Author's Note: So sorry it has taken me a minute to update (especially with such a cliffhanger). Work has been crazy.
Please comment and let me know what you think.
I appreciate you all!
...
"Will you take the Dark Mark?"
Voldemort's red eyes bored into Madeline's as she returned his stare, a trickle of panic prickling her scalp.
Her mind was reeling. She knew she had to think quickly. Of course she didn't want it, but she had to play the part. If she hesitated even a second more, she'd give herself away. He could hurt her. Torture her. Kill her. Or worse, hurt Severus. She couldn't allow it. She would do anything to keep her husband safe. She would not be the reason Voldemort discovered his true allegiance. She would protect him at all costs.
She'd have to do it. She'd have to take the Dark Mark.
With her mind occluded to the absolute hilt, Madeline fixed a sweet and submissive expression on her face, smiling up at the Dark Lord.
"Of course, my lord. Though I can hardly believe I deserve it, it would be an honor to bear your mark," she said. "You are too gracious."
A cold and chilling grin spread across his hideous face.
"I am pleased, Madeline. Very pleased." He lowered his wand and turned to Snape. "Severus. Come here and give me your arm so that I may call the others to me. This requires a celebration."
Snape was so terrified that his face had actually gone numb, though he remained outwardly calm. His mind was spinning as rapidly as Madeline's. He could not allow this. He would not let her be marked. Not his beautiful, precious girl. He was incredibly relieved that she had not faltered or hesitated; he had taught her well. But how could he prevent this without exposing them both as spies? He heard the Dark Lord asking him to show him his own mark so he could summon the rest of the Death Eaters.
Snape moved toward Voldemort, unbuttoning his cuff and rolling up his sleeve. He felt as if he were floating outside of his own body looking down on himself. He was trapped in his worst nightmare. Almost in a trance, he held his bare arm out to his master, unable to look at his wife.
He was failing her. He had sworn to protect her, but he was failing her. He thought he might lose consciousness.
God, he didn't think he could stand to watch the mark being burned into her perfect alabaster skin. Would she scream as the ink stained her arm with the serpent and skull?
He remembered exactly how it felt when he had taken it himself. The pain had been excruciating, but he had borne it with pride. He'd hardly flinched, then. His new brothers had embraced him, impressed with his steely resolve. He remembered Lucius grinning like the Cheshire Cat and slapping him on the back, and Mulciber shoving a glass of fire whiskey into his hand with a conspiratorial smirk. He supposed he had his father to thank for his exceptional tolerance for pain.
Madeline, too, had an unusually high threshold, and for the same reason. Her mother had tortured her, but nothing she'd done would prepare her for this. She'd be marked forever with a dark and evil curse. He loathed the thought of her suffering, and it was his fault.
All his fault.
And he hated himself for it.
The Dark Lord's icy, skeletal fingers closed around Snape's wrist and his wand slowly drew ever closer to his mark. As soon as it touched his skin, every Death Eater would instantly join them to witnesses his wife being branded by Voldemort. A rage rose up in him, then.
No. He thought. No. Not her. I will not permit this. I will not fail her. The only marks on her body will be mine. Mine!
"My Lord..." said Snape smoothly.
Voldemort paused, his wand hovering over Snape's mark. "Yes?"
"While there is no greater privilege than to take the Dark Mark - and I know my wife is only too eager to do so - perhaps it might be... ah... prudent... to... wait."
"Wait?" Voldemort snapped.
"Yes, my lord. If Madeline takes the mark, it might be difficult to conceal. The students might see it if her sleeve rides up as she cares for them in the hospital wing, or Madame Pomfrey could discover it, as they work so closely together. She would most certainly run to Dumbledore straight away and we would all be revealed."
Voldemort released Snape's wrist but did not respond, clearly considering Snape's words.
Snape continued calmly. "Is it not your wish that I remain at Hogwarts for as long as possible so that I may continue to gather information? To remain close to Dumbledore and the Potter boy? I would never want to compromise the mission."
"Perhaps you are right, Severus," Voldemort said thoughtfully.
Relief flooded Snape's body and the vice gripping his heart released its hold.
Feeling emboldened, Snape looked at his wife, who was watching him carefully. "I'm sorry to disappoint you, darling. I know taking the mark has been your ambition for quite some time now, but I do not believe it is the right moment. The mission must take priority. You understand, don't you?"
"I am disappointed, of course, Severus, but I understand," lied Madeline easily, planting a slight pout on her lips. "Though I thank you, my lord, for the very great compliment."
Gods, what a cool little liar I've created, thought Snape. But it has saved her. It has saved her!
"Be patient, my love," cooed Snape, reaching over to stroke her cheek. "Our master will soon rise to full power once more and we will be free to proudly display his symbol."
"Indeed," crowed the Dark Lord smugly. "Indeed."
...
Madeline linked her arm through her husband's as they walked out of the Riddle home in Little Hangleton and made their way to the main road in the darkness. She knew not to speak until they could be certain they were alone and safe, but she was vibrating with the euphoria of having escaped a horrible fate.
Snape had saved her from taking the Dark Mark. Her Severus had saved her!
They moved in silence to the end of the crooked little walkway which was overgrown with weeds and tall wildflowers. The only light emanated from the half-moon, which was partially obscured by heavy clouds, and she held onto his tense, rigid body to prevent herself from stumbling on the rocky path. His strides were long and purposeful, and she struggled to keep up with him.
She looked up into his face, which was breathtakingly, terrifyingly beautiful in the moonglow. His brow was furrowed harshly, and his teeth were clenched so hard it was a wonder he hadn't shattered them. A muscle ticked in his jaw, and a deep frown pressed his lips into an impossibly thin line. He looked furious as he stared straight ahead into the pitch-black night, and anger radiated from his being like the flaming breath of a Chinese Fireball dragon. She knew he was hating himself for the millionth time for putting her in danger. She squeezed his arm, desperate to comfort him. Without looking at her, he covered her hand with his in acknowledgement.
When they reached the apparation point, she was breathless from matching Snape's urgent pace. He abruptly grabbed her, pulling her body flush with his, and wrapped his arms around her. His grip was so tight that it squeezed the air from her lungs, and she squeaked in surprise.
"Ready?" he whispered.
"Yes," she replied.
And they were gone.
...
Madeline suddenly found herself in the living room of their cottage in Hogsmeade, safe in her husband's embrace. It was dark - only a sliver of moonlight peeking through the curtain to illuminate the room. She was still dizzy from apparating, and she closed her eyes as she steadied herself against him. Snape pressed her to him, their faces hidden in shadow.
When her nausea had waned, she clutched his robes, trying to discern his features in the blackness. "Thank you, Severus. Thank you. Thank you for stopping him from giving me the Dark Mark."
"Madeline," breathed Snape. "Oh, my sweet girl."
He fell to his knees, clasped his arms around her waist, and buried his face in her stomach. "Oh, gods, Madeline. Forgive me. Please, please forgive me." His tortured voice broke her heart.
She cradled his head against her and leaned down to kiss the top of his head.
"Shh," she soothed. "Shh. Nothing to forgive, my love. Nothing to forgive. "
"No!" he exclaimed, pulling away and looking up into her eyes. "I am placing you in terrible danger. He almost branded you with the mark, Madeline! It is permanent! There is no way to break the curse! Gods know I have tried! I have tried!"
His voice broke and she was afraid he would begin to cry. The pain on his perfect features tore at her soul.
"Severus..."
"No!" He interrupted. "No! I have brought you nothing but suffering and fear and anxiety! Madeline, if he had marked you... if he had harmed you..."
She knelt with him, then, taking his face in her hands. "Stop. Stop it right this instant. He hasn't harmed me. He didn't mark me. You saved me! You saved me, Severus, you clever, wonderful, beautiful man."
His eyes shone with unshed tears and his hands went to her hips, but he remained silent.
"You saved me. Did you not?"
"Oh, Madeline..." His face contorted in anguish.
"You saved me. You saved me, Severus. And even if he had marked me, would you love me any less?"
"No. Of course not. Nothing could ever make me love you less. Nothing."
"Then it's alright, isn't it? Please, Severus. Just hold me. Let me love you. Let me thank you."
He embraced her and they held each other for a long while, taking comfort in the closeness they both craved, their thoughts filled with the gravity of what had almost come to pass only moments earlier.
When Snape felt Madeline shiver, he kissed her cheek and stood, pulling her up with him.
"Let's stay here tonight, my love. I don't want to share you. I don't want to see or speak to anyone else. I don't want to do anything but make love to you and hold you in my arms until you fall asleep. I don't want to be Dumbledore's puppet or the Dark Lord's servant. I don't want to be anything but your husband and lover. We're safe here and I want to hide you away and keep you for myself."
She nodded and he took her hand, leading her to the bedroom. It was small, dark, and cozy, and Madeline had decorated it with an emerald green comforter on the four-poster made of ebony wood. Matching ebony night stands sat on either side of it. Sapphire-colored throw pillows rested invitingly against the headboard, and a thick, black blanket lie folded neatly at the foot of the bed. A rug with a jewel-toned pattern lay on the floor and an elegant silver sconce with ivory candles hung on one wall, while a wardrobe stood against another. Identical arrangements of seasonal wildflowers in crystal vases adorned an ebony bureau and dresser, and an oxblood leather chair sat in the corner next to a little table with a reading lamp.
Snape drew his wand from his sleeve and lit a fire in the fireplace, bathing the room in a gentle glow, then beckoned to her. She went to him, and he cupped the back of her head. He bent and kissed her deeply, tasting her, loving her as his lips moved tenderly yet insistently over hers. He kissed her as if it were the last time he'd ever touch her, aching and hungry. She leaned into him and stood on tip toes to wrap her arms around his neck, melting against his body.
"I love you," she whispered, panting.
"I love you. You are everything to me," he replied.
He undressed her slowly, as if he were unwrapping a precious gift, smoothing his large hands over her soft skin as he exposed it to the cool air. She was trembling for him as he led her to the bed. She climbed under the covers and watched him remove his cloak and hang it in the wardrobe. He turned and stared into her eyes as he untied his cravat, then unbuttoned his coat and shirt.
"Please," she begged. "Hurry. I can't wait anymore. I need to feel you on top of me."
He smiled at her and hurriedly pulled off his clothes, laying them neatly across the leather chair before joining her in the bed. She opened her legs and reached for him, and he lay on top of her, covering her mouth with his and groaning with desire.
"Is this what you need, my darling?" he murmured, his voice heavy with lust. He nuzzled her neck with his nose. "You like to feel my weight pinning you to the bed?"
"Gods, yes," she breathed, writhing beneath him.
He chuckled and reached between them to touch her. "Oh, my beautiful girl is so ready for me. So wet, you are. So wet for your husband. So good for me. I love you, my sweet one. I love you."
She moaned for him and he entered her smoothly, sighing in pleasure as her warmth sheathed him. They moved together as one, their hips moving in perfect tandem. He made love to her slowly, unhurried, kissing her, stroking her, petting her, holding her gaze and whispering pretty words to her until she unraveled beneath him, and he filled her with his love and his heart and his soul and his seed.
When the last tremors of their climax had run their course, he lay next to her and cradled her body to him, holding her as if he'd never let her go. They lay in silence until they both recovered, and then Madeline kissed his neck. He inhaled sharply and her hand slid between his legs to find him already hard again. She gently pushed him onto his back and climbed on top of him, impaling herself on his stiff cock. Her mouth opened and she tossed her head back in sheer bliss as she rode him. He grasped her silky thighs while he watched her move above him. No words passed between them – only the sounds of raw pleasure until they came again.
Exhausted, Madeline collapsed onto Snape's chest and he kissed her forehead, enfolding her in his arms. She fell asleep listening to the steady beat of his heart, but he lay awake for hours, listening to her breathe and thanking every god in existence that he had been able to save her from taking the Dark Mark.
...