Severus pushes into them. A
small empty glass jar.
"Take it, " Severus says quickly, despite his breathing. "Harry too.
Portkey. Place is warded against even bringing portkeys in. That one
has a ten-minute muting spell. Used up eight getting here. Two minutes
it'll set the alarms off whether it's used or not. It activates the
same time. Take this too
just in case." He pushes his wand into my hand as well. "Information
what you'll need is laid out for you when you get there. Package on the
I'm sorry. I'm sorry about Remus and Hermione. God help me, take a hold
it, now, both of you!" he yells.
I look at Harry, who has backed away a step during this. His eyes are
wide and he says, "What about--"
Severus hisses, a sound of frustration. "Black, don't let him do this.
Make him touch it and don't let him pull away."
"No!" says Harry, but it's forward that he's stepping, clutching my
arm. "I'm not-- asking about Lucius. About-- Hermione's baby."
Severus exhales. "I can't. I don't know where he took it. They wouldn't
even tell me what gender it was. This is all I can do, Potter."
Harry swallows. Doesn't let go of my arm, puts his hand on the jar. He
knew what we we're thinking, and I know he was thinking it too. But he
let it affect his ability to act.
I look at Severus. There can't be more that a minute left before it
"What are you doing standing over there, then?"
His arms are folded tightly, mouth is set. Trying to give me his best
intimidating glare but I'm not one of his fucking students.
"He'll kill you."
"How clever of you, Black. Killing's hardly a new thing for him, is it?"
Only a few seconds left to do this.
How long has it been since I did something?
I reach out and grab his wrist, jerk it so hard he stumbles towards us,
and I wrap his hand around Harry's hand and the jar and mine around
theirs; he can't possibly pull away. "You want to make up for Remus and
Hermione? Fine. Then I'm going to be the one to pass judgment, not you.
I sentence you
to life." I'm snarling like I'm back in my canine form. "The rest of
life spent serving the side that isn't Voldemort's, until you pay off
debt. And since you can't pay it off, goddamn you, it will
your entire life. Do you fucking understand me?" My voice breaks. "And
can never, ever replace Remus. Do you fucking understand that?"
His face, so uncharacteristically expressionless during my rant, at
last gets a little of his familiar sneer back. "I thought I told you
there was no one who could ever do that."
"Got something we agree on after all, don't we, you prick?"
And the portkey activates.
The place we arrive is indoors.
But there are windows.
And the first thing I see is the sunlight, almost too bright to bear.
Harry, innocent creature that he is, forgives Lucius for not loving him
enough to sacrifice himself for Harry's freedom. Even I cannot hate
man like Lucius Malfoy could never love that selflessly, and that he
loved him at all is remarkable.
But none of us, even Severus, know if he loves Harry enough to let us
stay free. Enough for us to risk the contact.
Harry understands this, and does not press us.
Though I know it is eating him alive. He's only seventeen.
He rejoices that his child is not born in captivity.
Severus takes the news of my own pregnancy with a mixed display of
emotions. I have to tell him right away, as he wonders why I'm not
transforming into my animagus form the moment we're out of the
dampening effect of our prison. (Another reason to be really pissed
off. I want my canine form almost as
much as I wanted sunlight.)
He had thought that we would have more options for travel and hiding,
once Harry was delivered and not so dramatic a sight. That will have to
change our plans, with me about to become a similarly odd
It really fucking bites that there's so little magic known to
be safe in pregnancy. Disguise spells would be so straightforward...
Yet after Harry delivers, Severus cannot hide his amazement that my
pregnancy will bring forth another one of these, and this one his, and
it's as vulnerable as I've ever seen him.
He cannot replace Remy. And what he did for Harry and me does not repay
But he was willing to give all he had, to try.
It created a truce.
Even if he is in love with me, I do not know if more can be created.
But we are too few for me to try to keep up walls. Even emotional ones.
Especially emotional ones.
And I watch Harry as he babbles nonsense at his daughter, and cradles
her until she sleeps, and stares in wonder at this small, perfect human
being that he created, and I think, if something like that can be made
from such minute beginnings... then who is to say?
And I wonder if a day will come when we can risk the contact, and find
where Lucius Malfoy's true loyalties lie.
And if he and Harry will ever hold their daughter together.
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