Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Madrigal	By : Rotisserie_Cassowary Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Snape/Hermione Views: 7984 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 2
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
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The next few weeks passed in a holding pattern, as I was vigilantly keeping her at arm’s length. She came to my laboratory every night, and we worked together professionally and efficiently, if not awkwardly. Our output of potions was impressive as ever. After a lot of insistence on her part, I was even allowing her to help me with some of the slightly less dangerous work the Dark Lord had assigned me. We were making fantastic strides in our research project as well. Our Legilimency lessons I had allowed to lapse, however.
I guess I was too terrified of what I might find… of what she might find. I didn’t even understand the depth of my own feelings about her, so I was terrified at the prospect of her poking around in my head again. I sheltered a profusion of highly inappropriate thoughts inside the dark corners of my mind, and the last thing I wanted was for her to be disgusted or terrified by me.
You’re a filthy, sick pervert. You may not be a rapist, but you’re far from innocent. If she knew the sordid, depraved things you’re into… she’d turn and run. She’s a perfectly immaculate young woman. You think she’s going to be into the rough, degrading kind of shit you’re into? Please…
In moments of weakness, I would allow her to hug me goodnight. When I felt arousal building between my legs, I’d send her immediately on her way. I took a lot of cold showers, having resolved to stop entertaining inappropriate fantasies about her. I cut myself off from masturbation cold turkey, hoping to end the positive feedback loop that had been slowly convincing my brain that any of this shit was a good idea.
One Friday night at the end of January, the Dark Lord summoned me for an update on my progress in my self-appointed task of seducing Hermione and thereby collecting information on Potter. I showed him carefully curated scenes from our stay at Grimmauld Place. I hid the more lascivious shots, such as her undressing me in the restroom and perversely sucking on my thumb, for future use. I fully intended to never touch her again, so I needed to keep the charade going as long as possible.
He was unhappy with my progress, however, and took out his displeasure on me. I was Cruciated for a number of hours, but then Bellatrix wandered in and decided she wanted to join the fun. Never one to turn down an offer from his favorite pet, He sat back and watched impassively as Bellatrix savaged me like a dog with a bone.
She vanished all my clothing, leaving me kneeling fully naked on the ground in front of them. My skeletal knees dug into the flagstone floor; my over-stimulated nerve endings seared in the cold dungeon air. She pushed me down onto all fours and summoned a thin, flexible cane from her room. The air cracked and my skin burned with white-hot flames, over and over and over again until I saw no more, heard no more, the world was darkness, the world was fire, it could just end here, that would be nice, if it was just nothing ever again, nothing ever again... My mind slowly drifted back into focus, and I realized she had ceased beating me. Every inch of my back, my ass, and all down my thighs and calves formed a solid mass of scorching agony. This must be what cremation feels like, I thought absently.
And then she was grabbing a heavy cast-iron poker from beside the fireplace. Her smile as she approached me was terrifying: unfocused and demented, like the snarl of a rabid creature. She held the length of metal above me for a long, agonizing moment, before bringing it swiftly down across my back. My spine felt like it was shattering as I collapsed onto my stomach. I crushed my balls as I fell, but the pain was incomparable to what she was inflicting on me. She beat me two more times with the heavy implement, once on my ass, and once across the backs of my knees. I felt sure she had fractured bones; a low, keening noise escaped my mouth as I struggled for breath.
And then I felt her lifting my hips into the air. Suddenly, cold metal was pressing against me. She slowly, inexorably, shoved the blunt end of the poker into my asshole, laughing maniacally the whole time. “Is this what you want, Snape? Is that why you can’t get the little girl to let you fuck her? Cause you want to be fucked in the ass like the submissive whore you are?!” she taunted me, looking at the Dark Lord for approval. He watched the scene serenely, as if he were simply catching a Sunday cricket game at the park. “You’re weak, Snape. You can’t even get it up at the revels! Do you know how much we laugh at you? Your name is an insult here, you pussy fucking cunt,” she hissed.
The end of the poker was now through my sphincter, and my muscles screamed and seized in agony at the invasion. She began ferociously thrusting it in and out of me; the cold metal catching and pulling on my exquisitely sensitive skin. She knelt down behind me and reached around my hips, fondling my flaccid penis with one hand as she violated me with the other. When my body refused to respond to her, she cackled triumphantly. “Can’t even get it up while being fucked in the ass, Snape? You really ARE pathetic!” She sodomized me for a few more minutes, spewing forth a stream of taunts and mock-seduction. Eventually, she grew tired of her game when I refused to make a sound or respond in any way. She yanked the heavy metal rod out of me and returned it nonchalantly to its stand beside the fireplace. She wandered out of the room without another word, leaving me bloodied and naked on the floor.
The Dark Lord waved me off silently, dispassionately observing my frightful state. Without a sound, I scrambled forward, kissed the hem of his robe, and crawled out of the room. Lucius was waiting on the other side of the door with a spare set of Death Eater robes. He helped me to my feet, slid the clothing carefully over my ruined back, and offered me a bottle of scotch. I sucked a third of the bottle down my throat at once and handed it back to him. He nodded significantly at me, and I returned it. He wrapped my arm around his shoulder and helped me hobble to the front door. I apparated away as he raised his hand in a half-hearted salute.
I entered the Hogwarts gate, pausing and looking despondently at the accursed hill I’d spend the next half-hour struggling up. Suddenly, I heard the snow crunch behind me and spun around with wand in hand. And there she was, concern etched into the lines of her face. She took my face in her hands, staring intently into my eyes. In the plentiful moonlight, she could see the blood that flowed freely from my nose; the grim, haunted look about my mouth; the tears that still leaked, unbidden, from the corners of my eyes. She pulled me down to her, placing a lingering kiss on my sweaty, blood-stained forehead. I couldn’t believe she would do such a thing, but was immensely comforted.
After a minute, I relented and allowed her to place my arm on her shoulder and take a good deal of my weight onto herself. As we gradually proceeded up the incline to the castle, she pointed her wand at me and murmured an endless stream of pain-blocking charms. Every tiny movement dragged the fabric of my robe against the open wounds on my back and legs. Blood dripped inexorably down my legs, leaving a trail of droplets in our wake. My only solace was that Bellatrix clearly hadn’t broken my spine with that damned poker as I had feared.
After what felt like hours, she was opening the bookcase entrance to my quarters. She tried to make me sit on the chaise, but I shook my head emphatically. I indicated that she should leave, but she resolutely ignored me. I started to yell at her to just fucking go, but the only sound that escaped my throat was a dry, choked noise that sounded ghoulishly similar to a death rattle. She rolled her eyes at my posturing, reaching for the front of my clothing. I turned my back to her abruptly and began to undo the closures on my robes with palsied hands. After an embarrassingly long time, I was finally able to lower the top of my robes, exposing my wounded back to her. She let out an involuntary cry, like a cross between a terrified scream and a woeful sob.
She ran to my first-aid cabinet, pulling the bottle of Dittany off the top shelf. She carefully dripped the essence onto each thin, lengthy wound, and I felt my skin knitting itself back together. Then she coated my entire back with a healing salve, placing a bandaging charm to keep it from wiping off on anything.
She reached for the robes I was still grasping, vice-like, around my waist. I shook my head vehemently, pointing at the door. She glared at me pugnaciously and grabbed me by the upper arm. She steered me into the center of the room then pushed me, none too gently, towards the bed. Lacking the energy to argue, I laid face-down on the comforter. I carefully tucked my bits underneath me and out of view before I pulled the robes off of myself.
Miraculously, she didn’t make a single sound when she took in the state of the rest of me. The wounds from the caning only wept slightly now, so it was very obvious where the dark stream of blood staining my thighs originated. She cast a cleansing charm and a clotting charm, finally stopping the flow. She proceeded to cast dozens of healing charms, obviously reciting every single one she’d ever heard of or read about. As an untrained healer, she didn’t know how to diagnose the extent of my internal injuries or how to properly treat them. So she contented herself with simply deluging my body with healing magic and hoping for the best. The sensation of her magic flowing through me was remarkably similar to the feeling of being inside her mind: supple but sturdy, serene but electrifying.
After about fifteen minutes of her surprisingly effective restoration, my insides had been left with nothing more than a dull ache and general tenderness. I indicated she could stop, so she returned to my wounds. They’d been mostly closed from the massive amounts of power flowing through my body, so she just touched up a few spots with Dittany, then covered the rest of my visible skin with healing salve and bandage charms. She returned from the cabinet with a small handful of pills. I swallowed them dry, unwilling to sit up enough for a sip of water.
She stood at my bedside, stroking my sweaty hair and face soothingly, for a long time. I tried to tell her to leave me, but I couldn’t bring myself to do so. Eventually, I took her hand and pulled her towards me imploringly. She gave me a tender smile and walked around to the other side of the bed, kicked off her shoes, and climbed up next to me. She laid on her back, and I dragged myself the last couple of inches to curl up next to her. I rested my head on her stomach, curling partway into a fetal position and hugging her hips. She continued to stroke my hair, massaging my scalp soothingly, until finally the drugs took their blessed hold and I drifted off.
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Madrigal