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Vivisection	By : LumosMinima Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Snape Views: 5978 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, or the characters from it. I make no money writing fanfiction. No infringement is intended.

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Once home, Harry sat on the couch and leaned back, studying Snape, who continued to stand perfectly still, his hands still clasped at the back of his head. He seemed to be just waiting for whatever came his way.

Trouble was, Harry didn’t know what that might be.

There was no sympathy, no guilt, no desire to soften Snape’s lot in any way. There was no rage, either, and Harry found himself almost regretting it -- if only he could just get past this state of benumbed fascination, lash out, push, then…. Then what? He didn’t even know that.

Snape was the first to breach the silence.

“We don’t get news there. They didn’t tell me you survived. I had no idea,” he said, giving Harry a quick glance. His tone was mild, but the gaze of the dark sunken eyes was shockingly intense.

“The disappointment must be overwhelming,” Harry said dryly.

“It isn’t. Will you tell me what happened?”

“What do you care?” Harry snapped.

“I don’t know,” Snape admitted. “I’d like to hear it, just the same.”

“The spell I used on Voldemort was custom-designed. Deadly for the caster as well as the target. I should have died. I’m not sure why I didn’t –I spent three years in a coma, while everyone else kept on fighting, chasing down and finishing off the rest of Voldemort’s supporters. I suppose I’m the last one left.”

“How odd,” Snape whispered. “To be the only one left standing precisely because your survival wasn’t in the plans.”

Harry winced. Snape’s voice, even and quiet, had the familiar note of steel in it. It reminded him of the way they used to talk some four years ago, discussing the Order’s plans and missions, Snape always by his side, never wavering and never mincing words. A different lifetime, Harry thought morosely and for a quick insane moment longed for those days. The insanity didn’t last long – it’s not like Harry could forget what Snape was, or rather, what he turned out to be.

“No odder than to betray everyone hoping to gain something and lose everything in the end,” Harry pointed out. “I’d ask how your new life’s working out for you, Snape, but I can see it’s as grand as could be expected.”

Snape had nothing to say to that. With a measure of satisfaction Harry noticed a faint touch of colour reach Snape’s high cheekbones, even more defined now due to his painful thinness. It was almost hypnotic – watching Snape, hearing him talk, seeing him try to act human, try to wade through this mockery of life, step after painful step... and knowing that he had nowhere to escape from all this, and nowhere to hide.

“Get rented out often?” Harry asked lazily.

Snape shook his head mutely.

“How often?” Harry pressed.

“The contracts for … personal use are rare,” There was only a momentary hesitation in Snape’s voice. “Other times, I get contracted out to the…”

“Yes, I know. St. Mungo’s Department for Countercurse Research,” Harry cut him off. He couldn’t credit how much rage welled up the moment he remembered that Snape was still doing something useful at times. That, some days, he still had the opportunity to be human. “How many of those have you had so far?”

“One hundred and twenty-something,” Snape said. “Twenty-eight, I think.”

“Qutie a few,” Harry observed. “How do you feel about that?”

Snape gave a small shrug. “Doesn’t matter, I suppose, at the end of the day. A contract is a contract.”

Harry smiled bitterly, angrily.

He supposed it was no great surprise that being forced to help remedy at least some of the harm he’d caused would be repugnant to Snape. Probably just as repugnant as any other kind of “contract”.

“Going to St. Mungo, or sucking someone’s cock, it really is all the same to you, isn’t it?” Harry checked.

Snape gave no answer to that.

“You know what that tells me, Snape?” Harry spat. “That it’s been too long since someone gave you a sound thrashing. Maybe someone should, so that next time you go to St. Mungo, you’ll be grateful.”

Snape lifted his head abruptly and stared at Harry again with the same intensity as before. For a moment, it looked like Snape was going to say something, but then thought better of it.

“Go shower,” Harry told him, pointing at the bathroom door. “And make it quick. In and out, you have five minutes.”

Snape acknowledged Harry’s words with a silent nod and walked toward the bathroom door.

All in all, Snape didn’t dawdle. Just out of idle curiosity, Harry did time him – it took Snape three and a half minutes to emerge from the bathroom and re-enter the living room, his hair wet, his skin still damp, and a towel wrapped around his waist.

“Drop the towel,” Harry said.

Snape did as told, allowing the towel to fall to the floor.

“Bend over the chair.”

Snape was still not saying anything. Silently, he took hold of one of the chairs and pulled it away from the table, moving it to the centre of the room. He positioned himself to bend over the high back of the chair, his palms resting against the seat. The position caused him to stand on his tiptoes, stretching his body painfully taut.

Somehow, Harry was still shocked that Snape was obeying him. Whatever the Centre did to him was clearly sufficient to instill compliance. Too bad it wasn’t enough to teach him to value the rare opportunity to be useful…

Harry pulled the belt out of the loops and folded in in his hands. Snape tensed even more as he heard the clank of the belt buckle.

Harry struck out angrily, quickly, first blow falling on Snape’s already bruised thighs. Snape flinched and let out a loud breath through his teeth, but otherwise, made no sound.

Harry saw no need to hold back. He struck out again and again, watching with a distant fascination new welts form on Snape backside, lower back, thighs, back of his legs. Snape flinched at every lash, but somehow managed to keep his position and remain silent, even as the small tremors ran down his legs, and his fingers scraped and clawed at the seat of the chair.

Harry delivered a final lash to the raw and deep-red mess of welts, abrasions and blisters that Snape’s backside had become. Snape did cry out then – a single, hoarse yelp. His legs buckled and he clutched at the back of the chair to steady himself.

Harry walked up to him quickly, gathered a fistful of his hair and yanked at it, getting him to stand up straight once more. His head forced back, Snape kept his eyes tightly shut. His lower lip was swollen – it looked like he’d chewed it raw in his struggle to stay quiet. His body was trembling, and it looked like he was ready to fall down any moment, dragging Harry along with him.

Seeing no reason to wait for that, Harry shoved him down abruptly, forcing him into a kneeling position. Snape’s bony knees made a satisfying crack against the floor.

Slowly, Harry traced Snape’s swollen lip with his index finger.

“Are you any good at sucking cock, Snape?” Harry asked. “No, you don’t need to answer. Just open your mouth, that will do.”

Giving Snape’s hair another rough yank, Harry guided him to kneel beside the couch.

Whoever had said that power corrupts knew what they were talking about, Harry thought bitterly. It was intoxicating, knowing he could push Snape as much as he wanted to, and watching him obey. No more restrictions, no more boundaries, no rules -- and no more need to be humane in any way, none of that rot. Humane ended ages ago, and Snape was the one to end it, as far as Harry was concerned.

For a long minute Harry smiled as he stared at Snape, who was frozen in an awkward position, his lips slightly parted.

Harry unzipped his trousers to pull out his cock.

“Go on, Snape. Get to it.”

Snape inched forward and a moment later, the black-haired head rested between Harry’s legs.

It took Harry by surprise. Not that Snape was good at it, but that he was gentle about it. He licked the underside of Harry’s cock, sucked at the head, stroking the slit with the tongue. All in all Snape gave the impression of pleasuring a lover, rather than trying to pacify someone.

Harry’s mind went blissfully blank. He really wasn’t thinking about anything anymore, just that it felt good to have someone’s lips around his erect cock, to feel the pressing of another’s body against his legs.

Absently, Harry ran a hand through Snape’s damp hair, sorting through it, noticing the few grey strands. His fingertips brushed against Snape’s earlobe.

Snape stilled for a moment, then leaned into his touch, rubbing his cheek against Harry’s palm. That was enough to bring Harry back to his senses.

Roughly, he pushed Snape off, disgusted with himself for touching Snape – like that.

Without saying a word, he stood up and reached for Snape’s shoulders, turning him around and pushing him down to stand on all fours, with his welted buttocks lifted in the air. He kicked Snape’s legs apart.

“Still like this better than the other assignments?” Harry asked.

Snape didn’t make a sound.

When Harry pushed into him, without lubrication, without any preliminaries, Snape let out a single pained grunt. The dry-fucking was painful not just for Snape, Harry realized quickly, but that didn’t matter anymore. He thrust a few more times, feeling Snape’s channel clench in protest at the dry penetration. He came quickly, abruptly, feeling relieved more than anything else.

When Harry withdrew, Snape made an attempt to sit up, but gave that up quickly in favor of simply lying on the floor face down.

Harry looked away. Slowly, he zipped his trousers back up, picked up his belt. The fascination and the intoxication were gone, giving way to nausea and disgust and something like buyer’s remorse. He didn’t want to look at Snape anymore, but he did anyway.

Snape remained on the floor just as he was, not moving, as if he were an inanimate object. The small trickle of come, running down his thigh, had a reddish tint to it.

Harry stepped over him silently and went to bed.

to be continued...

MelR, jules3677 –many thanks for reading and reviewing.
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Vivisection