Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Derailed	By : SickPuppy Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Snape Views: 19744 -:- Recommendations : 2 -:- Currently Reading : 3
Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter universe. I make no money from this story.

Chapter List
- 1-I:I
- 2-I:II
- 3-I:III
- 4-I:IV
- 5-I:V
- 6-I:VI
- 7-I:VII
- 8-I:VIII
- 9-I:IX
- 10-II:I
- 11-II:II
- 12-II:III
- 13-II:IV
- 14-II:V
- 15-II:VI
- 16-II:VII
- 17-II:VIII
- 18-II:IX
- 19-III:I
- 20-III:II
- 21-III:III
- 22-III:IV
- 23-III:V
- 24-III:VI
- 25-III:VII
- 26-III:VIII
- 27-III:IX
- 28-Epilogue
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Chapter Two: I was a key that could use a little turning

Harry was crumpled on the floor. At some point during Snape's exit from the room, he had succumbed to exhaustion and slept. He had awoken when Snape had kicked him, none too gently in his thigh. The sleep had done him good as his ribs weren't hurting anywhere near as much, and his tooth seemed to have stopped bleeding.

“Get up!” Snape had ordered, voice cold and sneering.

Harry had glowered, but with some renewed vigour, actually managed to get his feet under him and stand up. He glared at Snape, hating the man who had killed Dumbledore. Harry never admitted ever, except in that most private part of himself, that he had once felt a strange attraction for Snape; had fantasised about the older man pushing him onto a potions table and kissing him before sliding his thick cock deep into Harry. Now though, faced with the murderer, he felt only loathing.

“What?” he snarled, refusing to be cowed.

Snape stepped close, black eyes flashing and he raised his hand to strike Harry. Harry glared defiantly back, holding himself tense, refusing to flinch, and Snape dropped his palm.

“No,” he commented, more to himself than to Harry, “no, not when you expect to be hit. There are other ways to make you suffer.” Snape's smile made Harry very very nervous.

Snape pulled on Harry's tattered clothes and tore the last few threads, leaving the younger man completely naked. Intensely vulnerable, Harry tried to cover his penis, but Snape forced Harry's hands away, holding the wrists in strong grips and staring hungrily at the pale body.

It made Harry's skin crawl, that intense gaze. He struggled against the grip on his arms, but it got him nowhere. Snape was free to take in every inch of Harry's exposed skin.

Drawing his breath in with a hiss, Snape spun Harry around and pulled his victim's hands together behind his back. Harry had barely had time to adjust when he felt rope binding him. He was turned back round and Snape smiled, a nasty smile that chilled Harry more than the frigid air. One pale hand pinched one of Harry's nipples and he gasped, more terror than he had ever felt curling in him.

Please, oh please, he thought, please don't let him do what I think he's going to do.

Snape played with Harry's nipples for long minutes, pulling them taut, flicking them, leaning in and biting them in turn, all while Harry stood bound, trembling, numb with shock and fear. Soon enough Snape's hands roamed down over the bunching stomach muscles and focused on Harry's shrivelled cock.

“No,” Harry whispered, “please....no.”

Snape ignored him and slid one palm under the hot balls, cupping them. His other hand lifted Harry's limp dick off the testicles and held it up, examining the soft skin, feeling the cartilage moving under the foreskin.

Harry sobbed as Snape clenched one hand, squeezing Harry's balls painfully. He thrashed and tried to escape, but couldn't, not when Snape had such a firm grip on his cock too and was now mashing that within his grip. Howling, Harry bent over, desperate to protect his genitalia, but it made no difference. Snape continued his torment, forcing the foreskin back so that he could scrape his nails against Harry's slit.

“Stop!” Harry wailed, “Stop! God, please, STOP!”

Snape let go.

His breath was harsh and fast in the room, rebounding off the stone walls. Harry was panting too, feeling the awful throb between his legs as the pain remained.

“You would deny me?” Snape asked, his tone dangerous.

Harry, still crunched over, felt tears spilling. Why hadn't Snape wanted him last year? Why was he now determined to torture Harry? “Please. It hurt.” His voice was small.

Snape pulled Harry upright. “Of course it hurt. It was meant to! You're in the very middle of the Dark Lord's empire – did you expect him to leave you alone to tip-toe through the tulips singing merry songs?! You're mine to do with as I please, and right now, what I please is you, on your knees, sucking my cock.”

Harry stared up at Snape. His eyes had widened at Snape's words and now he shook. He tried to stop himself, but he couldn't. He couldn't remember ever feeling so frightened. Even in the graveyard, facing a newly reborn Voldemort hadn't terrified as much as hearing Snape calmly ordering Harry to give him a blow job.

“No,” he whispered. And then, as though gathering strength he repeated more firmly, “No!”

Snape punched him then. A hard fast blow he hadn't even seen coming. He span, arms spasming as they tried to flail to help him right himself, but still bound, he could only teeter on his toes for a moment before smacking into the wall and sliding down it. His vision went red in one eye and he knew that he was bleeding.

Snape snarled, a dangerous look in his eyes and he prowled over. Harry tried to curl up on himself, but it was impossible. Not when Snape forced him onto his back and straddled him. Snape leant over Harry, his hardness pressing into Harry's stomach and he whispered, spittle on his lower lip, “You don't understand your place yet, do you? Well, let me explain...” Snape rocked his hips back and forth on Harry's body before standing, groaning, and readjusting himself.

In an almost conversational tone, and wasn't that more terrifying than almost being raped, Snape explained everything that Harry needed to know: “You are at Malfoy Manor, in some of the copious dungeons. Your idiot friend Ronald Weasley is in an adjoining room.” Snape pointed with his wand and a window suddenly lit up, shining into the other room, which was a mirror image of this one. In it, Ron was crumpled on the floor, his face still red with the blood that had leaked from his head wound. “Now, I will make reasonable requests of you, Potter. Trust me when I say that complying with my requests will result in better treatment than in being ordered. You will do as I ask.”

“No fucking chance!” Harry snapped.

Calmly, methodically, Snape kicked Harry. He seemed to be aiming for Harry's exposed cock, but missed his aim, catching Harry on a thigh instead.

“I will not tolerate bad language, nor disobedience. Out there,” he indicated the door he had exited through earlier, “are hundreds of Death Eaters all longing to get their hands on you. The Dark Lord has decreed that I am to have you first, and once you are properly trained, you can be given to others for their amusement.”

Snape was silent before adding, “I don't think you'll survive their amusements, so it is really in your own best interests to keep me happy.” He sneered, “And in the best interests of your stupid friend's too.”

“Whatever you refuse to do, Weasley will be forced to. And believe me, being offered the choice will hurt less than it being forced.”

Harry’s eyes went automatically to the window in the wall. It glowed slightly with the magic that had created a window in solid rock. For now, it only showed Ron alone, blood still slowly oozing down his face.

“Stand up,” the Death Eater ordered, voice harsh.

Harry tried to obey, truly he did, but his legs shook and refused to hold his weight. His thigh ached where Snape had kicked him; he was sure the other had managed to jab in just the right way at a muscle to weaken it. He wasn't cold any more; this room was much warmer than the passageway he and Ron had been in for who knew how long, but it still wasn't pleasant, especially not naked with a cock and balls that were still screaming at him to just lie still and never be touched again. He slumped uselessly on the floor, still curling in on his bruised dick, eyes fixed appealingly on Snape.

A sneer was Harry’s answer.

The window suddenly lit up from the other side, and Harry watched in horror as Ron was beaten brutally where he lay. Harry cried out in shock and horror as he saw Ron’s body jerk and spasm with each well placed kick or punch. Ron disappeared from view, Harry’s view blocked by the three black robed figures who were surrounding his friend and attacking him. They were laying into him, their fists thumping into and breaking fragile skin. Ron had stopped moving by the time they literally kicked him across the room to whack into the wall. The boy hit the side and slid painfully down, leaving a smear of dark red fluid on the stonework.

On the floor, he could do little more than cower as two Death Eaters surrounded him and began booting his unprotected body, aiming again and again for his stomach and crotch. Ron’s tattered clothing was easily pulled from his bloodied skin, exposing his naked form to their cruelties.

Harry sobbed, chest heaving as Ron threw his head back, clearly screaming when one figure grabbed his shrunken penis and twisted the flaccid length viciously. His own cock gave a sympathetic pang, still aching from its own mistreatment. Ineffectually, Ron tried to push them away from him, but the unceasing blows gave him no chance. Too many hands and feet were hitting him in too many places for the assaults to be stopped.

Finally, utterly unresisting, Ron’s legs were pried apart, and the three men took turns kicking his balls, their entire strength being sent into each kick. One even stood on the boy’s cock, crushing his pelvis, forcing bone through the punctured skin.

“No!” Harry choked, eyes blurred with helpless tears. His chest heaved with sobs as he could only imagine the agony Ron was feeling. “Stop them,” he cried, tears shining on his cheeks.

Snape looked at Harry's face, eyes seemingly fascinated by the salty fluid rolling over the pale skin. He bent and licked up one cheek, tasting Harry's despair and guilt.

“Exquisite,” he said quietly.

At last, Ron was dragged up to a standing position, and a chain fastened about his neck. His head lolled limply, and when they moved away from him, his entire weight rested on the collar biting into his bloodied throat. His legs hung loosely, and at an odd angle. He gagged and clutched at the metal.

The three figures seemed pleased with their handiwork. They crowded around the boy, finding the rare patches of undamaged skin and jabbed at them with cruel fingers. One even slid his hand between Ron's legs and did something that made Ron shriek and try to get free.

Harry stayed staring at the window as it darkened. He strained to see into that room, but the film of tears over his eyes made it impossible. He turned his head to the blurry figure standing so close to him. Harry couldn’t speak; what words were there when your best friend had been beaten nearly to death? And all because of him?

“Get up,” Snape repeated, voice utterly emotionless, even after what he had witnessed, “kneel facing me.”

Tears streamed down Harry’s face, but he somehow found the energy to do as ordered. He imagined Ron alone in that room with those three monsters, doing who knew what to him. He closed his eyes, two tears spilling down his cheeks as a metal collar magically fit about his neck, tight and unwelcome, claiming him as Snape's property to do with as he pleased. Keeping him within Snape’s room. Trapping him.
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