Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Derailed	By : SickPuppy Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Snape Views: 19739 -:- 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
- 25
- 26
- 27
Chapter Eight: One more promise I couldn't keep

Clutching the diadem, Snape and Harry had made it back to safety. Neville had been fuming that they had had no intention of staying to help, but Harry pushed down the guilt for now, knowing it would attack him later.

Part of the plan they had discussed had considered how they were going to destroy the horcrux once they had it. As they didn't have the Sword of Gryffindor (and it wouldn't present itself to Snape anyway), nor a handy basilisk fang, Snape had reluctantly suggested Fiendfyre. Harry had never heard of the stuff, so had left the destruction of the diadem to Snape.

Whilst Snape was confining the Fiendfyre to one room which only contained the tiara, Harry had started to make a pot of tea and gone in search of some food. He felt weak with relief and hunger and knew the older man would want sustenance too.

Now that the horcrux had been found, Harry was faced with an impossible choice: stay here in safety and watch the whole world suffer or offer himself up as a sacrifice to save everyone. He saw in his mind's eye the disappointment on Neville's face when Harry hadn't returned to lead the rebellion. How could he? And how could Neville really expect him to? They had all heard what had happened to him when the Death Eaters had captured him, how could anyone think he wanted to get anywhere near Snake-face ever again?!

His fingers shook and his eyes flicked to the knife block. Swallowing, he looked away, wanting the decision to be taken from him, needing control in this dreadful moment. How could he be brave? He'd shown no bravery in that room when he'd begged Snape to hurt Ron. All his courage had been ripped out of him and he was just hollow now. Waiting for the older man, he cast the spell to create the metal collar and felt tears of relief drip down his cheeks. Finally! For so long now he had been healing, but nowhere near as quickly as Snape thought. Nowhere near as quickly as Snape wanted him to. He'd pushed down the pain and self-loathing to experience the ecstasy of climax, but it had remained within him, lurking, just waiting for something to give it the strength to escape and take him down.

Hearing a slow tread on the stairs, Harry reluctantly vanished the collar and faced the kettle, wiping his wet face clear of tears. The eyes he turned to Snape were over-bright and his smile too big, but for once, the older wizard was too tired to see the desperation hidden under the surface.

“It's done,” Snape said, his voice weary.

“Did it put up a fight?” Harry asked, back turned to the older man as he made a pot of tea.

“Yes.” Such a simple answer and yet what had happened had been anything but. Voldemort's soul had tormented Snape, challenged him to take what was his and damn the consequences, to slide into that clutching body and revel in possessing the boy. All his dark secret desires had been known to the horcrux and it had shown them to him. And worse, it had shown him a Harry who, beaten and bleeding, had begged for more and more pain, even as Snape pounded into his torn passage.

“It wouldn't take much, you know it wouldn't,” the sibilant voice had hissed, “not much at all to make him want to be degraded. He's so close already. Think how much he loves wearing your collar. All it would take would be the proper discipline. Let me help...”

Body shaking violently, Snape sank into a chair, dropping his head into his hands. It had taken more strength than he'd have ever thought he possessed to resist that voice. That voice that had echoed all his own darkest thoughts back at him and shown him how much Harry would enjoy being abused. But now, he still felt the echo of the arousal he had felt, the arousal that the horcrux had somehow managed to get from his magically controlled body. His balls throbbed with it, the memory making him unable to look at Harry; too afraid to see something that would make him dominate the boy and rip out of him what he wanted to have taken.

Taking a deep breath, Harry pushed down his own whirling confusion, and carried the pot over to the wooden table. He glanced at Snape, seeing the man's quivering flesh, and the hands that covered his eyes from view. It made him glad. Snape was too good at knowing what was tormenting Harry; and Harry didn't want Snape to know he'd put the collar back on, even if only for a few moments.

In bed, later, Snape had seemed reluctant to touch Harry, and had kissed him, but shown unwilling to touch the hard flesh that twitched and jerked against Harry's stomach. Frustrated, Harry had grabbed himself and tugged almost painfully; needing the climax if he was to stand any chance of sleeping.

When Harry awoke in the night, Snape wasn't beside him. Instead he heard a faint desperate groaning coming from some other room. Worried that Snape was ill, Harry crept along the hallway, listening to see where the noise was coming from.

In one of the spare rooms, Snape was sobbing. His cock was hard between his legs, and he was tugging on it painfully, gasping cries of “Harry!” spilling from his lips in awful moans. His eyes were closed, yet tears dripped down his cheeks as he viciously pumped his too aroused flesh. Clamping a palm over his mouth he shook and his hips snapped up, seed exploding out of him in a high arc, splattering onto his clothes and the floor around him.

His head snapped around and he saw Harry standing in the slightly open doorway. Black eyes filled with self-loathing as he recalled what he'd been fantasising about as he'd climaxed: Harry, bent over, tied up so he couldn't come, would never come again; and Snape was bending over him, slamming his prick into the hole he kept magically tight, loving the half screams of pain and pleasure that came from the helpless man. He had imagined squeezing the hard dick painfully, and biting into creamy skin, and tugging on so hard nipples that they nearly tore clean off.

And here was the object of his fantasy. He arose and stalked towards Harry.

Harry stared, something akin to fear on his face. It made Snape hard and he snarled, grabbing for an arm and pulling Harry into the room with him. Snape shoved the younger man onto the bed and forced the legs apart, admiring the buttocks he ached to be between. His hands scratched at the soft skin, raising welts as he claimed this lithe body.

Under him, Harry was squirming, genuinely scared now. “No,” he panted, “No, please, not like this!”

“Hold still!” Snape ordered and rubbed his wet dick against Harry's twitching entrance. It was heaven! Pure heaven. All it would take would be him pushing his way within, and this body could be his again. His balls throbbed, his stomach churned with the arousal burning in him, and his tip oozed fluid onto the tightly clenched muscle. He imagined Harry around him: hot, tight, slick. He growled and snarled cruelly into Harry's ear, “This is going to hurt.”

He heard crying. Not loud sobs, but quiet hiccups of desolation. Harry. His Harry was crying quietly, and in amongst the cries were words, “Do it then, if that's what you need. Just ... just don't make it hurt too much.”

His cock deflated. “Harry! Oh ...” he backed away as though stung and stared in horror at what he'd almost done. He could see glistening liquid between Harry's buttocks, evidence of what he'd nearly forced upon this damaged man.

He fled the room.

Harry, legs spread, almost raped, lay still and tried to organise his chaotic thoughts. Snape had run away, horrified at his loss of control. But all Harry wanted was to be controlled. He had none, and Snape too much. Curling into a ball, he used the wand he'd never let go of (and had never once lifted to defend himself) to conjure the metal collar before trying miserably to sleep.

It was Snape who broached the subject of what had almost happened the next morning. He hadn't returned to Harry's bed the previous night, locking himself instead in a small living room and re-casting the charm that he had so disastrously undone earlier. He had sat staring into the slowly burning fire, eyes reflecting the red and gold of the flames, but not really seeing them dancing. Instead he was hearing Harry giving him permission to take what he wanted, allowing him; even knowing it would hurt, Harry had still not refused him.

He felt sick at the very idea.

In the morning he hadn't given Harry his usual pleasure; he had knocked on the door and commented quietly, “Breakfast is ready,” then left. He had seen the collar, but had known he had no right to criticise. If Harry had survived last night with nothing worse than the collar, he was much stronger than he realised.

Now, after food had been eaten in silence, and tea drunk, Snape burst out, “I apologise. I – I never meant to … I shall leave at once, of course.”

Harry had given Snape a cool, assessing glance. He still wore the metal band, needing an extra morsel of control. “And go where?” he asked. “He will kill you within minutes.”

“It's no more than I deserve, for what I almost did.”

“You almost did it. You didn't. You stopped. So why should you suffer for something that never even happened?” Harry felt pity for Snape, “All this time you've done anything I wanted, but never had the chance to release. Only you could think that a failure when your body finally rebelled.”

“It was the horcrux,” Snape said and blinked when Harry started laughing. He suddenly heard what he'd said and smiled softly, realising how ridiculous it sounded as an excuse.

“Then,” Harry stood up and cautiously approached Snape, “I'm not in any danger now, am I?”

Snape tilted his head back and opened his mouth to be kissed by the remarkable young man who still, despite it all, wanted him.
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