Severus bent down on one knee, and lowered his dark head.

“Severus,” a low voice hissed. “Give me your arm.”

“But Master-” Severus began.

Red eyes flashed dangerously. “You dare refuse?”

“No, of course not Master, but I do not plan on having children...ever.”

A cacophony of laughter from the throng of hooded Death Eaters behind him, echoed through the dark night.

The Dark Mark defiled the clear, cloudless midnight sky that was speckled with glittering diamonds. A soft glow, from the perfect full-moon, shone through the forest of trees, shedding light upon the clearing.

A small smile, strangely enough, made the evil face appear even more distorted and horrific.

“Of course not Severus. However, in the event that-” he traced his blue-tinged lips, with a long pointed fingernail, “-you should find yourself in, let's say...a compromising position, we must assure that whatever offspring you father-”

Severus cringed at the word.

“-will be strong, of pure-blood, untainted,” he paused, a slow, evil smirk, lifting the corner of his lip, “-- and invincible.”

Severus ground his teeth; it wasn't that he was afraid of knives, or being cut with one. After all, he'd endured much more excruciating pain in his life. A little nick of the knife, didn't phase him at all. So why then, did he feel as though his heart was going to thump right out of his chest, as the Dark Lord came closer and closer; the reflection of his red eyes glittered hypnotically in the shiny metal blade of the dagger.

Severus tried to occlude, but his body betrayed him, as he could feel the beads of cold sweat roll down his brow. Merlin, it was as if the Dark Lord was expecting him to impregnate the first woman that he came upon; as unlikely as that was. Severus made certain that he was not attractive to the opposite sex. It wasn't a coincidence that his midnight-black hair, hung in greasy clumps around his face. He chose black clothing, and allowed his teeth to become yellowed from drinking an obscene amount of coffee and teas, and fine-tuned his prickly demeanour, and acid-tongue, to ensure that any woman would find him vile and unpleasant.

No...Severus had not allowed another woman within an inch of his heart or soul, since Lily. Oh...the Dark Lord had attempted on numerous occasions to press him to choose a fine Pureblood woman to bed, but although it was expected and required of him to participate in some of the raids that they had performed on unsuspecting Muggles, and Half-bloods, the Dark Lord had always forbade his Death Eaters to taint their bodies by having sex with those of lesser blood than themselves. However, many a young Pureblood girl, and woman were trussed up like a Christmas turkey and put on display, in the hopes that the Dark Lord's most loyal followers would bed, and marry those who could produce male heirs who would carry on the Dark Lord's vision.

Severus winced, as the Dark Lord nicked his ruby-handled dagger against his arm. A thin line of blood trickled down Severus' arm, and Voldemort motioned for Severus to drip his blood into the bubbling cauldron behind him.

Severus felt the bile rise up, as his blood met with the swirling, scalding dark liquid; it popped and hissed as if in protest.

“Severus...you will return in a fortnight to allow the potion to brew,” he ordered.

“Yes Master.”

Voldemort addressed his followers; his blood-red eyes...piercing and hypnotic in their gaze.

'You will all return here in fourteen days.” His thin lips curled. “Those of you with male offspring—no matter the age, will bring them along,” he instructed.

His eyes lifted towards the sky. “I will summon you in the...usual way.”

“Yes Master,” came the chorus of low voices, muffled by the heavy, dark hoods hiding their faces.

-------

Severus grit his teeth in irritation as he sneered at the doddering old wizard spewing nonsense from his aged pruned lips, as though he was handing out lemon drops and sugar quills to snot-nosed, spoilt brats.

“You are seriously delusional old man,” Severus sneered, and spun on his heel, his dark robes, swirling about his scuffed black boots.

“Severus, hear me out,” Dumbledore pleaded, as he stood up suddenly.

Severus pinched the bridge of his overly large nose. "With all due respect Headmaster...every time I hear you out, I live to regret it, and as this involves Potter," he sneered, baring his yellowed teeth, "I am certain that I will absolutely loathe whatever brilliant idea that you have cooked up."

Albus looked at him, with pleading eyes. "You yourself have pointed out the brilliance of Voldemort's plan Severus."

Severus' eyes burnt with ill-disguised hatred.

"While I agree that the Dark Lord's plan is--" his thin lips curled, "-ingenious, shall we say, I refuse to have anymore interaction with Potter's spawn, than is strictly necessary to protect the idiot Gryffindor from himself," he spat.

“Severus...please,” Albus beseeched.

Severus froze in his tracks, and stared at the elderly wizard's strained features.

“What you are proposing is preposterous, not to mention...extremely risky,” he said, clenching his fists; his nails digging into palms.

“I realise that I have no right to ask this of you-”

Severus' dark eyes smoldered with fury. “You're damned right you don't,” he spat.

Albus' eyes glistened with unshed tears. “I know that you have done your duty tenfold, and that what I'm asking you goes above and beyond the call of duty, but...” he trailed off.

“What you are asking Albus, is for me to commit suicide,” he sneered. “This plan of yours has no hope of being successful; It is a dangerous game, and puts me at risk-”

“If you don't do this you will be at risk; we will all be at risk.” Albus' voice, which had started out as weak and croaky, now became clear and firm.

He walked over to the younger man, and touched his shoulder lightly.

“Severus, you know as well as I do that if Voldemort succeeds in his plan to indoctrinate all the male children of his Deatheaters, and as you have no choice but to brew a potion that would ensure a progressively powerful and invincible race of young Deatheaters, I think that we should at least profit from it.”

“I fail to see how this plan will benefit any of us; least of all me,” Severus said sardonically.

Albus laced his long fingers together; his large ruby-encrusted ring sparkled with the glow of the flickering flames, dancing off the walls, and pierced Severus with his crystal blue eyes..

The only sound that could be heard, was the flapping of Fawkes wings, as he spread his feathers, and seemed to stare at them with his beady, dark eyes.

“Sit down Severus,” Albus said quietly, as he took a seat behind his cluttered desk, and studied the dark man before him, with a serious look in his normally twinkling blue eyes.

Severus reluctantly eased himself into a chair before Albus' desk. The only sign that the powerful hexes that had been cast against him that evening, had wreaked havoc with his body; and his skin felt as it was being pricked by a thousand needles, was a slight twitch in his left cheek, and his pallor was even more the colour of sour milk.

Albus clasped his hands together, and paused a moment, as his emotions warred with each other; he debated with himself internally as to whether he was making the right decision.

“I think that it is about time I divulged fully...the entire contents of the prophecy that Voldemort was so anxious to lay his hands upon, a few days ago at the Ministry.”