The Dark Room
She didn't intend to find herself in the dark room. She had been on her way to the Leaving Feast, the conclusion of her sixth year of school. Now she should be sitting with her friends, laughing, gazing at the red and yellow decorations dominating the hall. But instead she is in the dark room, alone with him.
He stands behind her, telling her that she should not move. He is a very important wizard, the kind who receives an invitation to the Hogwarts Leaving Feast, regardless of the years that have passed since he was last a student. He carries his importance like an oversized cloak; she can see it on his high forehead and in the expensive, heavy cane that aids no perceivable disability. He carries his importance in the disdainful glare he gives her, the daughter of muggles. He is an important wizard and she recognised this, out in the hall, when he grasped her wrist and she followed him to the dark room.
"Severus informs me that you have an interest in darkness, Lily Evans." His voice is smooth, infused with a strange mixture of acid and sugar, and Lily wonders if he employs potions and charms to maintain the effect.
Dark rooms. Dark magic. Dark rumours and stories. Dark secrets. Men so dark that blackness oozes from their pores . . .
"Yes."
She hears the careless wave of his cane, somewhere behind her head and a dim light invades the room.
She doesn't turn around.
She doesn't have to see him to know he is there. She can feel his breath somewhere around her left ear, can feel the heat from his body, (odd, because he is such a cold man.) She can hear him move.
His hand cups the side of her face, his fingers tapping a soft pattern on her cheek. "It's funny," One of his fingers wraps around a lock of her hair, twisting it and pulling at it gently. "The number of muggle borns who are drawn to darkness. There must be a deep need, burning inside those who cannot understand magic the way we do." He pulls at her robes and the loose shirt below, leaving her shoulder bare.
"What's your excuse then?"
He laughs and leans down to nibble at the side of her neck. She shivers, because she didn't expect this, and she should be drinking pumpkin juice right now. He whispers in her ear.
"You know the devil is a woman, don't you Lily?"
"What do you mean?" She gasps as he pulls her closer to him, at the angular outline of his body pressing through her thin summer robes.
"I mean," he kisses the top of her ear, "you're the type of girl who could kill men in a single glance." His cane falls to the stone floor with a clatter. "The devil is a woman." His thumb caresses her lips and she sucks at it eagerly. "With red hair and green eyes and skin as pale as the wing of a snowy owl." A hand rests on her hip as he continues. "The devil is a woman with a scar that dominates her face." He pulls at her robes and she wishes, momentarily, that she had worn a longer skirt underneath. "We could use your help, Lily."
"What," her voice catches in her throat, "what if I don't want to?"
"Well then . . ." Her robes fall to the ground, and his hand runs down the front of her shirt and skirt, glancing off her breasts and landing somewhere below her stomach. "It is likely that we will kill you."
She finds herself lifting her skirt and his hand pushes between her legs, finds herself lifting her head to meet his lips. He isn't soft or gentle like Severus; but Severus has never made her feel like this, has never made her want to scream. She moves and he slips his fingers into her suddenly.
"You're not as innocent as everyone thinks you are." His voice is cold and cruel as his fingers move quickly. She draws a sharp breath. She is surprised at how easy it all is.
He covers her mouth as she screams, holding her as she shudders, then allowing her to fall to the floor He tosses her robes at her and steps over her body, wiping his long fingers on a silver handkerchief.
"Enjoy the Leaving Feast, Lily." He pauses at the door, looking at a point somewhere over her head. "And give my regards to Severus, will you?"