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Because We Are Snakes	By : Setsuna24 Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Voldemort Views: 44500 -:- Recommendations : 2 -:- Currently Reading : 19
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter nor any recognizable characters or materials I make no money from this story and its just written for fun

Chapter List
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I had to take out all the Author's Notes and it took me forever because my editing tools did not want to work. I am working on the next chapter. The responses to your comments will be put on a forum topic as soon as I have a moment to create one and I will post a link for it here so you know where to look for it.

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Because We Are Snakes – The First Taste Of Revenge

The novelty of the Umbridge line of gossip lasted far less than Harry has initially calculated it would. Exactly four days after the incident was reported in the Prophet, absolutely no mention of it was made again by any of the gossip mongering mouths of the Hogwarts’ populace. They, along with the rest of the Wizarding World, had moved on to the next bit of comment worthy social happenings; something or other about one of the Holyhead Harpies getting pregnant and the ensuing scandal because the child’s father was the husband of another Harpy, Harry wasn’t really paying much attention to it to be honest.

The fickle masses of the Wizarding World sure had the collective attention span of a toddler, Harry didn’t care, it suited him just fine that they were other ways distracted. Though it did make him wonder if people would have forgotten about him and the debacle after the TriWizard Tournament in just as short a time had the Ministry not been making the Prophet release a new article for their smear campaign every five seconds. Probably.

‘Damn Ministry… Fucking Fudge.’

For once Harry was thankful that the sheeple of Magical Britain tended to focus completely in one scandal once it was made known to them… thankfully the current scandal was not about him, which was also good.

At the Slytherin table there was a commotion. Excitement as well as jealousy could be seen in the cracks of the purebloods’ masks as they took in the seriously cool gift Draco Malfoy had taken out of a box an owl had just dropped on the table for him. It was the kind of gift even Lucius Malfoy would find himself hard pressed to acquire. The young heir’s mouth hung open in shock even as his eyes shone with barely contained glee.

The smug little bastard was milking the exoticness of his present, and why not? It was a really cool one. Harry had sent it to him as a bit of an incentive to keep in the line and do as he is told as well as a ‘well done’ sort of thing for being able to lead Umbridge into Harry’s trap without putting his foot in his mouth.

There were cat calls and a couple of lewd comments as someone –Harry was sure it was Zabini- had snatched the attached note and read it out loud. Honestly, when will Malfoy learn to read his correspondence after he has ensured no one is peeking at it or without letting someone take it from him? He will have to talk to the blond about it if he came to complain again about the love notes and whatever they may make Slytherin house believe. If Malfoy wasn’t discrete with his correspondence then it was his own fault if rumors about his supposed secret girlfriend started to circulate. Harry knew that there was already a betting pool to try and guess who the lucky girl was –he suspected the twins were capitalizing on this- and there were plenty of names to speculate about since in every house there was at least six or seven girls of various ages whose name started with ‘H’.

He knew for sure someone had even said it might be a secret forbidden love affair like that of Romeo and Juliet between Draco Malfoy and -oddly enough- Hermione of all people. He had no idea who started that particular rumor or who Lavender had said it to but he had heard her in passing as he walked to divination one day. That rumor was strangely picking up steam and growing into an epic romance tale two days after the first note and he was sure it would explode into something truly crazy after this one. He was surprised Hermione herself had not heard of it yet, or worse, Malfoy…or even worse still, Ron. Then again, Hermione hardly talked to girls other than Ginny who has been understandably occupied with being sick and no one would have the balls to say such a thing to Malfoy lest they want him to have his father ‘hear about it.’ In the same way, no one was willing to bring such a subject up with Ron because everyone but Ron himself was aware of his liking of Hermione and they were not willing to chance his very likely outraged blow-up.

Someone called for the note to be read again and its current holder–yes it had been Zabini- stood on the bench and stretched his arm up so Draco could not reach his hand as he read for the gathering students to hear.

Honestly, sometimes the Slytherins acted almost… Gryffindor… it was mildly distressing.

Dearest Draco,
I was very pleased with how things turned out when we last saw each other and the wonderful present you brought me. Because I am so incredibly pleased with your resourcefulness I decided to gift you something I think you will enjoy.
A dragon for my dragon; since I know of your fascination for your namesakes.
Love,
H

There were hoots and hollers –the subdued Slytherin versions of those at least- and congratulatory words.

Malfoy blushed two shades of Weasley red but still remained smug and self satisfied that he had been acknowledged for doing something right as his nose went real high in the air. The boy thrived on praise, Harry realized, it was something to keep in mind for future reference.

Everyone around the self satisfied Malfoy heir offered their opinions about the red little dragon with a bejeweled collar and attached leash that crawled up Malfoy’s arm and settled on his right shoulder. Harry had never seen Malfoy puff as big as he was at the moment; it made him think of a rooster or a peacock for some reason.

The small and outrageously expensive little dragon was a scale model of a real Chinese Fireball just like the one used at the TriWizard Tournament. Harry had actually tracked down the maker of the exclusive life-like and moving models and sent in the Hungarian Horntail he had pulled out of the sack which he had been able to keep after the tournament and had it exchanged for the Chinese Fireball because he figured it would be the height of all obvious maneuvers to gift Draco Malfoy his own Horntail model. It would be akin to waving a flag under a bright neon sign wile screaming ‘there is something going on involving Malfoy and myself, do pry about it.’

Breakfast ended in a cloud of curious conjecture and renewed interest in Malfoy’s love life, Harry was happy not to be the center of attention and positively amused by the discomfort Malfoy was showing at the increasingly personal questions Zabini was teasing him with.

It was a beautiful Tuesday morning and he made his way through the cold yet inviting hallways of the castle on his way to his Snape instructed Defense class, once you ignored his caustic remarks and bastardly general attitude the man wasn’t half bad as an instructor for this particular subject. Harry would venture to say Snape was even the best teacher they’ve had during the time he has been in the school -Lupin and fake Moody included though they were far better than Quirrelmort, Lockhart, and Umbitch. At the very least if Snape did not come out top one Defense teacher out of the list of academical failures they had been exposed to, he was truly as far as Harry had seen, the most knowledgeable out of all the professors that came through the post. Harry was sure the man still hated his guts and likely wanted to kill him but this hardly detracted from his near top one position on the mental ‘who is the best defense teacher we’ve had’ list, it actually seemed to be a requirement for the teaching position so Harry could hardly hold it against the man. At least Snape was consistent in his hatred of Harry and one had to admire somewhat a man willing to stick to his beliefs… or something. Either way, the list was currently Snape, Lupin, Fake Moody, Quirellmort, Lockhart, and Umbridge.

Yes, even Lockhart was better than Umbridge… if only because his incompetence forced you to learn counter spells and defensive measures to whatever idiocy he unleashed in the classroom, while Umbridge just had you sit down and read the lamest of books since the invention of paper.

And Harry knew about lame book reading, he had read Dudley’s old dictionary from cover to cover once because he had been left alone a whole weekend at the house while the Dursleys vacationed and had been prohibited from doing or touching anything that could have entertained him so he was limited to reading and in no way was he going to even go near Aunt Petunia’s stash of Harlequin romance novels.

So Snape was top one, the man really knew his stuff. It was simple as that.

This was not to say that he was a great teacher, Harry was sure this was something he could never say for the austere and sour man, but he was better at teaching Defense than he was at teaching Potions. It was not that he was more gifted at the subject or that the Defense classes as instructed by Snape were a walk on the park or that the man was at any length less of a perfectionist arse in his expectations or less of an outright prick to his students. No, it was that Defense was a far much easier concept over all to understand than the subtleties of a slow simmering cauldron and all such rot as the one Snape described in his very lengthy speech back in first year.

With practice anyone could eventually move their wand the right way, point it at the bad guy, and shout the right spell with the correct incantation and voice inflection. Potions was a precise art not many had the patience or understanding for, much less the appreciation. Harry did, but that was something he would keep to himself as he continues to willingly barely scrape by in passing the class. Harry understood the subtleties of Potions even if he pretended he didn’t for appearances sake, though this didn’t mean he was great at it. He was definitely above good and average, but nowhere near Snape.

He was not as deluded as to not acknowledge that Snape was a Potions genius, he wasn’t that blind, and knew that he would never be as good as the dour man. Snape was truly a Master of the subtle art and science of Potions making; it was perhaps why he hated teaching so much and why he got so frustrated with his students and their constant lack of perfection and attention to detail in their performance. Harry was convinced; teaching was not what Snape had wanted to do with his life when he thought about the future, unless it was teaching an apprentice who showed great promise. Though he could see that if the man had had a choice he would have chosen to teach Defense and not Potions, it must frustrate the man so bad to have to deal with the daily disasters of the Hogwarts population as they constantly underperformed before a Master at the art.

Not for the first time as he casted a stunner at Seamus in a mock duel during Defense class, Harry wondered why Snape had allowed himself to be trapped by Dumbledore –or Voldemort- into a life he so hated, it was no wonder the man was so bitter with life… having your talents waste away teaching ungrateful children must be torture. Wasting his time and talents when they could be put to better use in research and development of new potions and improving old ones. It made sense why the man only accepted EE students into his Advanced NEWTs Level Potions class; Harry too would want to weed out the incompetents as soon as he was able to, just so he didn’t have to deal with them anymore.

‘Agh, enough about Snape!’ the man seriously did not deserve that much time of quiet contemplation.

All this thinking about their current Defense Professor made him think about the previous one; today was the day her hell will begin. Harry could hardly wait.

The day moved in such a slow pace it was driving him up the wall with concealed excitement and impatience. Lunch seemed to last days as he subjected himself to Ron’s new rant about something or other, to be frank he was not paying attention but the droning on of his ‘best mate’s’ voice was starting to make his mouth fill with the telltale sweetness of gathering poison. Hermione’s sympathetic looks from the other side of the large table were not doing anything at all to help, if anything, they were making the fact that he had to fake being interested and nod at the right times much more annoying.

He was thankful to any god paying attention when the day ended and he pretended to go to bed, shortly after Ron had followed and as soon as the snoring from across the room hit his ears Harry was sighing in relief.

He wasn’t sure how much longer he would be able to keep up this tiresome charade. Every day it was getting harder to tolerate the selfish and self involved jealous ignoramus that was Ronald Weasley. He might have to engineer another fight between the Golden Trio, if only so he could have another two weeks of relative peace and silence. Gods Christmas break couldn’t come sooner, hopefully he would only have to suffer the Weasleys #6 and #7 for the Christmas dinner and gift opening portion of the holiday, after that he was crossing his fingers they and the rest of Dumbledore’s sycophants left #12 so he could hit the Black family library and see what books from there he could squirrel away before Mrs. Weasley decided to ‘clean up’ the place and tossed them out. He was definitely salvaging the darker texts and those regarding history and magical traditions, such knowledge just didn’t deserve to be thrown away because of the Light side’s ignorant bigotry.

Once he was sure everyone was asleep and it was safe to come out, he made his way to the Chambers.

She was fitly covered in blood and her own filth when he came into the room Umbridge was being held at. Tears ran over the open cuts on her face, once the cuts produced by the Blood Quill could no longer fit on the back of her hand it started cutting higher and higher up her arm, moving to her chest, down to her stomach, on the other arm and face and after days of constant uninterrupted use it moved to cover all over her body.

The words ‘I will not survive the end of my punishment.’ oozed blood constantly and the floor were a sticky combination of red, brown, and yellow.

“You are disgusting.” He said from his position at the door. “Look at you covered in your own blood and waste, who is the filthy one now?”

She whimpered as an answer and tried to move away from him even as her hand continued to write the lines again and again. Harry used a cleaning charm to make a path toward the woman and stopped in front of her. It smelled disgusting and all kinds of stomach twisting in the small closed room but he would bear it for the sake of seeing her suffer at his hands.

“Crucio.” He said casually and held the curse for six whole seconds.

Harry took off the silencing charm, he wanted to hear her scream, and used the torture curse on her four more times. Her voice was broken and scratchy after it.

He seriously did not see what Voldemort liked so much about this particular curse. It was so impersonal… sure it had that warm pleasurable and tantalizing feeling at the pit of his stomach but because he was not true Dark but rather a darker shade of Grey he could not fully enjoy basking in the sweet darkness. Besides, the curse lacked the gore he wanted to see in his victim.

With his wand pointed at her bared feet he said “Abscondo Corium.” and two inches by one inch strips of skin peeled off of her. The skin peeling curse was a spell he had first thought about in relation to Snape but never really went the length of crafting it but after his bullshit trial he had been working on it since the beginning of term just for her. He was happy all his hard work had turned out beautiful.

‘Let’s try its variation now.’ He thouth.

And with a cruel smirk he uttered “Abscondo Acidum Corium.” The strip of skin peeled off and the faint smell of burning flesh and smoke rose from the fresh wound the spell had caused. Umbridge screamed even louder in her broken voice and more tears came running down her face.

“Not so good when you are the one bleeding at someone else’s mercy is it? When you are the one whose flesh is being torn and marked? But don’t worry, we will continue this lessons until the message has sink in… and then some. Be sure Umbridge, and make peace with it, you will not survive this punishment and before I’m even halfway done with it you are going to be begging me for death and I still will not give it to you. Not until I’m done punishing you and have gotten bored with making you scream.”

Yes, the acid peeling skin was his favorite torture spell. He was glad he spent the time to make the variation of his original idea.

He hit her with the spell several more times before he was satisfied with her screams for the day and then left for the Tower feeling tons lighter.

That night he dreamt about the door again but somehow, at some point the dream changed into an expanse of darkness in which he could hardly see. In that dark place that seemed so real; cold hands touched him and a hard body larger than his own did the most wicked, pleasurable, things to him as he was taken again and again. He woke up the next morning sweaty, sticky, and achingly hard. He was positively disgusted with his body’s need for sexual satisfaction, there was no way he was EVER engaging in that sort of activity, not after that bastard had defiled him.

He had no idea what was happening to him but these dreams had to stop –and take the red glowing eyes with them. Last thing he needed was to be associating his mind’s sexual theater with that psychopath.
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Because We Are Snakes