Title: Job Negotiation
Author: alisanne
Characters: Dolores Umbridge/Nagini, Dolores Umbridge/Charity Burbage, Voldemort/Bellatrix Lestrange.
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Apart from the pairings? Bestiality (sort of), dub con, all around nastiness?
Themes/kinks chosen: Everything Old is New, Negotiation, Alternate pairing: Dolores Umbridge/Nagini.
Word Count: 2570
Summary: Voldemort has an interesting interview process.
Author's notes: This may be my oddest pairing yet. :/ And now I'm going to have to add journal tags to my journal for Umbridge. SMH.
Thanks to my long-suffering beta readers, sevfan and emynn, to torino10154 for the ~encouragement, and to ragdoll for letting me borrow her posting day. <3
Disclaimer: The characters contained herein are not mine. No money is being made from this fiction, which is presented for entertainment purposes only.


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Job Negotiation

~

The first time she hears Rufus Scrimgeour is dead, she can’t suppress a smirk. No one’s looking at her, though; they are running for their lives, like the rats they are. She snorts. She would never have abandoned Cornelius like that. Sodding cowards.

Dolores is made of sterner stuff. And she hates Harry Potter, oh how she hates him. Surely she can come to some arrangement with the one wizard who may actually hate him more?

Thus, when the Death Eaters finally arrive, they find her sitting calmly at her desk. She has retained her previous position at the Ministry after the debacle at Hogwarts, but has not yet regained her previous level of influence. Those who used to seek her counsel and advice now avoid her, and it stings.

It would almost have been better had she been relegated to a tiny office. Then at least she could once again begin to claw her way up to power once more. But the public humiliation she suffered at the hands of Harry Potter and his friends has made her a laughingstock, and the bitterness of that has never left her.

She doesn’t resist as the Death Eaters burst in, confiscating her wand. In fact, she goes out of her way to be helpful, pointing out potential hiding places as they escort her out.

Ignoring the looks of loathing the Ministry workers give her as they’re rousted out of hiding, she makes sure to cooperate fully.

It’s noted, of course, and when the new Minister, a squirrelly-looking man with a large forehead named Pius Thicknesse is appointed, he immediately sees her potential. “The Dark Lord is always looking for motivated individuals,” he says smoothly. “Perhaps it’s time to arrange a meeting.”

Dolores prepares carefully, even going to Diagon to look for an appropriate piece of jewellery to wear. There, she finds a scruffy man hawking an old piece, and something about it calls to her. The way his eyes shift from side to side indicates he’s not exactly legitimate, and she confiscates the locket, threatening him with gaol should he object.

The piece makes her feel powerful, and she wears it nestled between her breasts, beneath her best pink robes on the day she is summoned for her meeting with Voldemort.

She is ushered into Malfoy Manor, led up some stairs and into a grand ballroom. The room is full of people, some masked, some not, and at the far end is a…well, it can only be called a throne. Dolores keeps her hands clasped before her, her eyes lowered as she approaches.

Once she gets closer, Dolores realises with a start that Voldemort looks more creature than human, and she suppresses her automatic revulsion. Creatures unnerve her. They are unnatural, unruly, uncontrollable. But her attraction to power is stronger than her antipathy to this creature, who holds her fate in his hands. She bows and smiles and pushes her disgust deep.

“Senior Undersecretary to the Minister, Dolores Umbridge,” Voldemort hisses, his high, cold voice sending a shiver to her very bones. “I have heard many things about you.”

“My Lord V—” One of the watchers, a witch with wild hair and even wilder eyes, hisses, and Dolores immediately corrects herself. “My Lord.” She bows.

“I understand we share some views about Muggles and Mudbloods.”

Allowing her disgust to show, Dolores inclines her head. “I believe they do not belong in our world,” she says. “Their ways are not our ways.”

“Exactly!” Voldemort stands, walks towards her, and she sees that he’s not wearing shoes and that his feet are filthy. She suppresses a shiver. “This is exactly what I’ve been saying.” As he moves closer, Dolores looks down, not meeting his gaze. She’s heard he’s an accomplished Legilimens, and has no desire to show him what she’s thinking just then.

“I understand from Pius,” Voldemort continues, “you desire a position in my cabinet.”

“My Lord, I would be honoured—”

“Of course you would.” Voldemort circles her, his movements sinuous. “But what are you prepared to…do…to achieve that end? I hear you are quite ambitious. It’s time, Dolores, to show us exactly how ambitious you are.”

“O…of course, my Lord.” Dolores waits until he’s back in front of her before she looks up. “Whatever you wish.”

“Whatever I wish!” Voldemort laughs. “Do you all hear that? Now that is the sort of attitude I like!”

The gathered Death Eaters all laugh, some louder than others, but none too long. Too soon, everyone is quiet, and Dolores waits to hear what she’ll be required to do.

“Are you…married?”

The question takes Dolores by surprise, and she shakes her head. “N…no, my Lord.” Although it’s not because she hasn’t tried. Over the years, she’s ingratiated herself to men and even a woman once, in multiple attempts to procure a marriage proposal, but all her efforts remained unsuccessful.

“No, I didn’t think so.” Voldemort smirks. “You’ve been married to the Ministry all these years, haven’t you? A devoted public servant. Well, you’re to be my servant now.”

“Yes, my Lord.”

Leaning in, Voldemort whispers, “I’m not married either. Isn’t that a coincidence?”

Dolores goes still. He can’t possibly be thinking she would…Merlin, no! But then, she recalls all the rumours she’s heard about the depraved sex acts Death Eaters perform at their meetings, and she wonders if that’s what he wants from her. She’s not been with many people, well, only one if she’s being honest, and the experience was wholly humiliating. So messy and disordered. Words desert her.

Voldemort moves away, and Dolores exhales. She glances to the side, from where several people are watching, and the witch who had hissed at her earlier is glaring at her. Dolores winces when she finally recognises her. Bellatrix Black-Lestrange. The mad witch who escaped Azkaban while Cornelius was Minister.

“So, now we negotiate,” says Voldemort, and Dolores tears her eyes from Bellatrix’s and fights for composure. “Proceed. What abilities or gifts do you bring to my ranks, Madam Undersecretary?”

Dolores blinks, her mind blank. “I…Well, hem, hem. I’m quite good at motivating people, I’m excellent at interrogations…Oh, and I’m a gifted teacher. Cornelius did once appoint me headmistress of Hogwarts.”

“Headmistress, hm?” Voldemort chuckles coldly. “That won’t be possible. I’ve already chosen the new headmaster. He’s the one who got rid of the old one for me.”

Snape. Dolores grits her teeth. He’s always made her feel inadequate, and she’s never been able to forgive him for it. “Of course.”

“I do, however, need someone to root out all the Mudbloods who have infiltrated our society,” Voldemort continued. “Are you up for that job?”

Dolores smiles. “My Lord, it would be my genuine pleasure.”

“Excellent. And speaking of pleasure—” Voldemort strolls past her, once again approaching his throne, “—everyone out! I’m having a private audience with the Undersecretary. Not you, Bellatrix.”

As everyone but Bellatrix troops out, Dolores hovers uncertainly, not sure what’s expected. And when Bellatrix strolls past her, she smirks before going to stand beside Voldemort’s throne.

Voldemort, in the meantime, has settled into the large chair. “As you’re to serve at my pleasure, Madam Undersecretary, we shall negotiate the terms of our agreement.”

“Of course.” Dolores tries to smile.

“You will have discretion to do as you will with the Mudbloods.”

“And the half-bloods?” Dolores asks eagerly. “What about them?”

Voldemort leans forward. “What about them?”

“Their filth infests our society as well, my Lord. I could root them out, too.”

Bellatrix leans down, whispers something to Voldemort. He nods. “Very well. You’re certainly…motivated. There’s just one caveat.”

Dolores braces herself. “My Lord?”

Voldemort snaps his fingers, and someone emerges from behind a curtain. The person’s shrouded in shadow at first, but when the face is revealed, Dolores blinks. “Meet one of newer…acquisitions. She formerly taught Muggle Studies at Hogwarts. Charity’s had an internal change, a change of…heart, shall we say?”

Charity Burbage, that was her name. Dolores remembers interviewing her while at Hogwarts. That Burbage had been animated, but the person before her has dead eyes, is silent.

“Charity has been a…guest here for some time and now craves companionship, although she may not admit it. I thought it would be a good test of your motivational skills to see if you can…animate her.”

Dolores eyes Charity. She looks as if she’s not slept in a while, and she smells as if she’s stopped bathing. Her stay in Malfoy Manor has clearly not been a pleasant one. Still, Dolores has dealt with traumatised people before. And if this is all that’s between her and having power over the filthy Mudbloods, she can do this. “Hello, Charity. Do you remember me?”

Charity doesn’t react, she doesn’t even blink, she simply stares straight ahead.

Right. This will obviously require more effort. Moving towards Charity, Dolores smiles. “It’s been a while since we’ve seen each other, Charity. We taught at Hogwarts together, remember?”

Charity’s head slowly swivels to look at Dolores. She opens her mouth, but all that emerges is a hiss.

Bellatrix giggling makes Dolores look over at the throne, and she sees Voldemort has her in his lap, his hands caressing her as they watch. Bellatrix’s smirk is challenging, and Dolores sees the mockery there. You’re going to fail, those eyes say, as clearly was if the words are spoken aloud.

Dolores turns back to Charity and clasps her hand. “How are you, dear?” she asks, projecting warmth. “Oh my, your hands are cold. Would you like me to warm you up a bit?”

Charity doesn’t speak, but her head bobs and Dolores hums. “Of course you would.” Drawing her wand, she Summons a couple of chairs from across the room, and after combining them to make one large chair, she draws Charity down to sit with her.

Sighing, Dolores leans close. “I’m going to be honest with you, dear. I’d like to make a good impression, so could you cooperate? All you have to do is smile, show that you’re enjoying yourself.”

Charity tilts her head, stares at Dolores with that cold, unnerving look.

“Kiss her,” cackles Bellatrix. “We want to see you do it!”

“Hush, Bella,” hisses Voldemort. “Let things progress at their own pace. I’m sure the Undersecretary has a plan to persuade Charity to relax and enjoy her company.”

Dolores has never kissed another woman, and her heart is racing as she leans closer. Charity remains still, her lips closed under Dolores’, at least at first. As Dolores persists, however, Charity’s mouth opens, and Dolores slips her tongue inside.

Charity’s tongue is…long, flickering. Forked?

Drawing back with a gasp, Dolores stares at Charity. “What have they done to you?”

Without a word, Charity presses forward again, and Dolores is kissed. It’s unnerving, and a bit strange, but not unpleasant. Dolores gives herself to the kiss, finally enthusiastically returning it. So much so that when Charity begins to unbutton Dolores’ robes, it barely registers.

It’s only when cool air hits her chest that Dolores gasps and draws back.

Charity’s eyes are fixed on her, and the intensity of that stare makes Dolores shiver.

There’s moaning coming from the throne, and Dolores risks a glance, unsurprised to see both Voldemort’s and Bellatrix’s robes hiked up, and their bodies moving in an unmistakable rhythm. Voldemort is watching her as he fucks Bellatrix, and the cold, reptilian look in his eyes matches Charity’s.

Does it matter what he’s done to Charity? Not really. It’s clear now what they want her to do, and what with all the kissing, Dolores is not reluctant.

Placing her hand on Charity’s knee, she squeezes.

Charity reciprocates by kissing her again, and as their tongues entwine, Charity’s hands are fondling Dolores’ breasts, squeezing them through her underwear, playing with her nipples.

Dolores realises with a start she’s wet, her knickers drenched.

Sliding her hand under Charity’s shirt, Dolores reached between her legs, trying to slip her fingers past… “No knickers?” Dolores gasps. “You naughty girl!”

Charity is not as wet as Dolores, but her eager response speaks of wanting to continue, so Dolores does, boldly pressing two fingers inside her, rubbing her thumb rhythmically over her clit.

She is moist, and as Dolores moves to push a third finger in, Charity jerks back, pushing Dolores’ shoulders until she is half sitting, half lying on the enlarged chair.

Dolores blinks. “What—? Oh!”

Charity, moving as fast as a striking snake, pushes her head beneath Dolores’ skirt, and ripping her knickers, proceeds to use that forked tongue to lick and tease her.

Dolores whimpers, her hands braced on Charity’s shoulders, her legs spread obscenely to allow Charity’s incredible tongue to continue its work.

It flutters and flickers and soon, Dolores is shaking with the need to come. Her eyes are closed, but light bursts behind them, sending pleasure careening through her. She loses her grip on Charity, and the both end up on the floor with a thud.

Yet Charity never pauses. She continues licking Dolores until she’s screaming, until not another sound or sensation can be wrung from her. And only then does she remove her head from under Dolores’ skirt.

Dolores is spent, breathless and boneless on the floor.

Voldemort claps slowly. “Well done. You really are determined to have this position.”

Trying to stand, Dolores only manages to sit up, move her legs together, and redo the top buttons on her dress. One of her shoes is missing, she has no idea where it is, and she’s sure her hair is a mess. Still, one does what one must.

Charity is face down on the floor beside her, her body undulating.

Dolores clears her throat. “Are you all right?” she asks.

“She is fine,” says Voldemort, pushing Bellatrix off his lap to stand. He smirks, and Dolores suppresses a shudder. “And now that she has had her fun, it’s time to return to work.” He snaps his fingers. “Come, Nagini.”

Dolores stares, unable to process what she’s seeing. Charity’s mouth opens almost impossibly wide, her body collapses, and a snake, one of the largest she’s ever seen, slides out of her.

The snake, Nagini, pauses for a millisecond to stare at Dolores, and with horror, Dolores realises that is what she’s fucked. It’s the same cold stare the person she’s through all along is Charity has given her all evening. Then it looks away, its eyes locking with its master’s. It slithers towards him silently.

Looking down at Charity’s rotting body, Dolores recoils. Bile rises in her throat, but she somehow manages to swallow it down.

“Another successful negotiation,” hisses Voldemort. He extends his hand, and Nagini presses her head onto the palm. He smiles coldly at Dolores. “You can see yourself out. Come, Bellatrix.”

Bellatrix shoots Dolores a smirk before turning to follow Voldemort and Nagini.

Dolores sits there and shakes for a long time. Then, standing up, she smooths down her hair, refastens her robes, and, pressing her fingers to the concealed locket between her breasts, she exhales. She will make this humiliation worth it, oh yes she will. No Mudblood or creature will be safe when she’s done.

~