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Invictus	By : starcrossedkayla Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Snape Views: 13268 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 19
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- 21
Creating the rescue note out of sheets torn from the books had left Potter in a mood so buoyant, Severus could see the bounce in his step even through the mirror. Since Potter had responded so well to their little talk, and since the Dark Lord would be arriving the following night, Severus decided to take Albus’s advice and treat Potter as an adult. It wasn’t as if he had any other options. He hadn’t slept in four days, and none of the potions he’d attempted to brew had worked.

Of course, trying to treat Potter as a competent adult turned out to be a huge mistake.

It didn’t start off poorly. He arrived in the morning to feed Potter breakfast, pausing outside the door to close his eyes.

When he stepped into the cage, Potter didn’t try to attack him, but yawned and stretched and slid out of bed. He eyed Severus warily as he took his seat, but other than a half-hearted, “Why are you still here?” he didn’t offer much in the way of objection. The calming potions had worked wonderfully. If only they could work through future sexual assaults.

Severus took the chair opposite him. “I have a proposal for you, but you won’t like it. Eat your meal and then I’ll tell you.”

Potter crossed his arms, his face taking on that mulish expression he so loved. “I want to hear it first.”

How on earth would this ever work? Severus stared at the ceiling and wished that he had set up the mirror in front of Albus’s portrait so that the former Headmaster could see for himself what a snotty little brat he’d created. “You’ll hear it after you eat. If you refuse to eat, then I’ll leave until you do.”

Potter didn’t budge. “Why don’t you return after I eat?”

With a straight face, Severus said, “I don’t watch you continuously. I have no desire to return repeatedly until you’ve cleaned your plate.”

The green eyes narrowed, but then Potter picked up his juice and drank it. He ate slowly, starting with the laced mangoes. After a few bites, he seemed to forget Severus’s presence and he gulped everything down as if he hadn’t been fed the day before.

After he finished, Severus sent the empty dishes upstairs. He closed his eyes, cursed the world for putting him in this position, then opened his eyes and said, “The Dark Lord will return tomorrow night. He will want to see you tortured. He may want to see more of . . . what happened before.”

Potter stilled, his face turning a ghastly shade of white. He stared at the table.

“Others may demand access to you, but I might be able to keep them away if I claim you as my own. Of course, if I claim you, I must have regular access to you. If you would . . . perform with me, privately, before the Dark Lord arrives, I don’t believe that he would demand a public performance.”

His eyes flickering briefly towards Severus’s face, Potter scoffed and shook his head. “I’m not doing anything I don’t have to.”

Of course the brat would have to be difficult about this. “Do you want to be raped by Avery?”

“Fuck you.” Potter shoved back from the table and jumped to his feet. Crossing his arms, he walked over and leant against the bars, facing away from Severus. “I want to kill him, but you wouldn’t let me do that.”

Even if he could, he wouldn’t. Despite everything that had happened, everything that had been said, Avery had done too much for him to be killed, even for this. “I can’t,” he said. He was getting nowhere. He tried again, “Potter, I don’t want to see him torture you.”

Potter let out a hollow, bitter laugh. “Yeah, because you want to do it.”

Nothing could be further from the truth. “Believe me, Potter, I feel no attraction to your scrawny, pathetic body. You have nothing that could possibly interest me.”

Whirling around, Potter snapped, “You’re an ugly, greasy freak. You raped me because no one in their right mind would let you touch them.”

The girl hissed, “I bet this is the only way you’ll ever get laid.”

“Enough.” He stood. “Either we do this now and it will be quick and painless, or you will be raped and tortured in front of an audience. Perhaps by multiple men.” Potter turned away from him. “Perhaps by a sharp object. What I did to you was nothing compared to what they will do to you if you let them.”

Potter clutched the bars, his shoulders hunched, the baggy clothes slipping off his skinny frame. “I . . . I can’t.”

How difficult did he intend to make this? “All you have to do is lie still. It is certainly easier than the disgusting act I must do.” He knew it was risky to portray himself as disgusted by sex with Potter, but surely the Dark Lord would accept it as a form of strategy....

Potter’s hand tightened around the bar so hard, his fingers turned deathly white. He released the bar and, not looking at Severus’s face, headed towards the bed. “Fine,” he said. “But it has to be on my terms.”

Severus would agree to nearly anything as long as Potter spread his legs and didn’t put up much of a fuss. He gave a nod to show his assent and slid out of his outer robe, laying it neatly across the chair.

Potter had seated himself on the edge of bed, but remained fully dressed.

The sooner they started this, the sooner it would end. He’d slipped a mild aphrodisiac into his tea before he’d headed downstairs, but even with its help, arousal remained elusive. “You should undress.”

“You should undress,” mumbled Potter, his eyes fixed on the floor.

Of course the prat would do his best to make things difficult. “I don’t need to undress. At least remove your bottoms.”

Flipping the bed sheet entirely over himself, Potter fumbled with his clothes under the cover.

Could there be anything less erotic? Concentrate. Steadfastly, he undid the buttons on his trousers, leaving the top one in place should Potter change his mind. Imagine an escort sucking your cock. Jessica, perhaps. Or Belle, she was the best.

Potter emerged from the swath of red, his chest still covered, and his waist and legs hidden under the blanket.

No matter what he did, this child would never be erotic. Firmly, he ordered, “Undress.”

Potter crossed his arms, glaring hotly at Severus from under his messy fringe. “I took off my pyjama bottoms, you arsehole.” He nodded at Severus’s groin. “Take out yours and I’ll show you mine.”

Pull out his cock in front of Potter’s critical eye? Never. “Annoying prat.” He swept forward and yanked off the sheet.

A flash of black warned him that Potter had been lying about the clothes a second before pain erupted from Severus’s groin, stealing his breath and landing him on his knees.

Oh, fuck! Oh, fuck! White blinded him. His bollocks! He clutched them protectively. Had they been smashed? FUCK!

Potter surged forward, groping through Severus’s robes for something.

His wand. Where was his wand?

Fuck!

He grabbed the nearest bit of Potter he could reach and cast, “Petrificus totalus!” with Albus’s wand, which was hidden in his sleeve.

Potter fell to the floor. Fumbling in his robe pocket, Severus’s fingers closed over the stick of wood and he sighed. His wand. His vision still fuzzy, he Summoned his outer robe and hobbled out of the cage, clutching his groin. Merlin, that little shit could kick hard. Somehow, he managed to remember to close the bars behind him as he staggered towards the library, popping open a healing capsule. Inside the library, he undid the last button and pushed down his trousers and pants. He gingerly felt his swollen testicles. Bloody hell, they hurt.

“Fuck!”

Fumbling in his robes, he fetched a healing salve and carefully rubbed it into the bruised flesh.

If that bastard had destroyed his bollocks, he’d kill him.

As the flesh healed, the pain subsided. If he’d been damaged at all, he’d deal the same amount of damage to Potter. That prat. He probably hadn’t meant a word of what he said. He’d just been waiting for a chance to strike.

Once the pain was just a low ache, Severus straightened and tucked himself away. He doubted that all the aphrodisiacs in his cupboard could give him an erection now, but there were other ways of raping Potter.

Grabbing a quill from the table, he marched into Potter’s cage. He nudged the prone form with his foot and said, “Remember that I tried to be reasonable with you. This is entirely your fault. Mobilicorpus!.” He floated Potter in the air and, turning him face down, cast the chaining spell, binding his wrists to the bedposts closest to the bars. He released the body bind and Potter’s knees fell to the bed, his legs out over the edge. Quickly, before the boy could react, Severus swooped in and grabbed the back of Potter’s neck in one hand, yanking down his bottoms with the other.

“Fucking bastard!” Potter bucked, but Severus was quicker and caught his testicles, stilling him.

In Potter’s ear, Severus hissed. “Try that again and I’ll cut them off.”

“Fuck you.”

“Langlock.”

Potter jerked his upper arms, but only slightly.

His grip tight, but not enough to hurt, Severus said, “I could numb you enough that you’d never feel pain. Anything else you want to lose? A finger? Your eyes? Your tongue? I’d love to take it.” He slid the hand on Potter’s neck around to the front, enjoying the thundering pounding of Potter’s heartbeat as he squeezed lightly. Potter screwed his eyes shut, his face reddening. “Don’t think I won’t do it, boy.”

Releasing Potter’s bollocks, he Summoned the quill. “You’re mine now and I’m only keeping you for your protection. Hurt me again and I’ll give you to Avery.” Transforming and expanding the quill, he turned it into a thick rectangular block nearly as large as his forearm. “I’ll watch as he forces something like this-” he floated the block in front of Potter’s face “-into you over and over again. Look at it.”

Potter kept his eyes tightly shut.

Severus grabbed Potter’s hair. “Look at it, boy, or I’ll make you look.”

Potter’s left leg kicked at Severus as he opened his eyes. Releasing his throat and hair, Severus grabbed his ankles and pushed them apart. “You’ve earned this.” He conjured ropes and tied Potter in place. An odd, high noise emerged from Potter’s mouth as he thrashed against the bonds.

“Aveho sordes! Oleum!”

The desperate noises emerging from Potter’s throat intensified. Ignoring them, Severus plucked the transfigured quill out of the air. Behind Potter’s back, he shrank it down to a small size and transformed it to match a butt plug he’d seen in one of the books. Potter’s entire body shook as though struck with the Cruciatus. Severus grabbed Potter’s thigh, spreading the cheeks with his thumb. Potter frantically shook his head, and Severus caught a glimpse of a red face.

Too red. Shit.

Desperately trying to speak, Potter had cut off his own airway. Releasing him, Severus removed Langlock, and took a step back. Sharp wheezes burst from Potter’s lungs as he gasped, gulping down air, but somehow still short of breath.

He was hyperventilating.

Severus cast an oxygenation spell. “Breathe with your diaphragm, not with your lungs.”

Potter’s chest heaved, his mouth stretched wide. He wasn’t listening. He was too frightened to remember how to breathe.

Severus freed him from the ropes and chains. A small cry escaped Potter’s lips and he scurried to the other end of the bed, pulling the crimson sheet tightly around himself. Another high-pitched cry escaped him, but he closed his mouth and breathed deep breaths though his nose, his eyes tightly shut.

It was over. He had no way of convincing Potter to agree to rape outside of the throne room. He’d have to let the others have him. Not wanting to leave the boy in this condition, Severus took a chair and waited for Potter to calm.

Curled up in his cocoon of blankets, Potter lay facing away from him, his breath slowly evening out, the tremors subsiding.

He needed a drink. He needed to be back at Hogwarts. “It will be worse in the throne room.”

Potter didn’t turn from the wall. “I- I don’t be-lieve you.”

How could the boy be so damn stubborn? “You will once Avery has you.”

“You- you hate me.”

What did that have to do with anything? “So?”

“You . . . you raped me. And now you-” He let out a little moan, his shoulders shaking, his breath coming quicker. “You-”

Oh Merlin, if he could be anywhere but here.... He couldn’t do this. He rubbed his face, trying to ignore the queasiness in his stomach. “I did it because I don’t want Avery to have you. I’m trying to protect you from him.”

Potter shuddered. “Why do you- care what Aver-” he sucked in a huge breath. “What Avery does to me?”

He’d done his best to play the monster and he knew, by most Order standards, he was, but still the question caught him off guard. He had to think before he said, “When I became Headmaster, I swore an oath to protect Hogwarts and its students. I couldn’t kill you, even if I wanted to. Every time I hurt you, the spell punishes me.”

Potter wiped his face against the blankets and shifted slightly to gaze at Severus. The reddened flesh around his eyes contrasted sharply with the brilliant green. “I’m not a student.”

“You should be and, as far as Hogwarts is concerned, you are. The wards would allow you onto the grounds should you try.” That part was true.

“You said that you- couldn’t hurt me because Voldemort-” Severus twitched at the name. “-wouldn’t let you.”

“That is true as well.”

“Why?”

“I can’t tell you.”

Potter gazed up at the ceiling.

Severus tried again. “What can I do to convince you?”

His breath shuddering, his voice thick, Potter said, “Let me go. ”

Potter had been in danger before, but now, with the Dark Lord cognizant of the hunt for the Horcruxes, the boy wouldn’t remain free for long. As of now, he lived solely because of the Horxcrux inside of him. The more he showed himself to be a risk to the other, more permanently hidden Horcruxes, the greater the likelihood of his premature death. “That isn't an option.”

Potter turned back towards the wall.

“Perhaps I could create a potion. If you are sufficiently aroused-”

“I can’t stand the thought of you touching me. It makes me sick.” Pulling his blanket tighter around himself, Potter curled up further. “You’re so . . . hideous.”

After all these years, he should have been used to unfavourable remarks on his visage. He didn't care about fashion anyway. Why bother spending time perfecting one's body when one's mind was the more important aspect? Still, the comment burnt him. He studied his hands and refused to let the ghost of Tobias rise and repeat those lines that came to him unbidden when he lowered his guard.

His voice rising in volume, Potter said, “Your hair is greasy and your teeth are yellow and crooked. Your fingers-”

He stood. “That's enough." He didn't need to hear a list of his faults. He'd gathered plenty from students’ minds over the years. “I need to work and you need to take your healing potion.” He fetched a sleeping potion from his robes.

Potter didn't budge. “I'm healed. I've been healed.”

“Not entirely. The one I gave you in your last meal should wear off soon and intestines are notoriously difficult to heal. I don't want to leave you in pain.”

Shifting up into a sitting position, the blanket still covering him from head to toe, Potter crossed his arms. “You don't want to be in pain.”

Perhaps it had been a mistake to lie about that. Now Potter might try to hurt himself to hurt Severus. “Nor that,” he acknowledged, hoping to ease some of the boy's anger. “Look, Potter, if you had told me about Avery, I would have taken measures to keep him away from you. Don’t ever hide anything from me.”

That was exactly the wrong thing to say. Potter's eyes narrowed to slits and he trembled. He spat out, “You bastard. If you hadn't killed Dumbledore, I wouldn't be here. If you hadn't killed Sirius, I’d be free. Or my parents. You know what? Fuck you, you disgusting piece of shit. I'd rather take Avery-”

“Langlock!”

Potter flicked him off and turned back to face the wall.

This would never work. Too much anger poisoned their relationship. Severus cast the body bind, released Potter’s tongue, and fed him the sleeping potion. As it took its effect, he removed the memory. If he did this right, Potter would never notice the missing meal nor expanse of time.

He was nearly out of time. He’d taken too much and used an alarming amount of magic. His next attempt would have to stay.

“I can’t stand the thought of you touching me.”

He needed a potion that would make Potter crave contact. Something that would turn his touch into an addiction. Something non-permanent that would only exist during sexual contact. He needed help.

Striding to his lab, he fetched the list of Potions Masters Young had collected for him. Sixteen Potions Masters had been cited three times in Potions Journals, and nearly half of those more than that. In his lab, he pulled out sixteen pieces of parchment and charmed them to match the writing on the first.

I require a potion designed to increase enjoyment of tactile sensation for the purposes of sexual stimulation. The ideal brew will function well with other potions commonly and uncommonly used for this activity, as well as fade after use with no long-term effects.

He folded the letters, sealed them (even though he knew they would be read by the couriers), and touched his Mark, summoning one of the ever-present Death Eaters guarding his location. He’d finished addressing his letters when two young Death Eaters appeared on the landing. Crossing the lab, he thrust the letters in their hands and said, “I need these delivered as soon as possible and I expect the replies before tonight.”

It was a difficult task, but he hadn’t any time to waste. They both nodded, bowed, and left, and he returned to his lab to work on his project. The Clone Potion had progressed better than expected, to the point where Mobilicorpus pulled the unfinished cloned body out of the cauldron. He’d only used the spell twice, as he didn’t want to disrupt the body.

The first reply arrived after three hours.

Have you looked into mixing a Cheer Potion into an aphrodisiac? Enjoyment of tactile stimulation naturally increases upon arousal, and the heightened mood will make the subject all the more receptive to physical stimulation.

Cheer Potions and Calming Potions didn't mix well, but even if they had, it would take more than a Cheer Potion to raise Potter’s mood and receptivity. He wrote back, explaining the necessary calming potions.

The next letter simply said, Any aphrodisiac would do. and Severus wrote back, explaining in detail why that response was the most insipid answer he’d ever received to a query.

The next few replies were only slightly more helpful. It wasn’t until well into the evening that Severus received a useful letter from a Potions Master he’d never heard of before. From a Michael Lusk, who lived in Hackney.

Certain groups of Muggles use Methylenedioxymethamphetamine, a synthetic drug derived from Sassafras, to produce euphoric states. It is well-known for heightening all the senses, including touch. For some, arousal is a side effect, although orgasm can be difficult to achieve. With precaution, it leaves no long-term effect in the subject, although unwanted emotional bonding can occur during use.

“Bring me Benjamin Young,” he told the Death Eater who’d brought him the response. As soon as the Death Eater had gone, he hurried to the library to grab every single Muggle book he had on chemistry and pharmaceuticals and brought them to his lab.

Methylenedioxymethamphetamine, otherwise known as MDMA or ecstasy, was first synthesized in 1912 by Anton Kollisch....

By the time the Death Eater returned with Young, Severus had written a note asking pointed questions and requesting a pure sample. He motioned for them both to enter the lab and thrust the letter into the other boy’s hands. “Pay him however much he needs.” He turned to Young and said, “Have you heard of a Muggle drug called MDMA?”

His brow furrowing, Young shook his head.

He’d expected the answer to be negative and held out a piece of parchment. “Here are the details I’ve gathered so far. I want to know everything you can find on this drug. It has been studied in conjunction with psychology, so you might want to check that literature first before delving into chemistry.”

Young took the parchment and studied the words. “A University, then?”

Thank Merlin for half-bloods. “Exactly. Return by ten tomorrow morning.” He fetched a few potions from his private collection of enhancements and poured them into vials for Young, marking them as he explained their uses. “A mental stimulant. A wakefulness potion. A clarity potion. Take the first one now, the next two the minute you feel tired. This is of utmost importance. Now go.”

“Yessir.” Young bowed. “Thank you, sir.”

If the boy helped him pull this off, he would reward him as best he could. He turned back to the literature. How had he not heard of this drug before? He’d been remiss not to increase his investigations into pharmaceuticals.

When the final response to his query of the Potions Masters arrived, he read the useless letter and sent the Death Eater to find sassafras. After that, he sent every Death Eater who stopped by to a different location in the UK to collect books where he might gather more information on MDMA.

Young returned the next morning with a thick stack of scrolls and books. By then, Severus had amassed a considerable amount of information. He’d broken down the components of MDMA and discovered that by increasing serotonin and flooding the system with oxytocin, he should be able to produce a similar effect to MDMA in Potter whilst avoiding the deleterious side effects known to sometimes follow doses.

If he did this right, he could brew a potion that would diminish pain, aggression, fear, and anxiety; increase intimacy, empathy, and forgiveness; enhance enjoyment of social experiences; and form a temporary bond of trust between individuals on the potion and those in close proximity. True, the books and Lusk warned that the brain required time to build up serotonin levels between usages, which meant that the drug should only be given sparingly, but he might be able to fix that.

“Sit.” He motioned for Young to take a chair beside where two other Death Eaters were copying information down for him. “I want to know every possible negative side effect. Copy everything onto this scroll.” He tossed the scroll on the worktable and headed over to the cauldron boiling with his latest attempt.

His samples of MDMA had arrived in powder form - simple enough to mix into a potion, but it had its risks and he only wanted to give it to Potter as a last resort. Oxytocin broke down in the gastrointestinal tract and, when injected or breathed, barely lasted ten minutes. Unless he was to give Potter an extremely high dose - and risk toxic effects - he needed to find a way to deliver oxytocin slowly, outside of the gut, as well as combine it with a serotonin enhancer, an aphrodisiac, an analgesic, and a muscle relaxant. Every ingredient he added, the more likely it would react poorly with another, triggering an adverse reaction.

More importantly, he needed to brew it, test it, and try it on Potter, all before the Dark Lord returned in less than ten hours.

He needed a miracle.
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Invictus