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Life Is Good	By : Naltariel Category: Harry Potter > General > General Views: 1143 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Life Is Good
- 1
“Living hell is the best revenge.”

Adrienne E. Gusoff

The graveyard was dark and ominous, lighted only by the pale
crescent moon that was half hidden behind a cloud. The chill wind of autumn
blew strongly, while shadows danced around creepily, adding an unwelcome
atmosphere to the surrounding. Despite the unpleasant environment, a man stood
amidst the cemetery, fully intending to carry out his unfinished business.

Today was the twentieth anniversary of the Potters’ demise.
Albus Dumbledore had insisted that the remaining members of the Order,
including James Potter’s childhood nemesis Severus Snape, visit the family’s last
resting place to honor them. Of course Snape had been livid when he’d found out
he was being forced to mourn his enemy. Eventually, he created his own reason
to visit the grave.
The commemoration went as expected. After a maudlin, idiotic display of tear-shedding
and sniveling, the mourners left. It took several hours of waiting for Snape to
be certain that he was truly alone in the cemetery. Finally
the last two remaining mourners had gone. Snape watched with a smirk as Lupin
half coaxed, half forced the Potter brat to return to Hogwarts.
“Here lie James and Lily Potter, the heroes of the wizarding world, beloved
friends and parents. 1960 - 1981,” he read off the tombstone’ inscription.
“I bet you never imagined that I, the greasy, poor Snivellus
would outlive you and your Mudblood wife, did you?
And not just that, I have been awarded with Order of Merlin first class along
with the appropriate amount of Galleons for my heroic work as a spy, for being
a double agent.” Snape laughed. “Heroic indeed. What
they never knew was that I’ve always worked with the winning side, whether it was
that Red- Eyed Bastards’s or Dumbledore’s.”
“What do you say about that, Head boy? I have ten thousand Galleons and worldwide
recognition while you rot in Hell and your brat is under psychiatric care for
his trauma from the war.” Snape sneered. “Do you know how your spawn grew up,
Potter? He wasn’t raised in a rich, arrogant, Gryffindor family like you. He
was raised by your Mudblood’s Muggle relatives, caged
in a cupboard under the stairs. He was despised and poor and abused, just like
me. Don’t you just love it when the Higher Power arranges the perfect revenge
for you?”
“And your beast friend, Lupin. He has been shunned
by the society since I “accidentally” let slip that he was a werewolf. He
hasn’t had a job ever since, and he has to live sorely from scraps and pity. He
is no better than a street dog now. And soon, he will be exterminated when the Ministry’s new law concerning
Dark Creatures comes out. The law will, of course, rouses
many arguments. But I guess a proper support from a war hero in the front page
of Daily Prophet should do the trick.” Snape stopped to relish the image of
tomorrow’s interview with Rita Skeeter. Not only that
would he able exact revenge to the werewolf, he would grow more influential and
respected.
“And let’s not forget your dearest friend, Black.”
Snape paused dramatically, as if it was his intend to torment his dead
audience with anticipation.
“I am sure you’ve learned that he managed to land himself in all sorts of
difficulties. His idiocy was enough to ensure that he got what he deserved. My
intervention was utterly unnecessary. He fell into Pettigrew’s
trap and spent twelve years in Azkaban. Then, a few
years after he escaped, he succeeded in falling into the veil in the Department
of Mysteries.”
“Your thoughtless son couldn’t accept that his dogfather
was better gone. With the help of his Mudblood
know-it-all girlfrien -- the one whose personality greatly
resembles your meddling wife -- he found a way to release the mutt from that
veil.” Snape chuckled.
“Of course, there were, ah, some terrible repercussions resulting from his
stay behind the veil. And needless to say, Dumbledore practically begged me to
find a cure for the mutt.” the Potion Master smirked maliciously. “And how
could I refuse such a request?”
“With proper methods and care,” Snape added, “needless to say that Black’s
health has improved. Sort of. He even behaves better.”
Having delivered his speech, Snape spat at the tombstone and turned to
leave. “By the way, Black makes a very good lay, Potter,” he said as he walked
away. “I wonder if that was why you two were so close when you were at Hogwarts.”
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Snape entered his private room in the Hogwarts dungeon. He threw his wet
cloak on a basket, poured himself a glass of whisky, and summoned a House Elf
to make him his favorite dinner: rare steak and a bottle of the best wine in
Hogwarts. He wanted to celebrate this day after all. Finishing his dinner, he
took a shower and emerged from the bathroom naked, ready for his ritualistic
sex with the still figure on his bed. Sirius Black, his lover.
Snape threw the sheets to the floor, revealing Sirius Black’s appealing nude
form. The man closed his eyes in shame, though for his nakedness or for his
helplessness Snape couldn’t tell. And didn’t care. The
Potions Master leered in satisfaction at the sight. Revenge was sweet, and
Snape wouldn’t waste a chance to indulge himself in it.
He lay himself half atop of Black and began his
nightly ministration. First, he traced Black’s jaw with his thumb, from his ear
to his chin back to his ear again. Then he caressed the soft ebony hair, taking
a moment to burrow his face into the softness and inhale the sweet smell of the
lemon scented shampoo mixed with sweat. “Ah,” Snape sighed. Life could be good.
Life could be very good.
Snape licked Black’s earlobe and relishing in the stifled moan he produced.
“Did you behave yourself today, Black?” Snape gently nipped the earlobe. Black
moaned again. “I guess you did.” Snape kissed him.
“Do you know what day is today?” Snape’s hand started to wander around his
lover’s torso, skimming the satiny pale skin with bliss. “Today is the
twentieth anniversary of the Potters’ death and that sentimental old fool ordered
us to visit their grave. He must have thought that everyone was sad at the
Potters’ demise,” Snape snorted. “I used the chance to tell your best friend,” Snape stresses the last
words, “of what I really thought about him. And what has become of all the people
he cared about,” Snape added while he pinched Black’s rosy nipple. From the
reaction, Snape could tell that it had hurt. Good. Snape soothed the pain away
with his tongue and pinched the other nipple. Black hissed.
“I told him what happened to young Potter and what will soon befall our
favorite werewolf.” Snape’s finger traced Black’s protruding ribs, ignoring the
furious glare his unwilling partner directed at him. “You are too thin. I must
make sure you eat more,” he said, frowning. “Anyway, I also told your dead
friend about you. About us.” Snape lifted his head to
enjoy the futile rage and loathing in his nemesis’ face. He chuckled, listening
to the angry noises that Black produced. “Don’t worry,” he said affectionately.
“I didn’t give him details.” Snape squeezed his partner’s firm arse and then turned the limp figure to lie on his stomach.
“Only that you are now my good boy toy.” Snape took a jar of lubricant from the
nightstand and covered his fingers with the oily substance.
“He doesn’t know that you were practically a vegetable once that stupid brat
retrieved you from the veil.” Snape inserted one finger into the tight hole. “He
knows that I have been, ah, taking care of you.” He added another finger and made
the scissoring motion that never failed to relax his frigid partner. “Of
course, I didn’t tell him that I couldn’t stand your dirty mouth and concocted
a potion to render you speechless, literally.” Snape inserted the third finger,
angling to hit the prostate. Snape heard a muffled groan, informing him that he
had “found the place.” He withdrew his fingers. “I told him you were a great
lay.” Snape positioned his cock on Black’s arsehole
and slammed in, feeling the man’s breath hitch in surprise. The Potion Master began
to pant. It was so perfect, so tight, so warm. He
pulled out. “But I hope even with his limited capacity for logical thought he
can conclude that you’re no more than my bitch now.” Snape pushed in again. The
pleasure halted his monologue for a while. Snape concentrated on the feeling of
silky, warm flesh around his cock and the feel of Black’s prostrate body beneath
him.
“Ah.” Life was good indeed. Snape shot his release with a hoarse cry, slumping
bonelessly atop the paralyzed man.
Afterhilehile, Snape rolled to Black’s side, casting a cleaning charm on
both of them. He fell asleep spooning against his enemy’s unmoving body.
The satiated man did not notice the wet stain on his pillow, resulting from
the overwhelming sorrow of the helpless man he was embracing.
For Sirius Black, life hadn’t been good. Instead, Life had been bad.
Life had always been unbearably bad.
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Life Is Good