Add Three Drops and Stir Widdershins

Disclaimer: Severus Snape, his job, and all his friends, belong to JKR.

Author's Notes:

This story has a warning flag, and this is the chapter it applies to. If reading about non-consenting sex is going to upset you, this would be a good time to step out for some fresh air. This chapter is a little short--I broke it up so that if you want to skip this part of the story, you can pop right in again at 9. Hope to see you there!

Chapter 8: "Add Three Drops and Stir Widdershins"

Rowan felt herself pulled through howling wind and swirling color, then suddenly dropped to her feet in a small room, along with Snape and the two Death Eaters. The Impediment Curse had worn off, but Rowan was now grasped firmly at each elbow by Boyle and Wart. These two let her go, then went through a small doorway into a larger room, leaving her, for the moment, alone with Snape. He took her arm and turned her to look at him. His expression was pained; she thought she saw pity and sorrow. He looked like he was about to say something, but they were distracted by sounds from the other room. There were apologies and audible groveling. Then Rowan heard a high-pitched male voice say "Crucio," followed by an agonizing sound of tortured screaming. Snape stiffened and gripped her arm tighter.

"There is no evading this. I will spare you what I can," she heard him say. That frightened her more than what she had heard, and guessed, so far.

In the other room, the screaming stopped. She heard the same voice saying: "I trust you will not fail me again," and further sounds of groveling, during which a rat-like man slunk in to fetch them.

"The Master wants you to bring her now, Snape."

Still gripping Rowan by the upper arm, Snape went through the doorway, pulling Rowan with him.

Rowan stared at her surroundings. A red-eyed being who could only be Lord Voldemort sat on a throne-like chair at the head of the room near the fireplace. An enormous snake lazed in the warm spot in front of the flames. A heavy wooden table had been placed in the center of the room. It was tall, more like a workbench than a table. Though she knew it was still daylight out for a brief while longer in this Northern latitude, the room was heavily draped with dark curtains, lit by candles and the flickering light of the fire in the hearth.

There was a group of Death Eaters, some in masks, others not. One masked, cloaked figure was shakily picking himself off the floor as Rowan came in. He then stepped to the back of the group and Rowan looked around the room. She recognized Lucius Malfoy from his visits to school, also the Lestranges and some of the others from pictures in the Daily Prophet accounts of the Azkaban breakouts and the battle at the Ministry of Magic. She supposed that was why they weren't bothering with masks: there wasn't much point.

Bellatrix Lestrange was holding a small cauldron in her gaunt but graceful hands. The potion inside had a not-quite-completed look about it--no smoking, no glowing, no mist pouring over the lip of the cauldron. It was rather more ominous that way.

While Rowan stared around, Snape mastered himself, to the best of his considerable ability. If the Dark Lord read the slightest hint of his true feelings now, he and Rowan would both be dead, and not quickly. He drew the occluding mask of his Death Eater identity across the surface of his mind. For both their sakes, he must not be weak.

Lord Voldemort looked at Snape with approval for the first time since Snape had returned, at the Dark Mark's summons, claiming loyalty.

"Ah, Snape, I see you have our final ingredient. As we discussed, Bella has begun the potion for you based on your written instructions. I was pleased to find that they agreed with Malfoy's." Snape sketched a brief sardonic bow in Lucius' direction. Lucius looked sour. "You have done well so far, Snape. Please allow me to compliment you on your taste," he said, leering at Rowan. "But then, you always liked tall women, did you not, Severus?" he said, glancing at Bellatrix Lestrange with a smug look.

Severus declined to mention that he had not chosen to bring Rowan here. He smiled nastily and bowed towards Bellatrix, who gazed languidly back at him. She, at least, was clearly looking forward to the proceedings, but then, she always had enjoyed watching pain, nearly as much as she enjoyed inflicting it.

At Voldemort's words, Rowan's eyes had widened, first with comprehension as she remembered Snape's 'shopping list,' then with fear as the implication dawned on her. She looked at Snape, but could find no trace of her snide, but fair, schoolmaster. Now all she saw was a lean hard form, old lines from an evil past drawn on his face.

Voldemort bent his piercing red gaze towards Rowan and spoke to her casually. "Well, my dear, welcome to our little party. I hope the entertainment is to your liking. At least you aren't among total strangers, since of course you know Professor Snape. In fact, the good professor is about to do me a favor. He is assisting me to prepare a very special potion this evening. For that matter," he said genially, "you, too, will have an essential part to play."

Merlin's Beard, he liked the sound of his own voice! Rowan thought, but she was not able to maintain her detachment at his next words:

"I need three drops of your blood to complete the potion. You are in luck, though: it will not be necessary to kill you. Perhaps you will even enjoy the process. But, probably not. Bind her."

At this command, Wart and Boyle pulled Rowan over to the table. They bent her forwards across it, brought her hands up above her head and bound them to the far legs of the table. Her hips extended over the edge of the table, and she could just brace herself on the floor with her toes.

She struggled as they bound her, but she quickly realized they were enjoying that. The Death Eaters circled around were watching intensely, one or two toying with their wands. The look on Bellatrix Lastrange's face was avid; she was clearly hoping they'd have an excuse to hurt her. Rowan stilled.

"Now, Snape, it is time to perform your task."

Severus stepped towards Rowan. He knew there was no way to avoid what must follow. If he refused, the Dark Lord would only command one of the other Death Eaters to rape the child for her virginity's blood. If he carried out his command, the Dark Lord might 'reward' him by giving Rowan to him for a plaything - he could then get her safely back to Hogwarts. She would hate him, but she would live - any other course led to her death. Trite phrases aside, he was pretty certain Rowan Bourne would prefer to live.

Rowan felt hands lift her robes and undo her clothing, followed by as cool a draft as the stuffy room had on offer. Get a hold of yourself, Bourne! Rowan told herself sharply. This is no time to panic. There is no way you are getting out of this, but that is no reason to panic. She peeked over her shoulder at Snape, who seemed to be having trouble with his buttons. She had a few moments longer at least. Turning her head the other way she looked at the cauldron with its nearly completed potion. What was it supposed to be? Dark Magic, obviously; trouble for Dumbledore and everyone on his side, certainly. Her thoughts flew in the next seconds, her fear made her a little silly, but her keen mind continued to analyze and make connections despite it.

Reft virgin's blood was required for the potion. Her blood. From her hymen. When Snape raped her. Which would happen as soon as he finished with those buttons. Funny thing was, a little while ago she'd been thinking of little else than her Potions professor and her chances of getting him to do more or less what he was about to. She stifled an almost hysterical giggle. Stop that. This is not funny, not even a little bit. So now what? She'd have been willing, if he'd asked. Did she hate him now? Oddly, no. She had known him, admired him too long; she still wanted to trust him although there seemed little reason to. She closed her eyes and lowered her head, letting her hair slide down to cover her face and hopefully mask her thoughts. Could she accept this? Could she trust him, even now? She felt Snape behind her, one hand on her backside. Bracing himself, without groping; his hand was warm and firm. She had watched his hands for hours in class. Somehow, she felt strength come to her through his hand and, strangely, a feeling of reassurance. She remembered the look on his face when they had arrived here. He had wanted to spare her. He had not intended this, she was sure. She could pity him.

Time's up. She squared her shoulders and braced herself against the table. Under the brown shadow of her hair, where no one could hear, she whispered her answer to the question that no one had asked her. "Yes, I will."

Ugh. The pain was worse than she had thought it would be. Rowan settled in to endure and tried to think about anything but what was happening. Thankfully, it was soon over. Breathing harshly, Snape stepped back. Rowan heard him adjust his clothes; she peeked out again. Malfoy stepped forward with a small glass vial and handed it to Snape. Snape took it, and with a flick of his wand the blood flew from Rowan's thighs into the container. He walked to Bellatrix Lestrange, who still held the potion cauldron between her two hands. Standing in front of her, Snape poured in three drops of the blood, then stirred widdershins seven times with his wand. The potion shimmered and gave off a dusky green vapor.

"The potion is complete, My Lord," Snape announced.

"Excellent, Snape. You may have the girl," he indicated Rowan, "as your reward for your faithful service tonight. I'm sure you have not forgotten the advantages of my company, all those long years at Hogwarts?" At this he laughed vilely.

Snape bowed and gave his thanks to Voldemort, then moved towards Rowan to unbind her. That moment, there was a crash and the door flew in. Outlined in the doorway, wand in his hand and in a towering rage, was Albus Dumbledore, with Fawkes on his shoulder. Flanking him were several Aurors -- among them Mad-Eye Moody (the real one she presumed), and a young woman with the oddest pink hair.

They burst through the door, hexes flying. Bellatrix still had the potion cauldron, now containing the completed Aversion Serum, in her hands. Moving as fast as a wildcat, she flung the entire contents onto Dumbledore, who was doused all over in envy-green liquid. Voldemort and the Death Eaters all froze to observe the effect.

Dumbledore's eyes flashed brightly as he advanced into the room. He gestured with his wand and a silvery disk emerged from the tip, which grew large enough to shield the table where Rowan and Snape stood, while his band of Order members rushed in under its cover.

Before Voldemort and his servants were certain what had happened, the pink-haired Auror and another female had swiftly released Rowan from the table with an unbinding charm, and helped her to stand. Meanwhile, Moody and another Auror hexed an unresisting Snape into immobility. The Death Eaters, by now, had recovered from their surprise and were forming to attack. Fawkes beat his wings and lifted from Dumbledore's shoulder; the remaining Aurors raised their wands to fight back, but Dumbledore stopped them with a swift order:

"No! There are not enough of us to win. Get Snape and the girl out of here. Quickly! I will follow when you are gone."

The Aurors gathered swiftly together, ensured all were in contact, and activated a Portkey. Rowan felt again the sharp pull behind her navel and the lifting, rushing, sensation as she was transported back to Hogwarts and safety.

Author's Notes: Not much humor here. What can I say? It's just not funny. The worst is over though. From here on, things start to get complicated...