Succumb (A Severus Snape Fanfiction)

|chapter three|

A/N: Nothing of great importance changed this chapter either. Mostly just some rewording. I just want to save some of you extra reading if you're just waiting for the big changes and new chapters!

Malfoy Manor was eerily quiet as I entered through the front door. The dead silence was causing the anticipation gnawing away in my gut to grow as I glanced around the empty foyer. The manor as never particularly crowded, but there was almost always a house elf to greet you at the door. I glanced around in search of any sign of life as I walked deeper into the house. 

"You're late," Narcissa Malfoy's voice rang out sharply from behind me.

I rolled my eyes and turned to face her. "Where is he?" I asked, referring to Voldemort.

"Waiting for you in the cellar," she smirked. The bitch knew I was in deep shit, and she made no attempt to hide the fact that she was loving every second of it. I gave her a nod, just starting to take off toward the cellar when she added, "You don't look so good, Kathryn. I do hope you aren't feeling under the weather, dear."

Her snarky tone suggested anything but concern as she eyed me up and down. "Oh don't worry, Narcissa. I'm quite well. I just had a late night is all," I replied politely, giving her a sweet smile. "I suppose Severus and I got a bit carried away celebrating his accomplishment."

The sour look that instantly washed over Narcissa's face made me wish I had a camera. "How nice," she said stiffly. Admittedly, it was a low blow, but she deserved it.

"It was very nice, indeed. I have some business to get to now, but have a lovely morning, Narcissa," I said, giving her one last grin before sauntering off to the cellar. If she wasn't such a bitch, I would have actually felt a little sorry for her. She had it bad for Severus, and he didn't return her feelings. I allowed myself a small moment to think about things Severus had said to me before I left my apartment, the memory distracting me from whatever awaited downstairs.

The cellar, unlike the upstairs of the house, was was bustling with noise. Lucius, Atteberry, and Bellatrix stood nearby speaking to each other. Agonized screams bounced against the walls, filling me with a longing that I so often had those days. It was delicious, and it made me feel guilty for thinking so. I couldn't resist walking right toward the sound, though.

I didn't bother acknowledging the others as I passed by. I made it a point to ignore them as often as possible. Making friends with them didn't interest me in the slightest, and I was sure the feeling was mutual. A lot of them simply didn't trust me, and the others hated my guts because of all the attention I received from Voldemort. If they only knew just how badly I didn't want to be the lap dog they all so pathetically longed to be.

The excitement beginning to bubble inside of me was a reminder of the best perk of the job, though. I knew it was wrong. I knew it was bad, and that I was bad for looking forward to such awful things. Though this time thoughts of Severus kept finding their way back into my mind, washing me in guilt as I stepped into the cell where the screams originated from.

A man thrashed against the cold stone floor, his cries of anguish so loud now that my ears rang. Voldemort stood nearby, wand in hand as he watched the man suffer. There was a gleam in his eye that told me he enjoyed the sight immensely. His gaze shifted to me, and he lowered his wand, instantly ceasing his attack on the man. "You're late," Voldemort commented.

"I'm sorry, my lord. I assure you that it won't happen again."

"Make sure that it doesn't. Next time I won't be so lenient," he said. "This is Atticus Fimble. There is evidence that suggests he is a supporter of the Order. He doesn't look like much, but his mind is well trained and his will is strong. No matter how much I poke around, I cannot get past his mental walls. But you, my dear, should have no trouble at all."