Disclaimer: Harry Potter and company are the creations and property of JKR. I'm just playing around in a totally non-profit way. The title is from Skunk Anansie's song "Secretly." This is my first PK story, but it has also been posted elsewhere. It starts out R/Hr but ends up H/Hr. Reviews appreciated. =)
Warning: This story is fiction, and it's rated NC-17 for a reason. It does not contain rape nor advocate non-consensual sex in real life. But because of the plot and the subject matter, certain scenes may come close. If this disturbs you, or you're underage, or dark fics are not your thing, stop right now.
PROLOGUE:
Severus Snape was nervous. He hid it well, but there was an unusual briskness in his pace and a deep line in the middle of his forehead that almost cleaved his brow. Only one person - if you could still call him a person at this point - made Snape nervous.
The doors to a darkened room creaked open as he approached. As soon as he was through them, he sank to his knees. "Lord Voldemort."
"Severus." The low voice was like ice even in the haughty potion master's veins. "I have heard some disturbing news. There are some who say you betrayed me."
Even though he could barely see, Snape carefully kept his head down. There were times when Voldemort did not want anyone to look upon him. "My lord," he protested, "I slew your enemy! I helped the Death Eaters escape."
"You were not supposed to kill Dumbledore," the shadow hissed, "that task was for young Malfoy!"
"Forgive me, but there was no time, and the other Death Eaters would not trust me until I had taken an unbreakable vow to Malfoy's mother to protect him." Snape hesitated. "The son of Lucius is young and I am his godfather."
He could almost see Voldemort's sneer. "Such softness in you now that was not there before. Perhaps you spent too long with that old fool." To Snape's relief, Voldemort motioned him to his feet. "But he is a dead fool, so it no longer matters. Now, tell me, what of the boy?"
There was no need to ask which boy the Dark Lord referred to. There was only one that mattered. "I don't see how he can disrupt your plans. I have never seen anything remarkable about him," Snape stated truthfully, "save for the fact that he has been uncommonly ... lucky."
"And yet the others claim that you protected him."
"My lord, I was only following your orders," the potions master said as calmly as possible. "The boy was supposed to be kept for you."
"Alive, yes, so that I may slay him." The shadow seemed to quiver with suppressed glee. "But not unharmed! In the confusion, he could have been captured and brought to me. You had him at your mercy and yet you let him go. Why was that?"
The flat, curious tone alerted Snape to the danger he was in. He knew instantly that if he could not allay Voldermort's suspicions, he would not leave this room alive. "If you want the boy hurt, my lord, I believe there is a way. I have been observing him for years. But it may end with his death, and it will not be directly at your hands. In that sense, you may find my plan disappointing."
"Continue." The shadow sounded amused. "At whose hands shall he suffer?"
"His own. Or his friends'."
There was a short silence, and then the room shook with a sibilant crawling sound that made even Snape want to cringe. It was Voldemort's laughter, heard for the first time in a dozen years. "No, it can't be. It's too easy!" he gloated. "Is this truly possible?"
For the first time since he had entered the room, the Severus Snape straightened and assumed his normal confident bearing. "My lord, I have watched them for years. I believe that what I have in mind will work."
"Tell me your plan."