A/N: Sorry the second chapter took a minute.
Let me know what you think!
...
Snape straightened his cravat as he followed Lucius Malfoy back inside Borgin and Burkes. His heart raced and fluttered like the wings of a caged dragon inside his chest.
It was time.
They entered the storeroom, which had been converted into a temporary Death Eater headquarters. Black-cloaked, masked, hooded wizards and witches had formed a ritual circle - eerie in the flickering candlelight – and in the center of the ring stood the Dark Lord himself.
Lord Voldemort was an imposing figure. His once-handsome features had begun to develop an unnatural, slightly inhuman quality. His chestnut hair was still thick and wavy, but his skin was now impossibly pale. The pupils of his dark eyes were serpentine in shape, his nose narrow and thin. His mouth smiled cruelly as he stood amidst his devoted followers, wand in hand.
And devoted, they were.
The Dark Lord's disciples were fanatical in their dedication to him and his cause. He had preyed upon them all, and they were willing and easy marks for his considerable charisma.
First, there were the purists, like Charlotte Wynters, Bellatrix and Rodolphus Lestrange, Lucius Malfoy, and many of the Sacred Twenty-Eight. They needed little to no persuasion in joining an effort to maintain the supremacy of those with untainted bloodlines. Their hatred of muggles and half-bloods was fueled by Voldemort, and they welcomed the opportunity to perpetuate the old ways.
Then there were the ambitious among them - hungry to gain power, riches, and notoriety. The Dark Lord had promised them gold, fame, and positions of prominence once the new world order was established, and they were willing to go to any lengths to acquire them.
And finally, the most ardent, most zealous believers of all. The marginalized. The outcast. The subjugated. The vulnerable, searching for protection and acceptance. These were the most dangerous devotees of the Dark Lord, the most desperate. They yearned to prove themselves worthy, burned to be found valuable in a world that had labeled them worthless. Motivated by fear, anger, hatred, self-loathing, and bitterness, they were particular targets of Voldemort as he assembled his army. He, too, had been marginalized and outcast. He, too, knew that deep longing for something greater than his circumstances had dictated. He sought those who - like him - had been overlooked and underestimated, knowing that they would cling to even the vaguest assurance of approval and inclusion.
Those like Severus Snape.
The Dark Lord raised his arms in invitation, and the Death Eaters parted. Lucius gently prodded Snape forward, then waved his wand over his own handsome face. His mask appeared, obscuring his visage, and he joined his brothers and sisters in the ring.
Severus approached the Dark Lord in the center of the circle as it enclosed around them again.
"Kneel," said Voldemort softly in a high, cold voice, and Severus did as he was bid.
As Snape knelt before his master and cast his eyes downward, he was not afraid.
Not at all.
In fact, he was quite proud. Finally, someone had acknowledged his worth. Someone had identified him as the prodigy he was. Someone had recognized his brilliant mind and his immense talent. Someone appreciated his extraordinary skill. Someone encouraged his proclivity for the Dark Arts and acknowledged his expertise. Someone had taught him to embrace his darkness, and not to fear it. Someone had finally seen who he was and what he could become. Someone had made him feel normal. Normal, for once in his miserable, misbegotten life.
No. Not normal.
Exceptional. He felt exceptional. And Severus Snape was exceptional! All his life he'd been made to feel like a freak. Ignored by his mother, beaten and abused by his Muggle father, insulted and humiliated by the Marauders at Hogwarts, but now that was all behind him. The Dark Lord knew Severus's mind was extraordinary, knew his power was remarkable, knew his abilities were special! Voldemort could provide the tools and guidance he needed to reach his full potential.
He was no longer that frightened, angry child, isolated and neglected. These dark witches and wizards had welcomed him into their fold, despite his half-blood status. They respected him. Befriended him. Listened to him. Many of them had been his Slytherin housemates, and now they were accompanying him on this quest for honor and glory. They were his family. The first and only family he had ever known. There was a sense of belonging that he'd never experienced before. He felt their support enveloping him, and the validation of the Dark Lord himself.
Severus had been chosen. Finally, someone had chosen him!
"Look at me," the Dark Lord commanded, and Severus lifted his obsidian eyes.
"I am pleased with your service, Severus. Very pleased."
"Thank you, my lord." Severus felt his pulse racing in his veins. It was finally happening! His dream was coming to fruition.
Voldemort crooked a long, thin finger underneath Snape's chin and studied the pale, handsome face.
"I see you, Severus. I see what's inside you. I see the greatness that dwells within you, and I intend to draw it out. I will make you great, Severus. Do you believe me?"
"Yes, my lord," he answered without hesitation, his voice strong and bold.
"Is it your true desire to serve me?" He barely spoke above a whisper, but in the silence of the ritual circle, every word rung with terrifying clarity.
"Yes, my lord. Serving you is my deepest desire."
"And you pledge your life and service to me unequivocally and eternally?"
"Yes, my lord. Unequivocally and eternally."
"And you will take the mark?"
"Yes, my lord. It would be my honor to bear your mark."
"Yes, it would your honor. The greatest honor you will ever know. And you take the mark with full understanding that once you take it, you are mine forever?"
"Yes, my Lord."
"And you are willing die for your master and our cause?"
"Yes, my lord. Without hesitation."
"Rise."
Snape stood to his full height, his chin high and proud, a fire burning behind his onyx eyes.
"Your arm, Severus."
Snape pulled up the sleeve of his robes and held out his left arm. The Dark Lord took his wrist tightly in his grip and pressed the tip of his wand to Severus's skin.
At first, he only felt a slight warmth, but then it seemed as if he was being branded with a glowing hot iron. The pain was like nothing he'd ever endured, even at the sadistic hand of Tobias Snape. He briefly wondered if his bone was melting, but he did not look down at the snake and skull that was slowly being etched onto his body as if by an invisible hand. No, he did not look down. His eyes never left those of his master, and he never even flinched.
Severus supposed he had his father to thank for that. He had learned to endure unspeakable pain long ago, and it was finally proving useful.
When at last the Dark Lord released his wrist, Snape dropped his gaze to the Dark Mark now indelibly burned onto him, the black ink stark against the white of his forearm. He felt the Dark Magic swimming through his bloodstream and it was a heady sensation. A smile spread across his features and he knelt again, looking up into the smug face of his master.
"Thank you, Master. Thank you."
"Don't disappoint me, Severus."
"Never, my lord."
...
"Another round," called Lucious Malfoy, and the barkeep nodded and waved in response.
After the ceremony, Malfoy, Mulciber, Avery, Nott, and several others had reconvened at the Hogshead Inn to celebrate Snape being drawn into the fold. They were all quite drunk, and Severus was glad of it. The alcohol served to numb the pain from the mark until he could return home and administer a salve to soothe it. He was lightheaded from the pain and the fire whiskey, but he had never felt more alive in his life.
He was a Death Eater. Part of something greater than himself. A sworn warrior for the Dark Lord's noble cause. He had friends. A family. The promise of a future.
Rookwood slapped him on the back, drawing him from his thoughts.
"Gods, you're a tough bastard, Snape. I never would have thought it of you. Mulciber wept like a child when he took the mark, and he's a great strapping bloke. You never even whimpered."
Snape smirked, fueled by alcohol and adrenaline. "Never felt a thing."
All the men laughed, and Severus took a deep pull from his glass, allowing the burn of the fire whiskey to distract him from the Dark Magic still stinging like a scorpion beneath his sleeve.
He heard the bell over the door ring and he watched with interest as Charlotte Wynters walked into the pub. She caught his eye and moved toward them.
"Oh, here we go," muttered Lucius.
"Fuck off, Malfoy." Snape retorted, emptying his glass, hypnotized momentarily by the swing of Charlotte's hips as she approached.
"Boys," she greeted them.
"Fancy a drink, Lottie?" asked Avery.
"No," answered Snape. "She isn't staying."
All the men snickered as Snape rose, reaching into his pocket for gold to pay his tab.
Malfoy waved him off. "On me, Severus."
Snape gave him a curt nod of thanks.
"Gentlemen," he said smugly.
He grabbed Charlotte's wrist, and with a loud crack, they were gone.
...
As soon as they apparated into Charlotte's bedroom, Snape covered her mouth with his, his tongue hot and demanding entry into her sweet, willing mouth. She moaned against him and wrapped her legs around his waist as he picked her up, his fingers bruising her flesh. He adjusted her weight in his arms and she clung to him, wet and desperate for him to fill her. He carried her to the bed and dropped her roughly to the mattress. He looked like a feral animal with lust burning in his eyes, his gaze taking in her beautiful, flushed faced.
Subconsciously, she opened her legs as he removed his cravat and began to undo the buttons of his frock coat.
He chuckled darkly, a dangerous expression on his face. "You're a fucking bitch in heat, aren't you? So ready to take my cock."
Her sapphire eyes widened with the thrill of fear, which only fueled her arousal. Her chest heaved and she bit her lip in anticipation. Snape threw his coat to the floor, then opened his shirt, exposing his scarred chest. She gasped, yearning for him.
"Hurry, Severus. Please!" she pleaded.
"Such a greedy little girl," he sneered.
Snape shed the rest of his clothes, then stalked toward her. Charlotte scrambled up the bed, her eyes locked onto his. He stood over her for a moment, staring down at her golden curls framing her lovely features and her supple breasts spilling over the neckline of her dress.
"Take it off. All of it," he ordered, and she did as she was told. He hungrily watched her undress and then lay on top of her, pinning her down with the weight of his body. His left hand gripped her throat as he slid his right hand between them, dipping his fingers into her slick folds.
"Fuck, you're so wet for me," he whispered.
His fingers started to move inside her while his thumb rubbed slow circles on her sensitive little nub. Her whimpers of pleasure encouraged him and he moved faster and faster until she was trembling beneath him. He could feel her climax building.
"Come for me, Lottie. Do it."
And she did, throwing her head back and grinding against his hand, chasing every last ounce of bliss from her orgasm. Charlotte moaned and shook beneath him, her nails digging into his back as he watched her face.
Before her body had stilled from her orgasm, he thrust himself inside her. She gasped in surprise, but wrapped her legs around him and quickly met his rhythm. He was pounding into her, hard and deep.
"I can still feel you coming around my cock. You're still twitching like a filthy little slut."
"Gods, yes!"
She moaned and closed her eyes, but he tightened his grip on her throat.
"Open your eyes. Look at me when I fuck you," he growled.
She opened her eyes and smiled at him, taking his face in her hands.
Gods, she loved the way he looked. That intense scowl, those dark eyes boring into her soul, his long, shining hair hanging down around his beautiful face.
"Severus," she whispered. "Come inside me."
He released her throat and kissed her then, his tongue delving into her mouth. He thrust harder, faster, and Charlotte began to quiver again.
"Give me another one, Lottie. I know you need it. Come for me one more time. Do it for me. Do it for me now."
Unable to last another second, she clenched around his hard length and let out a guttural, primal cry, her mouth open wide with unbridled ecstasy.
As she pulsed around him, he let himself go, hissing through his teeth as his body shook over hers. He poured himself into her, bucking his hips until his seed was dripping out of her and he was entirely spent.
They were both panting, and he lay on his back next to her, gasping for breath. She reached for him and he flinched, but then allowed her to nestle close to him and lay her head on his chest. He closed his eyes, relaxed and sated.
"Does it hurt, Severus? The Mark?"
"No. It doesn't hurt."
"Mine hurt for weeks after."
"Mmm."
"Severus?" She raised her head to look at his face.
"Mmm?"
"Stay with me."
He opened his eyes and held her gaze for a long moment, studying her as if trying to determine her motives. He reached up to trace her lower lip with his thumb, then nodded.
Charlotte smiled and kissed his chest before closing her eyes and falling asleep to the sound of Snape's heart beating beneath her cheek.
...
A\N: I've always wanted to delve into Snape's thought process of joining the Death Eaters, so I hope you like my take on it. I live for your votes and comments!