Splayed out on a Slytherin common room couch, his feet propped on a low table, Glenna’s head on his lap, Severus tried to read the book balanced precariously on the edge of his thigh with one hand. His other arm draped lightly around the girl, who at the moment was running her hands under the sleeve of his robe to caress his left arm, sending tingles up his spine. It distracted him in a way he couldn’t definitely place as good or bad.

A rush of boisterous voices headed their way from the entrance, whence the Quidditch team came crashing after practice. Two of them appeared perturbed at one another; they shoved and jostled as they argued their way down the hallway. A couple more followed them, tossing in their take on whatever event had caused the rift, while the remaining boys threw their sweaty bodies on the sofas and chairs.

“You guys stink,” said Glenna bluntly, not even looking at them.

“That’s not what you said when I worked up a sweat with you!” crowed one of the Beaters, seated in a chair beside Glenna, laughing.

His mirth died in his throat. Glenna’s wand was out, pointed menacingly close to his cheek. Her tone brooked no nonsense. “You know very well I was never with you, Rosier. Tell everyone the truth.”

“Fine, I wasn’t,” he admitted sulkily.

“Now apologize to me.”

“For what?” he exclaimed.

“Damn it, Evan, just do it! I’m trying to concentrate!” Severus barked.

“Sorry.” Evidently she wouldn’t be appeased so easily. Her eyes had narrowed to slits and the wand jammed right into his face. “I’m sorry, Glenna, for implying you’re a slut. Happy?”

Glenna stowed her wand in her robes. “That’ll do.”

Evan swore under his breath, got up, and stalked away. Regulus Black chuckled at his retreating back. As Seeker for the Slytherin team, he was held in high regard by even the seventh years, whose disdain for anyone younger was generally all-encompassing. He relaxed, kicked his feet up on the table opposite Severus, and silently observed the bookworm with his girlfriend. Unlike his brother Sirius, he not only felt no animosity for Snape, he genuinely liked him. While they could hardly be called close friends, there’d never been any hostility between them, and they got along fine. Frankly, he didn’t understand why Sirius insisted on tormenting the poor guy, who’d done nothing to deserve it. But then, Sirius wasn’t quite normal, so maybe he was the one who needed pity.

A flash of something under the sleeve caught Reg’s eye and he bent forward with interest. Glenna’s fingers dancing over Severus’ skin, stroking the dark area, revealed it again, much more clearly this time, and Regulus inhaled sharply.

“Snape, can I ask you something?” Regulus glanced around at the company in the room.

“I believe you just did,” answered Severus, still trying to read his book.

Regulus came over to him, bent over to his ear, and whispered, “Are you a Death Eater?”

Severus stopped all pretense of studying. From relatively emotionless, his face became downright blank. “Why?”

“Your girlfriend’s playing with the Mark,” Regulus grinned.

Oh, well, it wasn’t any great secret, although Severus worried about the professors or Dumbledore finding out. He’d prefer not to have to defend his action. “I am,” he said proudly, though not so loud as to attract attention. “I got the Dark Mark not long before this term started.” If he was hoping to impress the younger boy, he succeeded. Regulus’ eyes lit up and Snape almost thought the kid might break into a jig.

“Can you take me? I want to be a Death Eater, too—”

Snape cut him off. “Glenna, would you excuse us? We need to discuss things not meant for young ears.” He made a furtive gesture at a group of first years huddled by the fire.

“Are you coming back?”

“Of course.” He got up, not without her first latching onto him for a kiss. Even though he’d gotten used to being pawed and smooched in public, it continued to embarrass him…in a good way, for sure. Severus led the way to his room, which was already occupied by Nott and Mulciber. “You guys get out, will you? I want to talk to Black.”

“About what?” asked Nott.

“If I told you, I may as well let you stay,” explained Severus impatiently.

“Okay,” said Nott, making as if to sit back down.

Regulus smirked and sidled up to him. “He’s going to teach me how to make you love me,” he cooed.

All the boys laughed except Nott, who jumped up, grumbling. When they’d left, Severus threw a Silencing Charm over the room, then turned to Regulus. “Why do you want to be a Death Eater?”

Reg shrugged and grinned. “So my family will see I believe in their values and they won’t disown me. And all the guys are always talking about how cool it is to be one, how we can change the world.”

Severus didn’t respond right away. He wasn’t quite sure how the Master might take that answer. Yet, his own reasons for joining, while vastly different, had little or nothing to do with pledging his life to the Master, either. “Have you talked to anyone about this?”

“No. I hear Mulciber, Rosier, and Nott are all hoping to join, but haven’t yet. You’re the only one I know who went through with it, not counting those blokes who graduated last year.”

“So you don’t even understand what it’s all about,” said Severus with a slightly superior air, which was deflated immediately by Black’s query.

“What’s it like to be a Death Eater?”

“I don’t really know, either,” confessed the older boy. “The Dark Lord hasn’t given me an assignment or anything yet.”

“How come you made Nott and Mulciber leave?” asked Regulus. “I’ll bet they’d like to hear about your experience of meeting Voldemort.”

“Don’t say his name!” Severus clipped automatically. No one outside their group was deemed worthy to utter the name of the greatest wizard of all time. Even within the group, many feared to speak it. “I told them to leave because I like you, Reg. I’d be remiss not to warn you as I was warned.”

“About what?”

“The Dark Lord. The one who presented me to him—”

“Lucius Malfoy, right?” smiled Regulus smugly. “My cousin, Bellatrix, said he’d brought a kid to the Master not long ago, but she didn’t say your name.”

“Yes, Malfoy,” acknowledged Severus. “He said he’s been tortured with the Cruciatus by Lord Voldemort; many—perhaps all—of the followers have been. He told me to make sure of my mind, because there’s no going back. The Master will own you as he does us all, Reg, and you must obey without question or the Master might kill you. Your life won’t belong to you anymore. Is that what you want?”

Regulus hesitated. Naturally it wasn’t what he wanted, but did he really have a choice? He needed to prove himself to his family. Could serving and obeying him be so much different from obeying his parents and bowing to their wishes? They’d not tortured him or anything, but they had Sirius before he ran away; if he didn’t do something, he might be next. He nodded. “Yeah, it’s what I want. Can you take me?”

“I’ll have to contact the Dark Lord to set up a meeting. He’ll ask you questions and probably probe your mind. Are you absolutely certain? If you change your mind, I won’t think less of you,” Severus persisted. If Lucius had thought it important enough to drive home these points, it was the least he could do for Regulus.

“I’m sure!” Regulus snapped. What did he expect—a signed, notarized parchment declaring his intentions? Maybe he’d have been better off asking Bella to take him, only she’d lord it over him forever. No, Severus was the better choice. “Please, Severus, I have to.”

“Alright then. I’ll let you know when.” Severus removed the silence bubble. He clapped Regulus on the shoulder as he walked past on his way back to the common room. The Dark Lord would be very pleased at how quickly he’d found another follower, even if technically the new recruit had come of his own accord and Snape hadn’t actually done a thing. He wished very much to please the Master, to be an integral part of this swelling movement about to overtake the wizarding world. Only with the Death Eaters was he accepted as an equal, regardless of blood status. Finally, he belonged somewhere.

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

Voldemort was moving…again. It wasn’t as if it were a terrible hardship, since his belongings were minimal, and he’d never been accustomed to the creature comforts. Moving, per se, was quite simple once he’d located a new out-of-the-way dump to live in. It was the idea of being forced to leave that rankled.

The Muggle nosiness had begun almost immediately after he’d settled in Florida; it had increased to the point where trespassers on the property were a daily occurrence. Bellatrix and her relatives had participated in a few Muggle hunts, and unfortunately the missing persons and body count were bringing unwelcome attention. Should he destroy the lot of them as they deserved, Voldemort would only be drawing the attention of the wizard population upon himself, and he most disliked the notion of broadcasting his whereabouts. And so, having sealed the underground chamber, he was going to Scotland.

Lucius Malfoy wasn’t quite sure why he’d been summoned here. If anything needed to be relocated or established in the new location, Bella, Rodolphus, or Rabastan was perfectly capable of doing it. He knelt before the Master, sweating beneath his robes and mask, waiting to be told what to do.

“Lucius, you know where our new base of operations is?” asked Voldemort, rather unnecessarily. If he didn’t know, he was a raging moron, and that was hardly the way he’d describe young Malfoy.

“Of course, my Lord.”

“Good. My task for you is straightforward enough: bring me some things not found in our magical world.” He produced a small piece of parchment on which were written several items.

Lucius looked over the list, furrowing his brow and frowning. What the hell was peanut butter? And Oreos? “My Lord, what are these things?”

“Food, Malfoy. I became quite fond of them growing up in a filthy Muggle orphanage.”

“But—but…” was all Lucius could manage before his voice failed him. This was—no, it was too horrible to contemplate—Muggle food? And he was charged with somehow finding it and bringing it to the Dark Lord? “But…where am I to ever find such—delicacies?” he croaked, marginally avoiding saying ‘such monstrosities’.

“In a Muggle supermarket,” said Voldemort, eyeing the man closely. He stretched out a hand to wave away Lucius’ mask, revealing the horror etched on Malfoy’s fine features. It gave him a secret, deep pleasure to watch the boy squirm under the command. “You’re a businessman, I’ll leave it to you to acquire the funds.”

“But, my Lord!” he beseeched, for all the world seeming on the verge of tears. “Couldn’t Bella do it?”

Voldemort had to stifle an amused snort. “Bellatrix has a certain way with Muggles, Lucius, which is why we’re moving, as you might recall.”

“Yes, my Lord,” he answered miserably.

“While the Muggle population is assuredly beneath us, you must obtain the skills to navigate in their society in the event you’re ever in the position of needing to do so,” explained the Dark Lord. “I have high aspirations for you, Lucius. Don’t fail me.”

“I won’t, Master. Thank you for your confidence in me.” Lucius ducked his head. It was a test of his loyalty and resourcefulness, of course! Lord Voldemort wasn’t punishing him, he was granting him the opportunity to show himself worthy, which was precisely what he would do! Clutching the parchment damp from his sweaty fist, he rose and bowed. “I will succeed, my Lord. Count on me!”

At a near run he exited the farmhouse and Disapparated. First order of business was to find Muggle money, and the best place for that was Diagon Alley.

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

They were all dressed so strangely in their hideous Muggle attire. Garbed in a heavy cloak over his ordinary, expensive robes, Lucius stood in the car park and gaped at a mother carrying a child in one arm and a suitcase—no, a large bag of some sort—in the other as she approached the double glass doors. Astonishingly, the doors drew aside to let her in. Perhaps she was a witch after all!

“Mummy, look at the funny man!”

Lucius turned his head, his loose hair blowing wildly in the stiff, cold breeze. Another woman with three tots clinging to her walked right by with a vocal admonition to the child to watch his mouth when strange men might hear him. Lucius had the distinct desire to hex her—and the little ones, too, just on principle. All at once he felt a tug on his trouser leg and looked down. One of the blasted urchins had attached itself to his leg! Eyes widening in revulsion, he shook his leg vigorously, unable to detach the child.

“Get it off,” he hissed. Then louder, more frantically, “Get it off!”

“Willy, let the poor man be,” ordered the woman. When the boy ignored her, she stomped over, grabbed him by the arm, and dragged him into the store, whispering loudly about the dangers of vagrants. Once more the door automatically parted.

Heart racing from the close encounter with the Muggle child, Lucius took a tentative step toward the store, hand gripping his wand. Another step. Another. The doors opened for him. “Ah-hah!” he said to himself. They weren’t witches, it was some type of Muggle magic. Well, not magic, but…oh, who gave a rat’s ass!

He strode inside, only to find himself at a total loss. Never in his life had he been given the lowly chore of a house-elf—shopping for food! It would have been bad enough among normal people, but here among them was positively deplorable, although at least he wouldn’t have to endure the shame of wizards knowing about it. That was some comfort. One hand in his pocket fingered the paper notes these Muggles used for currency instead of the proper galleons. Primitive beasts.

All around him people were pushing wheeled baskets loaded with what he assumed must be food, for the way it was packaged gave quite a bit of room for doubt. He wrenched one of the baskets out of the line and shoved it ahead of him. There, now that was food—fruits and vegetables in open bins. But was it on the list? He peered at the parchment again.

Peanut butter. Well, it said butter, maybe it was a brand of butter, wherever that might be. If he walked around the market long enough, he was bound to come across it. Oreos. No clue whatsoever. Macaroni. Sounded like an Italian gigolo. Was it possible the Dark Lord was jerking him around and none of this stuff was real? Maybe, but better safe than sorry. Cheetos. Okay, this was getting more ludicrous by the second. That wasn’t even a good fraud, it was a pitiful play on cheetah! The last item on the list: burritos. If his Spanish tutoring had been correct, that meant little donkeys. This was a huge, ridiculous joke on him! If he weren’t afraid of the Master’s wrath, he’d have left immediately.

A Muggle man dressed in a smock with the words Eat More, Pay Less emblazoned across the front noticed Lucius’ apparent confusion and stepped over to him. Lucius’ head swiveled at the motion beside him; he read the slogan, grimacing to himself that the man took the words far too literally. The smock stretched so tightly across his belly it seemed a wonder it remained in one piece.

“Sir, are you alright? Can I help you?”

“I highly doubt it,” Lucius growled. The Master expects you to navigate the Muggle world, he reminded himself. “Is any of this actually food?” he blurted and thrust the parchment into the man’s hand.

The Muggle scanned the list. “Oh, yes. Aisles four and six will get you everything but the burritos. They’re in the frozen section.”

“You have frozen donkeys in this place?” gasped Lucius, his normally composed mien registering shock. What kind of barbarians were these Muggles?

The man made a strange face and backed away, pointing at the numbers hanging at the end of each aisle. Lucius snatched his list and marched down to Aisle Four. After diligently searching for butter and finding none, he decided to retrace the aisle as he read the names on the packages. There it was—peanut butter! Loads and loads of it! Oh, no…chunky or creamy? To be on the safe side, he took three of each. Further down he spied boxes of macaroni: with cheese or plain? Ten boxes of each.

Feeling very pleased with himself, he pushed his cart over to Aisle Six. This time he started off reading the names on the boxes, bags, and strange crinkly noisy packages. To his surprise, there they were. Cheetos. He gave a slight, satisfied grin; they did have a childish facsimile of a cheetah drawn on the bag. He dropped six bags each of regular and spicy hot into the basket. On the other side of the aisle were mountains of various types of cookies, and nestled among them were the brownish-black disks laden with cream. Four bags each of regular and double stuff went into the cart.

He shuddered. Now he had to endure the frozen animal section. To his bewilderment, he didn’t find a single corpse in the entire area. Long, careful searching brought him to some small packages marked ‘Burrito’. He took five of each flavor, wondering why they were called donkeys if they contained beef, chicken, and beans.

Now to pay for this bounty. At the front of the store he’d noticed people waiting in lines and handing over notes like those in his pocket, so he wheeled the cart up to the shortest line. No one spoke to him, nor to anyone else, they stood like zombies awaiting reanimation. No matter, he hardly expected civility from the pathetic creatures. It was his turn. Lucius shoved his basket up so the checkout girl could see what was in it.

“Ain’t cha goin’ to empty it?” she asked, snapping her gum in her teeth.

“Isn’t that your job?” Lucius retorted, smiling grimly.

The girl rolled her eyes and blew a bubble. She leaned over and began to pick up the items from his cart, scanning them and bagging them rapidly. “The total comes to seventy-four pounds.”

Lucius gasped for the second time today. Although he hadn’t worked out the exchange rate for pounds to galleons, and he could afford it nevertheless, highway robbery was highway robbery! “For this? What an overpriced bunch of crap!”

“You want it or not?” sneered the girl. She might’ve made a good Slytherin.

It was for the Master, after all. Lucius removed the wad of bills from his pocket and counted out seventy-four. The girl took the money, then leaned close to whisper, “You’re really fit! I get off work in an hour. Wanna meet?” She raised her eyebrows hopefully.

Lucius fairly cringed in disgust. “I’m married,” was all he could say.

“Oh, well.” She handed him the bags, letting her own fingers brush his. “If you change your mind…”

He fled before she had time to say more. He seriously hoped the Master would appreciate the anguish he’d gone through for him!

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

Sirius pounced the moment he saw Severus leaving class. He’d followed him here and waited patiently, occasionally ducking into the bathroom to avoid passers-by. As usual, Snape was the last to leave, which made things considerably easier for Sirius.

“Snivellus, I want to talk to you!” he demanded.

“How peculiar. I don’t care to talk to you,” Severus rejoined, walking past him. His hand automatically went to his wand.

Sirius grabbed him by the shoulder and spun him around, coming face to face with Severus’ wand. He dropped back a bit, yet refused to yield. “I talked to Regulus today. He said you’re one of those Death Eaters now.”

“That would be none of your business, Black.”

“It is if you’re planning to make my brother one!”

Severus sneered, enjoying Sirius’ insane rant. “It’s heartening to see you give me such credit. I couldn’t make him one if I wanted to.”

“You agreed to take him to that evil bastard!” Sirius shouted.

“He’s sixteen, he’s old enough to make his own decisions, just as you made yours,” Severus said evenly. “If I don’t accompany him, no doubt your cousin, Bella, would be happy to do so.”

“You’re doing this to spite me!” seethed Sirius.

“Not everything revolves around you Gryffindorks,” Severus spat back. “As much as harming you would give me pleasure, this has nothing to do with you! Unless you count the fact that Regulus feels the need to prove himself to your parents because of you, to show them he’s not a blood traitor like you. In that case, I suppose you ought to be blaming yourself!” He backed away from Sirius, wand still trained on him.

“Don’t do it, Snape, I’m warning you.”

“Or what? You’ll attack me, you’ll torment me, you’ll make my life a living hell? Too late for that, I think.” Severus continued to back up, eyes steady on Sirius, his voice low and calm. “I have a warning of my own, Black. I’ve learned a lot of Dark Magic, and I’m not afraid to use it. Stay away from me. I’m sick of your bullshit, and I won’t take it anymore.”

“What are you gonna do?”

“If I told you, that would ruin the surprise,” said Severus. “Now leave.”

Black whirled and flounced away in a fury. When he was gone, Severus hurried off the other way, his legs shaking under him, his breath coming hard. He had no idea what he’d do to Black, but if the jerk believed he meant him severe injury, perhaps he’d leave him be for once. He could always hope; he truly didn’t want to have to hurt him.