Tungsten Monk's note: I am deeply sorry for this chapter. Because of the nature of the mission, I had to excerpt some parts of the dreaded 'consummation of the marriage' scene; while I skipped the worst bits, there are some parts that are probably not work-safe. Don't read this where somebody can look over your shoulder.
Disclaimer: "Subjugations" belongs to Ravenkiss, and she can have it. Suicide is the creation of Stephen Pressfield, but I borrow him here for the purposes of humor. Diocletian is my own. All Harry Potter characters and concepts belong to J. K. Rowling; please forgive the fanfiction community. This author knows not what she does.
Read on at your own risk . . .
Part One of the mission may be found at http://tungsten-monk.livejournal.com/5029.html#cutid1
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SUBJUGATION: THE MISSION
Part Two: OMGWTFBBQ!
"On that day, as I spoke of the feast he was looking very withdrawn, and quiet. I did go over to the couch and sit beside him. And I did touch him: simply a pat on the leg, meant in a completely platonic context. I was surprised when he leaned against me. I put my arms around him thinking he needed to be comforted. While I held him I did tell him of my attraction and that I wished to deepen our relationship, and then we were kissing."
A few minutes had passed. Diocletian, realizing that there are some things a man must do, had given Suicide the Bleepsinthe and was watching with interest as he proceeded to not drink himself into unconsciousness. Instead, he was taking little nips out of the bottle while staring with bloodshot eyes at the scene, and aside from that small movement, not twitching in the slightest. Curious, Dio produced a stick of jerky from her bag and waved it in front of his face. There was a snap that nearly took the tips of her fingers off, and the jerky vanished. She had no idea how a normal man could chew moodily, but this one was.
� . . . butterscotch candy?� She said after a moment, proffering a bag.
Suicide pushed it away. �Quiet. Charge.�
"Professor, you have had your say, do not interrupt again unless you wish to be silenced and removed from the proceedings!" Severus ground his teeth, but said nothing more.
"I am sorry Severus, but the truth must come out." Dumbledore turned back to his fellows on the bench, "To be honest, I was rather shocked at his behavior. Severus was quite wonton.
Diocletian twitched as hysterical laughter welled up in her throat. Snape shuddered, and suddenly, a heavily depressed seven-foot-tall meat dumpling was lurking on the witness stand and oozing soup. What's more, while it was a dumpling, it was nevertheless very sexy. Very, very, extraordinarily sexy. The Author continued to narrate Snape's �wontonness� while the pastry stared balefully around it, and Diocletian clapped her hands over her mouth. This job was getting phenomenally weird.
He crawled into my lap, spread his legs wide and rubbed himself against me. I admit that I should have had better control, but I just could not stop thinking about the fact that he was offering me a go at a complete set of both male and female genitalia, even a pair of rather large hooters." There was an audible snarl from Suicide, somewhat muffled by his chosen snack. On the witness stand, the wonton was quivering visibly now. Diocletian unwrapped a second piece of jerky and stuck it between her partner's grinding teeth.
There was chuckling from behind covered mouths. Severus glared at them, hugging his chest tightly. "I fear my resistance to such exquisite temptation was nil. It was not long before we were on the floor shagging like bunnies."
Dio was once again finding herself in the position of Damage Control, and she did her best to do her duty. �Making Dumbledore a lustful old letch,� she narrated quietly as she scribbled at the charge list. �Creation of biological impossibilities, to whit, a fully fertile hermaphrodite. Giving Snape breasts. Characters so far gone that they couldn't touch canon if it mugged them in an alley. Giving an old man a heart attack. How do those sound?�
Her partner blinked- finally- and turned towards her, his glare lessening a little. �Holl manh? Wheh dhid hthah appen?�
�In about ten seconds, if that vein of yours keeps bulging like that.�
�Whah-� The pin dropped with the resounding *thud* of an impending beating. �I'm not old!�
�Eh, haven't you heard?� Diocletian, the Sueishly youthful, grinned as she stretched out on the stone floor. �Life ends after thirty-five. After that, it's aaaaaall a downhill slope.�
Suicide swallowed the lump of jerky and opened his mouth to say something very unfriendly indeed, but the pin- having dropped- was promptly picked up again. �Nice try, Dio,� he grunted. �Trying to keep me distracted. Doesn't work.�
Shit, Diocletian thought. �How about Bleepsinthe?�
�Already got it.�
�More jerky?�
�Not happening.�
�A nudie magazine?�
�My subscriptions are paid through next year.�
Diocletian began digging through her bag. �Butterscotch candy?�
�Nope. Look, Dio,� Suicide said. He sounded tired, and the red flush was receding from his face. �It's great to have you back, and all that. But I've had a bad feeling for months, and I think the Universal Laws of Bad Shit are going to poleaxe us any moment. So be nice- for once in your life- and let me glare, okay? You can riff if you want.�
"Remus is in Romania at the moment. But he was present when Professor Snape was rescued from the dungeons of Malfoy Manor. It was Remus that opened the cell door and told Severus that he was free. In response to this news, Severus�"
The ex-Sue was visibly disappointed. �You're going to pout?�
�Call it what you like. Personally, I consider it therapy.�
�I thought therapy was that thing with the straw targets, the M-16, and the little clicky-�
Suicide shook his head. �No, that's controlled demolitions. Or fun. Depends on which Psych Department doc you find under the desk.�
"Headmaster!" Severus gasped cutting him off. "I did not recognize him! You know that I was delirious at the time!" His eyes begged Dumbledore not to make him relive that humiliation.
After a moment's silence, Diocletian turned and looked back through the doorway to the Wizengamot. The Sueniverse, in face of the hideous impossibility about to be perpetrated, had forced Snape to revort to human (sort of) form; he was visibly trembling about something, and a quick glance at the Words confirmed what. Quick as possible, she dropped her bag on the floor and began rummaging through it frantically. Suicide, having returned to his glaring, stopped once more and looked at her curiously.
�Dio- what the hell?�
�Shitshitshit!�
"Yes, Severus," The old man said gently, ignoring his silent plea. "You were quite delirious when you crawled over to him on your hands and knees and tried to perform oral sex on him."
Her hands touched the metal casing a second too late. There was an ear-piercing wail of agony from the CAD, a shower of sparks, and a grinding noise. Diocletian jerked backwards just in time; another fizz of sparks, and the handheld computer exploded quite spectacularly. There was no disguising it; the entire Wizengamot turned to stare at the two servants, who had appeared out of thin air and were now cursing and stamping on the remains of a burning satchel.
�Ohshit!� Suicide yelped. Grabbing his partner by the back of her robes, he scrambled backwards and hauled them both out into the corridor, slamming the door behind them. The two agents pelted down the hall towards the golden lift, Suicide practically dragging Diocletian, who shouted and tried to twist out of his grip. The Scythian didn't put her down until they were safely in the lift.
�My pack-� Diocletian began.
�Leave it. There's fifty experienced wizards in that room, and we can't do this mission if we're Body-Bound. I don't know what the Flowers do to agents who are captured by the canons, and I don't want to find out. My salary's already suspended for the next thirty years.� Suicide leaned against the wall and rummaged through his own pack. Finding his CAD, he checked to be sure it was still deactivated, then took a piece of duct tape and secured the switch in the Off position. �There could be some cultural contamination, so we'll have to go back later and pick up the remnants. Check the Words, would you?�
Diocletian reflexively winced as she stared up at the ceiling of the lift. Her eyes unfocused, and the Words were there.
"Professor Snape's female orifice did have some bruising, Albus. There were teeth marks on his, well, breasts also." Noted the magistrate uncomfortably looking at the report. His conscience was a rather tired old thing, which had been ignored for the 'greater good' many times, but it was still there.
�Ouuugh . . . �
�You okay?�
�Bleeprin. Now.�
Her partner handed her an economy-sized bottle of the white medicine, and Diocletian swallowed three tablets. Sweat was beading on her forehead. �I don't know if we can do this, Suicide,� she groaned. �I just came back to the frontiers of relative sanity. I don't want to go batshit all over again. I don't even like Mister Rogers.�
�No need to tell me,� the Scythian said matter-of-factly. Now that they were away from the scene itself, his eyes had stopped twitching. �Look, last time I did a Hogwarts mission, we stayed in the Room of Requirement. How about we portal ahead, pick up the charges at the wedding night scene, and then go get some sleep?�
�That would be nice.� Diocletian looked up at the Words. �Okay . . . Snape's defense crumples like Jack Harkness's vow of chastity, and he has to consent to being 'bonded' to Dumbledore. The marriage--'scuse me, bonding�takes place immediately, and they Floo back to Hogwarts. Dumbledore acts like a total pervert-� the noise of grinding teeth could be heard from the other side of the lift �-and has his way with Snape, in graphic detail. I think we can skip most of that.�
�It's the bonding that worries me,� Suicide said in a forcibly calm voice. �Doesn't the wizard world marry like everybody else? Fleur and Bill seem to be doing a standard marriage, talking about bridesmaids and cake and junk. So why are Dumbledore and Snape 'bonding'?�
Diocletian shrugged. �Bets the author's a Lestat fan,� she said. �Either that, or she was projecting her own horny rape fantasies onto JKR's characters and thought that bonding sounded more 'hawt.'�
�I'll take 'stating the obvious' for $200, Alex.�
�I'm so gonna smack you.�
�'Doctor Who stolen quotes' for $400.�
Diocletian grinned as the lift jerked to a halt. �Well, then. Once more into the badfic?�
�Further up and further in, Dio,� Suicide responded. His sharklike smile didn't reach his eyes.
�Don't give Rapist!Dumbledore any more ideas.�
* * *
"Would you like a lemon drop, my child?" Dumbledore asked gently, he was holding up the little silver candy dish from his desk, looking at him affectionately.
Two House-Elves, one darker than usual and scarred like a piece of roadkill, tumbled through a small portal into Dumbledore's office. Both were wearing tea towel togas with a cactus crest printed on them, and the unscarred one clutched a human-sized notebook in both arms.
�He's in character,� Diocletian sighed, hugging the notebook as she watched Dumbledore. �For one brief, shining moment, he's in character. Canon analysis device, thou didst not die in vain.�
�Pencil at the ready, Dio. We're getting into the rape any minute now.�
�A woman's work is never done,� the ex-Sue muttered as she reached for the long pencil. The two of them watched in silence as Snape panicked and made a dash for the door, but the knob refused to budge. Evil!Dumbledore calmly reminded Snape that he was his �bond mate,� which caused Snape to shout angrily.
"Choice! You call this a choice? Either be bonded with you or face life as an inmate of St. Mungo's? This was the lesser of two evils." Snape glared at the older wizard.
"I do not think that I like being called a 'lesser' evil, Severus." The old man's eye had completely lost their sparkle.
Both House-Agents looked nervously at Suicide's pack, but the CAD had not managed to flip itself on and there were no explosions. They would have appreciated the distraction, though, as Evil!Dumbledore corrected Snape's earlier outburst�"When you were being a smart-ass to the council, my boy - you said I was going to forcefully insert my member into your anterior excretory cavity. You forget, I had already forcible inserted my member into the anterior cavity. That's your pussy, by the way."
�Sweet Xerxes on a stick. This hurts.� Suicide took the bottle of Bleeprin back from Diocletian and snarfed half-a-dozen pills at once. Snape made another escape attempt, and Evil!Dumbledore played hurt, demanding to know what was going on.
"I will not stay here!" The younger man yelled louder then necessary.
"Yes, you will, Severus." The voice was frighteningly calm. "You will come with me to the bedroom and our marriage will be consummated now."
�Suicide, do we have to--� Diocletian began.
�Yep.� Her partner's bulbous eyes were focused grimly on the scene. �Rapefic, sexfic, pr0nfic�the charges are in the sex scenes. We need to at least get some of them. Speaking of which, charge for making Dumbledore an evil rapist.�
�We've already got 'making Dumbledore a lustful old letch.'�
�Not the same thing.�
�Well, I'm not writing it again and again. I'd run out of pencil before we ran out of charges.� She put a little checkmark next to the previous charge. �How's that?�
�Chances are, you're still going to run out of pencil.� Suicide winced. �Domestic violence coming up-�
"I would prefer not to have to resort to such threats, but I will not be denied. Now get that lovely little arse of yours into the bedroom."
"Damn it, Albus, how can you expect me to do this? To let you or anyone else touch me! First the fucking Death Eaters took turns with me for days at a time; hardly a month ago you raped me! I�"
Severus Snape was sprawled on the floor before he knew what had happened. He stared wide-eyed at Dumbledore as the pain flared and blood flowed from his split lip. The old wizard had struck with the speed of a striking snake. Snape had not even seen the blow coming.
�Dio-�
Diocletian scribbled another check mark, the tip of the pencil nearly biting through the paper. Suicide was starting to develop an eyetwitch again.
A cowed Snape scuttled into the bedroom, followed by the Dumbledore replacement. With great reluctance, the agents followed. Diocletian recorded another charge as Snape decided resistance was futile, making both PPCers wince at the plaintive, helpless tone of the angstologue. The ceiling was beginning to change color as purple oozed out of the Words.
"Yes, Albus, please take me." He almost choked on the words as Dumbledore's finger traced his lips. Severus opened his mouth, allowing the slightly bloody finger to enter. He closed his eyes and sucked on it, delicately swirling his tongue.
Suicide began singing, rather off-key. �She tied you to a kitchen chair, she broke your throne, she cut your hair, and from your lips she drew the hallelujah . . . �
�Hey, isn't that from Shrek?�
�Maybe. Hallelujah, hallelujah . . . �
�Is that a song or a plea for mercy?�
�Which one do you think?�
�Plea for mercy.�
Next came a description of the bedroom�the bed was soft, fluffy looking, piled high with numerous warm plush quilts. Most of these were in the Gryffindor house colors of red and gold. One even had the Gryffindor lion on it.
�Oooh,� Diocletian whispered, looking at the masses of red-and-gold quilts. �Think we can steal those?�
�Not after what they're gonna do,� Suicide commented. Diocletian winced and made a face, pawing at the air as if she was trying to swat a fly, and looked longingly at the Bleeprin bottle. Suicide shook his head and mouthed 'we'll need it' at her, making her pout.
Now the squick began in earnest. Evil!Dumbledore pulled open Snape's robes and began to fondle and grope him, unwrapping the bandages that the Stu had used to keep his breasts flat.
He kissed his frightened new plaything on the lips, pushing his tongue in, plundering his sweet mouth. He licked and nibbled the split bottom lip, tasting blood. Then he moved sensually down the slender form, kissing his neck, a lick over the collarbone, down his chest. Hungrily he licked a nipple.
Merlin he loved a nice pair of tits!
There was a smell of burnt paper, and the outside of Suicide's pack began to turn black as his entire stash of litmus strips fried instantaneously. Both agents shuddered and turned their backs on the nauseating scene. Diocletian put down another check mark, then another as Evil!Dumbledore began . . . well . . .
'You will not deny me, Severus.' He squeezed the limp organ, though this only garnered a grunt but no arousal.
�Hello, Clarice,� Suicide mimicked. Diocletian elbowed him.
Evil!Dumbledore got some response from the possessed Snape after he ate something else, and not with fava beans or a big Amarone. As there was no Amarone, the agents shared out a pitcher of Three Wise Guys (Bleepsky, Bleequila, and Bleeprum, garnished with powdered Logicillin and shaken in the backpack of an agent banging his or her head against the wall) and shielded their eyes. The ceiling was now dripping urple, and the edges of the world flinched with each movement of the drastically perverted canons.
�Making Dumbledore a lustful--� Suicide began.
Diocletian checked it off. �Having Snape get off on what is essentially rape.�
�Anal sex, no lube.�
�Having the other Slytherins train young Snape to be a bitch.�
�Dumbledore getting off on images of�screw it. Three more check marks, easy.�
�Make it four. He just stroked Snape's prostate.�
�That is not medically advisable.�
�'Erect and weeping cock.' Check it out, even his genitals are upset by this.�
�Maybe they don't appreciate being enhanced to horse size. Oh, ow. Making Dumbledore have the body of a Mr. Universe contestant.�
�Gotta say, though. At least Ravenkiss didn't say anything about 'engorgio.'�
"I have not yet begun to debauch!"
And with that, the chapter ended. Shattered, stunned, disgusted, disturbed, and with five pages of charge list and seventeen check marks, the agents slunk off.