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Corvus Fallere	By : Mouse Category: Harry Potter > General > General Views: 7248 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 3
- 4
Chapter 4
Someone was shaking my shoulder. I groggily flung my hand out, muttering, "'m 'wake. Quit it," but the shaking didn't stop. Eventually I managed to get an eye open, squinting.
"Harry, wake up! Honestly, why do you always have to be the last one up?" Hermione shook me again before noticing that my eye was open. "There you are. I was beginning to be worried."
"What time zizzit?" I said, rubbing my hands across my face. My skin felt cool and smooth on my sleep-wrinkled face, soothing the sore spots.
"I don't know. Maybe an hour after dawn? Listen, the Coraxis will be here soon; they're waking people up in groups. We're the only set left, now."
I sat up, squinting at the light coming in the window. I was lying in a stall of some sort, with rough wooden walls ending abruptly halfway to the ceiling. The bedding beneath me looked like straw but wasn't scratchy at all. Indeed, the softness of it invited me to lie back down and catch another bit of sleep, but Ron's "Here they come" focused my attention.
Ron was standing at the door, leaning with folded arms on the half door. The fact that he was as naked as a mynah bird brought to my attention that I was too. And so was Hermione. I blushed and managed not to look at her chest.
Ron backed up as the door opened, and a bright-eyed Coraxis poked its head in. It nodded, presumably in approval, as it noted that we were already awake. Motioning with one dark hand, it turned and shuffled-hopped out to the main body of the "stable.' Blinking, I followed my friends, trying not to yawn. The stable was larger than I had thought it was; a row of stalls ran along the long sidewalls, and the floor of the common area was of packed earth. Coraxis wandered here and there, some carrying cloths or bundles, others raking out the pens. I caught a glimpse of a human exiting the large door at the far end of the building, but he was gone before I could call out to him.
We were led to a bathing area, where I gratefully washed my face and brushed my teeth with the toiletries provided. I resolutely kept my eyes off of Hermione, who seemed as at ease with her nudity as Ron was. Was I the only one left with some modesty? I splashed warm water on face again, wondering at the slickness of my skin as I wiped at the water running down my chest. Must be left over soap from the pools, I thought.
The Coraxis briskly toweled us off, then handed each of us some kind of garment. As usual, Hermione figured it out first; it was a kind of loincloth, with two long rectangles of black silky material suspended on a belt. She quickly belted hers on, adjusting it so that her front and back were adequately covered. "Well, it's not proper dress, but I suppose it's better than nothing at all."
Ron's face twisted, and he turned to the Coraxis. "That's it?" He said incredulously, pointing a thumb at Hermione. "You want us to go walking about in just that kit? Bloody well freeze to death, we will!"
The Coraxis tipped its head at him, then cawed, as if Ron could understand him, twitching his hands back and forth. It paused; awaiting a response, then just shook its feathery head, and motioned us to follow it.
Ron and I quickly donned our "clothing' and followed Hermione over to a large rectangular hole in the wall. The Coraxis motioned for us to stay there, while it ducked into a low door to the right of the window. Peering through, we could see that there was some kind of kitchen, where a handful of Coraxis busied themselves cleaning up. "Our' Coraxis walked over to a pot on the stove and ladled out some porridge into a large bowl. After setting it on a tray, he poured a measure of milk on it, and reached into a huge canister for a handful of raisins. He looked over at us, head cocked.
"Maybe he's asking if we want raisins?" I said.
"Depends on whose bowl that is. I like "um." Ron said, and called "Hey, if that's mine, you can put them in."
The Coraxis twitched its free hand restlessly, then dumped in the handful of raisins. It grabbed a pitcher and filled it with water, set a cloth on the tray, and brought the whole thing to us, resting it on the ledge between the two rooms.
"Is this it? For all three of us?" Ron said incredibly, looking at the bowl. "There's hardly enough for one of us, let alone all three!"
"Ron, calm down," Hermione said. "I'm sure that this will be enough. Look at it this way; it's more food than we got back in the big room, even if we do have to share it."
"She's right, Ron. Plus it's hot. I don't care if I do have to share, I'm eating it."
Ron grumbled some more, but in the end he, too ate the porridge. It was surprisingly good, hot and filling, even if I did have to pick through the raisins. We laughed as we ate, because they didn't give us any silverware, and we ate with our fingers. Hermione said that was how people in some native cultures ate, and demonstrated how. We teased her for a while about being an expert on eating with her fingers, and she mock-scowled at us.
When the porridge was done, we wiped our hands as best we could. I felt myself harden slightly as I watched Hermione's pink tongue lap at her fingers, removing the last sticky bits of the porridge. I gulped and turned my head a little; I noticed that Ron did the same.
The Coraxis collected us as soon as we were done, and led us outside into bright sunlight. I winced, and squinted, trying to see where we were.
As I had thought, we were still on Hogwarts grounds, down near the stables where Hagrid kept all his creatures. I realized, belatedly, that we must have been sleeping in the stables themselves, though they had been thoroughly modified. Just the place for all the little animals.
The trek to the castle was made in silence. Hermione had her jaw clenched, and refused to look around, striding ahead behind the hopping bird thing, while Ron and I lagged behind noting the changes to the grounds. I shivered as I passed into the shadow of a long wall. I let my eyes wander up to the blasted goal posts, the tattered flags motionless in the morning air. Faint echoes of cheering and laughter still clung to this place, even after all this time. I looked away.
We didn't go all the way up to the main doors, thankfully. I don't think I could have handled that, seeing the grand doors of Hogwarts opened to the likes of the Death eaters. It was too much. The door we entered went directly to the dungeons, leading down half-remembered corridors and faintly damp hallways. The Coraxis seemed to know exactly where it was going. I saw Ron sneered at a door as we passed it, and I recognized belatedly that we had passed the entrance to Snape's potion classroom. Where were we going?
A large door at the end of the next hall held my answer. Emblazoned with the same bird-in-chains motif as the main door to House Coraxis, this one stood slightly ajar, weak light spilling out onto our feet. The Coraxis held the door for us, but did not enter itself. It shut the door after we entered.
"Ah. There you are. Dallied over breakfast, did we? How lovely. Now, get over here" Snape was sitting at a large desk, writing with a long white quill. He did not look up. He looked so much like the Snape we thought we had known, quill in hand, marking papers as we labored over some obscure potion. He even looked to be wearing plain wool robes today, instead of those leather ones. We stopped in front of his desk.
"Well? We're here. Now what?" I crossed my arms over my chest. Ron followed suit, taking advantage of the fact that he was taller than the seated man to glare down his nose at him.
"Oh, stop it, boy. I've had grander men than you glare at me, and I dare say that you will have a greater reason to glare at me in a few hours." Snape finished his document with a flourish of the long quill, then set it aside to dry and pulled out another long sheet. Just as he was about to touch the pen to the paper again, he suddenly lifted his head to pierce us with his stare.
I felt his hot gaze on my face, my chest. My chin lifted and my shoulders squared, determined not to tremble before him. His lip twitched for a moment, then he scratched out a quick word on the parchment. His black eyes focused on Ron and Hermione in turn, and after each he wrote a word on the parchment. He then ignored us for a moment, writing a few sentences on the page before standing in one smooth motion, bringing the parchment and quill with him.
We turned to watch him as he came around the desk to stand in front of us.
"Now. I have some questions that you will answer to the best of your ability, do you understand?" He was writing on the parchment as he said this, supporting it with one large hand.
"No. While we were sleeping in the stables, Jenny Greenteeth came along and sucked out our brains. Of course we understand, you pompous ass." I felt a spurt of adrenaline at talking back to him like this, as I always wanted to at school. Snape froze, as did Ron at my side. Hermione's eyes opened wide.
Snape's head turned impossibly slowly, his lips still, betraying no emotion. He slowly set the parchment and quill aside, and drew his wand from his robe. All deliberately, unbelievably slowly. I watched with detachment as the wand was centered on my chest, over the point of the collar he had dropped onto me last night. The end of the wand dug into my sternum, Snape's eyes dug into my face.
"I told you, boy, that I would brook no impertinence from you. But you always push. Always have to see how much you can get away with, don't you? Or perhaps—" and he leaned in, his face close to mine. I wanted to lean back, to shy away from this intimacy, but I did not. "Perhaps you crave the discipline. Tell me, boy, were you ever struck as a child?"
I tried for a smart answer, but my voice was stuck in my throat. I nodded faintly, finally moving my body away from his. He caught the back of my head in one hand, the fingers curling into my hair and holding me tight. I gasped faintly. His breath ghosted over my lips.
"Who hit you? What did you do?"
"I— My uncle — I... I don't remember-"
His fist in my hair tightened. It didn't hurt, exactly, but my scalp tingled. He spoke silkily in my ear. "Don't remember, or don't want to remember?"
"I— I don't remember. Something I did. Something I did with magic."
"And he hit you for this."
I nodded again, as well as I could with his hand so tight in my hair. The pressure tightened again, pain blooming slowly at the back of my head. He tilted my head, his eyes roaming over my face. I felt exposed.
"You didn't have a very care free childhood, did you boy? So many rules. So many restrictions. And then we drop you into a whole new world, full of freedom, and money, and friends. No wonder you were out of control; you weren't raised into that life," his face lowered, and I felt his lips touch my ear. I shivered, wanting to pull away, but I couldn't move. "You were raised... into this one." My eyes slid shut, another shiver working though me as his lips moved over my ear. His breath was loud so close to my skin. He whispered again, the words flowing right into my ear. "You understand consequences more than we gave you credit for, don't you, boy? You didn't think you could get away with all of your actions— and you didn't want to. All you had to do was ask, you know. I could have given you what you wanted—"
The wand twitched, and he murmured something sibilant into my ear. And all at once, I was on fire.
Sensation rolled through me, starting from the wand, pulsing and throbbing. It hurt! God, it hurt, pressing and lighting all my nerves. It wasn't the Cruciatus, not even close, but the pain was incredible. I arched into the wand.
When it was over I hung limp in Snape's arms, wrung out. My face was wet with tears and I sobbed lightly, body pumping with endorphins. I could hear Hermione's voice, yelling at Snape, demanding that he stop. I didn't hear Ron.
Snape half carried me over to a corner of the room, pushing me onto low stool that bent forward, resting my chest on the padded table in front of it. It was actually quite comfortable, and I tucked my legs under the stool to sit on the footrest. I signed, drying my face on the nubby cloth of the table.
I felt Snape's hand let go of my hair, finally, and my scalp ached. I shut my eyes, not wanting to deal with the light as Snape stepped away. I could hear his voice, instructing Ron and Hermione onto the stools as he began his questioning again.
"Now, I believe I can leave him to rest, if you would be so kind as to answer some questions for me? Yes. How very kind of you. This shouldn't take long."
Ron and Hermione dully answered questions for what seemed to be a long time. About birthdays, and birthplaces. Siblings, parents, relatives. He questioned Hermione about her appendix surgery, and grilled Ron just as long about the time he spent recovering from an infected gnome bite. He pulled information out slowly, coaxing them to answer by starting with innocuous, innocent questions. Then came the questions he had asked me.
"Were you struck as a child?"
A beat of silence, then Ron's voice, slightly huffy. "I don't think you need to know that."
"I need to know whatever I ask you, boy. Now, answer the question. Were you struck as a child?"
"Yes." Said, but said sullenly.
"Often?"
"Often enough. It's a house full of boys, what do you think?"
"Hmmm. And what, exactly, did you get hit with?"
"mum's spoon."
"What was that, boy?"
"Mum's spoon, alright? A long wooden spoon that she kept in the kitchen. Bloody personal question, innit?"
"Ron, don't-"
A rustling noise, and I heard Hermione gasp. I raised my head, even though it felt like it was filled with iron. Snape had Hermione's chin in his hand, two fingers in her mouth, holding her jaw open. His face was close to hers, and I could see her hands clench and tremble on the edges of the bench.
"What did you say, girl? What was that? I thought I heard you refer to this boy here with a name. He has no name, do you understand me?" He shook her head brutally with his hand, and I heard her muffled cry. "Do you understand me?"
She nodded shakily, and he gave her head a last shake before sliding his fingers from her mouth and dragging the wet digits across her face. "Now. I would wager that your parents did not believe in corporal punishment, did they, girl?"
Hermione shook her head, choking back tears as her fingers wiped at her face.
"As I thought. Now, Just a few more questions, and we can get on with our day. And I see that our friend has joined us in the land of wakefulness once again. Good." He consulted the parchment again, and said, "Which of you are virgin?"
I was expecting this, but I still went cold when he said it. I saw Hermione raise her hand slowly, a blush slightly staining her cheeks. I, too raised my hand, Snape's punishment still too fresh in my mind to think about disobeying. Ron kept his hands on the bench in front of him, smirking faintly. Snape snorted at him.
"Oh, how delightful. Some bint let you have your adolescent way with her, and you're all proud of it. Very tasteful, boy. I'm sure that she had a night full of fantasy and romance. That is, if the oh-so-glamorous Astronomy tower was free for the night. Put your hands down, both of you. Now, then. I'm assuming that none of you have been active in the more passive role of homosexual encounters either, correct?"
That I wasn't expecting, although I probably should have been. We all shook our heads, and Ron looked faintly ill.
"I see. Well, that's going to make this more... interesting. Hmmmm." Snape paced back and forth in front of us, hands clasped together across his back. "Well, no help for it. We'll begin your training now, then."
At this, Ron tried to stand up, but a word from Snape and our legs wouldn't move from the stools, and my hands stuck fast to the bench. Snape turned and looked at us, then waved his hand languidly. "Oh, and no more talking. I don't want to deal with your incessant chatter throughout this session."
Ron was jerking wildly, mouth forming soundless curses. Hermione was stock still, face pale and drawn. I couldn't seem to move either, and I wondered if I would be punished if I got sick.
A wave of Snape's wand and the benches slid forward, propelling us out from the wall into the middle of his office, then moved so that the three of us faced each other. Snape circled around behind us, the wind from his passage stirring the back flap of my loincloth. I realized exactly how vulnerable I wn thn this position.
A wisp of smoke floated through the room, scenting it lightly. I shook my head, slightly disorientated from the movement of the bench. Snape stepped to the side so that we all could see him. He waited until Ron had stopped struggling before speaking.
"This will not be the most difficult part of your training, but I understand that it is something that you are unfamiliar with, so for the time being you will not be punished for resisting. But your bodies are mine, to do with as I wish, and I refuse to damage them because you believe you are too modest to subject to preparation. Today is merely a day to get used to the idea of taking a cock up your arse, and some basics." This was said as if he was telling us to chop slugs for brewing, not laying out debasing actions. I turned my head and looked into Hermione's embarrassed eyes. She blushed and dropped her head. Snape noticed, and tipped her head up with one finger under her chin.
"I warned you, girl, that you were not suited to this, but you elected to come anyway. Remember that, the first time I take you. Of the three of you, you alone had a choice in this." Snape said, letting her head drop. He stepped back and looked at us for a moment, then twisted his head to look at Ron.
"I think you're going to have the worst time with this, boy. Would you like to get it over with?"
Ron shook his head frantically, his red hair splaying out into a frame for wide eyes, but Snape advanced on him anyway. He touched Ron's head for a moment, and frowned when he felt the tremors that I could see from where I sat.
"Relax, boy. You're going to work yourself into a fine state if you don't relax."
Ron jerked his head away from Snape's hand and glared at him. Snape just gazed down at him, then his hand snapped out and caught Ron's head, slamming it down into the bench, where it remained, though I could see Ron straining to pull it up.
I tensed, thinking that Ron was hurt, but other than a great shuddering sigh that could have been a scream, Ron relented.
"Better. Now, deceive yourself into thinking this is a medical examination if you wish, but it would behoove you to accept your position and get used to it." He crouched next to Ron's head, stroking his fingers through the fringe of red hair that fell over Ron's eyes. "This won't be so awful, you know. Nothing drastic today. I'll warn you before I do anything. First, though—" Snape stood again, moving around behind Ron. He waved his wand over Ron's lower back, muttering a charm, and I saw Ron jerk hard, snorting air through his nose.
"Just a cleansing charm, boy. Get used to it." Snape's hand slipped his wand back into his robe, then came to rest on Ron's back. Ron tensed. "Shhhhh. I'm just touching you. Relax." His hands moved in large circles over Ron's back, pressing and rubbing at the muscles.
I blinked at this surreal scene. We were in Snape's office, mostly naked and at his mercy, and he was rubbing Ron's back. Almost as if he was making this easier for him... I shook my head, trying to get rid of another flash of that unwarranted gratitude.
Snape leaned forward, massaging Ron's back in earnest now, pale fingers working at the freckled skin, and Ron's body seemed to relax into the bench more completely. Snape's right hand slipped into his robe and returned with a length of black silk, which he draped over Ron's head and shoulders. The contrast between his skin and the silk was startling, and for a moment I forgot who he was and just saw a body, pale and bent and anonymous.
Snape listened to Ron's harsh breathing, and ran a soothing hand down his back. "Shhh, boy, just relax. No one can see you now, and you can't see anyone. Just concentrate on my voice, and what you feel. No pain. Just sensation. Relax." Snape flicked his wand at the wireless on the shelf behind his desk, and low music filled the room, a slow, heavy bass carrying the lighter tones of some foreign music. I could feel the drumbeats in my stomach.
Snape gathered a few things from a cabinet, and returned to Ron, who hadn't moved at all. The scent rising from the oil Snape poured on his hands was tantalizingly familiar, but I couldn't place it. I felt myself harden inexplicably at the smell. Snape's hands once more moved over Ron's back, smoothing in the oil as he worked at the knobs of Ron's spine. I saw some of the tension remaining in Ron's body release. Snape began thumping Ron's back lightly in time with the music with bunched fingers, moving his hands up and then down Ron's back. His hands mesmerized me.
By the time the hands moved low enough to touch Ron's loincloth, I was hard as a rock, and hoping fervently that no one noticed. I couldn't even figure out why I was hard, but the arousal was hot in me, making me press my thighs together, trying to relive some of the pressure on my cock.
Snape's hands slid around Ron's hips, pulling them backwards so that his arse hung over the edge of the stool. His bony hands slid under the loincloth, front and back, and I saw Ron give a great shiver. I almost moaned. This was sick, and violating, and wrong... but my cock was thumping with the music, and my eyes were glued to Snape's wrists, disappearing under the silk of Ron's loincloth, and the little jerky movements of Ron's hips. Snape was whispering to him, leaning forward and speaking into his ear, through the cloth. I saw Ron nod.
Ron suddenly jerked forward, his head moving under the cloth, and he rocked, hips undulating back into Snape's hand. Snape's hands moved faster, his robe swishing faintly over the music as he worked. And as Ron spasmed, Snape raised his head and looked into my eyes.
I stopped breathing for a moment, caught by those dark orbs. My cock jerked and for a second I thought I would come right there, just from the look in those eyes. I turned my head, looking away, trying to get ahold of myself.
Snape wiped his hands on a towel, and then stood for a moment petting Ron's covered head. "Shhhh, now, it's all over. You're all right. Rest now."
I gulped as he turned toward me, but he stepped around me to stand in front of Hermione. Her face was flushed, and she wasn't looking up at all. "Are you nervous, girl? Is your stomach in a knot?" His hand slipped down her cheek, cupping under her chin and raising her head. She looked up at him, lip caught between her teeth. His thumb teased her lip out from under her teeth, smoothing over it with the pad of this thumb. Her breath hitched. "Are you aroused? Did that make you hot, watching me make him come? Did you feel my hands on you while I touched him?" He smiled darkly, his thumb brushing over her lips again, and her little tongue came out and licked off the moisture.
I shifted and my bench groaned a little. Hermione's eyes shot to me, and a crimson blush bloomed in her cheeks. She jerked her head away from Snape's hand clenching her jaw. Snape's eyes narrowed.
"Oh oh, so modest. None of that now. You both watched me with that boy. Don't be shy now."
Hermione scowled at him, and tried to move farther away from his hands. Snape sighed, pulling out another length of black silk. This one he bunched into a long strip and tied firmly over Hermione's eyes, crossing it once and then draping the ends down her chest. The silk brushed across her breasts, and I saw her shiver. Snape picked up one of her hands and quickly bound it to the back of her neck with the cloth, then repeated the process with the other wrist. Her mouth worked for a moment, then her tongue came out again to wet her lips.
Snape moved behind her, pulling up a low stool. I watched as he cast the same cleansing spell on her that he did on Ron. Even seated he was taller than she was, and his eyes again locked on mine as he leaned forward, enveloping her in his arms. She jerked, trying to move out of the circle of his arms, but he held her fast. His hands splayed out on her belly, then moved upward, carefully avoiding her breasts to slide up her arms to the bent elbows, pressing them back and open, baring her chest to my gaze. When he let go of her elbows, she immediately tried to put them back down, but he forcefully pulled them open again.
"Leave them there, girl. Don't cover yourself." He finally looked away from me to slide his lips down the column of Hermione's neck, nibbling at the juncture between neck and shoulder. Hermione shivered, and my eyes trained on the quivering flesh of her breasts. I squirmed in my seat, knowing that I shouldn't be looking at her like this, but not able to help it. She looked so debauched, trussed up and blindfolded, arching unwillingly into Severus Snape's hands as he ran them down her chest, circling them around her breasts again without touching them.
I whimpered soundlessly as he cupped them, his long pale fingers caging the white skin of her breasts. I knew that I should look away, but this was too good, too hot. Guilt burned in me almost as much as arousal as I watched Snape play her, his hands alternatively light and fast, then suddenly hard and brutal on her breasts. He dribbled oil onto her breasts, letting the drops slide down her skin before gathering them up with careful fingers and painting circles around her nipples with them. Her lips pursed and she jumped as he touched her nipples, and then she fell backwards against him as he rolled and pinched them.
That tantalizing smell floated through the air again, as he pushed the bench in front of her away, turning both of them towards me to give me a better show. His booted feet curled around her calves, pulling her legs wide. One of his skeleton hands walked down her belly to cup her through the silky material of her loincloth. His other never stopped tormenting her breasts. I shut my eyes, shaking hard, trying to think of Hermione as she should be; studious, pouring over books, or scolding Ron and I, but I could not banish the image as she was, spread out and wanton in Snape's arms, arching against him.
I suddenly heard her cry out, and my eyes snapped open to see her, back arched as Snape's hand worked between her legs. I moaned lowly, and the sound of it, combined with the little panting cries she was giving made a bit of wetness leak from me. Snape looked at me, his eyes dark. He bent to whisper something into Hermione's ear, and she nodded frantically, arching her hips into his hand. As she arched, Snape slid forward and pulled her back, seating her on his thighs. He hoisted her legs up and over his thighs so that she was splayed open, body trembling under Snape's determined hands.
I panted, squirming in my seat just as Hermione was squirming in his lap. His hand worked slowly under her loincloth, the silken material catching the light as he shifted. She cried out again, loudly, her hips thudding back onto his lap. Snape dribbled more oil on his fingers, and slipped them again under the cloth. Hermione tensed, her body arching away from his hand, and Snape murmured into her ear, his free hand stroking her face, her chest. A moment later she panted a bit, and arched into his hand, short, sharp cries falling from her lips as she did so.
Snape bent his head, nibbling again at her neck, and she seemed to relax again, her hips finding the rhythm she had lost before. My cock was so hard the silky material of my loincloth was driving me insane, and I grunted in time to her cries. Shame burned away in the face of this arousal.
Snape suddenly gripped her hair hard, pulling her head back as his hand sped up. She yelped, then moaned, a long drawn out sound that ended on a squeal, as Snape bit down on her neck. She arched, feet and toes curled tight, then jerked in his arms, sobbing.
I panted, hands clenched. If I thought I was aroused before, when Snape worked Ron, I was wrong. My eyes shut tight. I was so close to coming that my body was tensed, ready. All I needed was one little touch, but my cock bobbed in the air, untouched other than the maddening slide of my loincloth. I bounced my hips, hoping that I could nudge the underside of the bench, but my hips wouldn't move from the seat.
A sudden noise made me open my eyes. Snape stood in front of me, arms crossed, smirking down at my discomfort.
"Is there a problem, boy? You look... Uncomfortable."
"I don't know what you did to them, but I'll be damned if you do it to me!" I growled, trying to get my breath.
His hand reached for my face, and I jerked back irritably. "Sod off, you bastard. Don't touch me."
He tut-tutted, withdrawing his hand and moving behind me. I craned my neck, trying to see him. That smell washed over me a moment before I felt the warm oil slide down my shoulder, separating into two rivers, one down my chest and the other sliding down the skin of my back. My pulse, which had begun to slow, raced again as I got a full lungful of the scent of the stuff. I grunted.
I felt them, then, those bony hands, sliding down my shoulders to grip my upper arms. Dizziness washed over me, and I shook my head. "Stop it, Snape. Let go of me."
He chuckled, his breath moving in my hair. "I hardly think you are in a position to give orders, boy. You're going to stop complaining, and just sit there and take it. It's not like you have a choice."
I slammed my head back, feeling with vicious satisfaction the crunch as the back of my head made contact with his nose. The pain in my head was blinding, but his nose must have felt worse, for he pushed me away with a yelp and string of curses.
"Blasted boy! Little, foolish wretch! What will that get you, do you think?" He came around in front of me, blood streaming through his fingers cupped over his nose. His gaze shot daggers through me. His wand was out, and he rapped me across the face with it, bringing tears to my eyes. "And so you ask for punishment again. So be it."
He turned and cast consopio on both Ron and Hermione, who wilted visibly into slumber. Then, hand still stemming the blood flowing from his nose, he returned to me, taking my arms off the bench in front of me with one hand and crossing them behind my back, holding them tight against my spine. I couldn't seem to move them of my own volition, though I could feel my shoulders tensing sluggishly in response to my efforts. His other hand, wet with blood, grabbed the back of my neck, and between the two, he stood me up with relatively little trouble. My legs held me, but barely. I apparently had just enough control returned to me to keep me from collapsing into a boneless heap.
He leaned in, hair brushing across my shoulders, and I felt the hot patter of blood down my chest as he spoke. "My intention was never to have to resort to this, boy, but you are much more recalcitrant than your cohorts. I should have known, of course, but I suppose," and he twisted my arms further up my back, causing me to wince, "that I was mistaken. No matter. While I had hoped to not need the vindicta or its chambers, I am not so naive as to leave them unprepared."
With that slightly terrifying proclamation, he marched me to a door in the back of his chamber, which opened for us to pass through. The hallway we passed into was dark, and as soon as the door clanged shut behind us, it was darker. Magic tingled around my neck, in the collar. I forced down a bit of panic at the completeness of the darkness, but Snape didn't seem to have any problems with it, marching me quickly, then turning me to the right or left in the dark, as if to pick branching hallways or steer me around obstacles. The echoes of our footsteps, his booted and mine a soft shuffling, changed as we went from room, to hallway, to room. It heightened my fear, and I began to shorten my steps in the fear that he would misjudge the distance on whatever he was steering me around I would bark my toes. I heard him chuckle softly and grip the back of my neck tighter with his bloody, sticky hand. I found perverse comfort in its weight there.
He suddenly stopped and spun mearound, my legs flailing as I lost my balance. I yelped as he let go of me as I fell, only to yelp again as he caught me mid turn and shoved me over a padded bench, about waist high. My heart, already thudding, clenched and beat harder. This was not good.
About that time I realized that he had never recast the charm that restricted my voice, and I began to plead with him. I know, not the most heroic of statements, but it was dark, and I was naked and bent over a bench with a man whose nose I had just broken. I hoped that history would forgive me for this little bit of cowardice.
"Snape, now, calm down. I'm sorry about the nose, really, I didn't mean it. This is all just strange an-" My voice died mid word, the silencing spell taking hold once more, as he bound me to the bench with what felt like leather restraints, one around each wrist and two more around my thighs, binding them to the padded leather legs of the bench. I could hear Snape's footsteps, retreating, echoing in what I was coming to realize was a much larger room than his office. Locks clicked, doors opened and shut. Bottles clinked, and I thought I heard him sigh softly. I strained my eyes in the dark, trying to make out anything. I couldn't. I couldn't even see the bench in front of my nose, and I was less than an inch from that.
More footsteps, coming closer. I felt the brush of his robe against my bare feet, and shivered. I felt a brief brush of magic centered in the black strip around my neck, and the quality of darkness changed.
"Lumos," he said, and his wand flared to light inches from my face. I winced, snapping my eyes shut and dropping my head. That hurt, bastard! I said in my head, because I couldn't say it out loud. My eyes ached, and I scrunched them repeatedly, trying to get the pain to lessen. His hand fisted in my hair, dragging my head up, and I blinked into his face, blood stained and calm. He dragged my glasses from my face, folding them and setting them under the bench. I blinked at the blurred world, even more naked now.
"You got what you wanted, I suppose, boy. I'm angry. Bigger men than you have tried to make me lose my temper, and have not succeeded." He touched a finger to my forehead, leaving a sticky red print. "But your family seems to have a gift. You, your father and your cursed godfather have all possessed this gift, and, like your godfather, you are about to see why making me angry is a Very Bad Idea." He pushed my head down onto the bench as he stood, as if my skull was a convenient handhold.
He stepped away, and, although I tried to turn my head to follow his progress, my head wouldn't turn. Damn spell!
All I could see now was a sliver of light on each side of my nose, and the light was dim with his wand light bobbing along, casting shadows across the ground. The light brightened, taking on the warm glow and flicker I associated with firelight, and in a moment I could hear it, small crackles of torches lighting up.
Long, horrible moments of silence, broken only by the crackle of a stray spark, rang in my ears. My toes curled and uncurled, my wrists chaffing in the restraints with my movements. I still couldn't turn my head.
I tensed, feeling trapped, which of course I was, but more than that, I was terrified of what was coming. Who knew what Snape had planed for me here? Nothing good, I knew that much. The swish of his robe told me where he was, and I strained my body away from him as he came up to my side, the muscles in my neck knotting in vain trying to move my head. I felt his fingers, tips roughed with endless chopping, grinding, dissecting, smooth down my back. I jerked.
"Shh, boy. No help for it now," he said, surprisingly gently. I tensed more, feeling his fingers lift my loincloth and lay it across my lower back. Magic tingled through my neck again, and the silky edge of the cloth hardened, molding itself to my skin. Snape knocked his knuckles against it, humming satisfactorily under his breath. "That is there to protect your kidneys and any other vital organs from being... disturbed."
It was more than my kidneys being disturbed at the moment. I heard him mutter a charm, and suddenly my intestines were full of bubbles, fizzing madly. I snorted, just as Ron had; this was the cleansing charm. I did feel rather... empty when the fizzing stopped, but the sense that I had just been violated was strong. I clenched my teeth, hands fisting as I imagined his face, bloody and broken. The image gave me little solace. The air washed over me as he stepped away.
"Now, as this was a major infraction, you normally would receive fifty, but, as you are not used to this sort of... discipline, I have decided to be merciful." He paused, as if waiting for thanks. What could I give him, silenced and restrained as I was? I barely quashed the impulse to flip him off.
After a moment or two of silence, I heard a whistling sound. I gasped into the bench; I knew that sound. Surely he wasn't going to cane me? Naked as I was, I would bleed if he did. The whistling came again, and I tensed, my muscles locking. A soft touch to my back, meant to reassure me, I'm sure, did nothing of the sort, and I flinched away from his hand.
"Shhh, boy," he said again, "just let it happen. Yes, it's going to hurt, and you're going to bleed, but it won't be for terribly long, and you'll live. You've had worse. Relax." His voice poured over me, dark and smooth, and fear roiled through my stomach. My breath hitched. He flattened his hand on my back, and I felt something cold touch my buttocks. He lobbed the cane across my ass, letting me feel the ridges as they scratched over me. Must be bamboo, I thought somewhat fuzzily, fear clouding my thoughts. Maybe if I passed out before it began he would spare me...
He took the hand on my back away, and I braced myself. I heard that whistling again, once, twice, and felt a whisper of breeze. My breath stopped again. My legs were trembling from the strain, my ass clenching and unclenching.
"Ready, boy?" Snape asked, and I couldn't decide if the question was rhetorical or not. I couldn't answer it, in any case.
A longer, protracted whistle, and I screamed silently as pain exploded across my rear. Another whistle, and another sharp sound as I was struck again. I writhed, tears springing to my eyes. On the third strike I managed to restrain myself from screaming, and it was on the pause between strikes that I realized that my ass, while burning furiously, did not feel as if it was bleeding. In fact, the pain was diffused, spread across a much wider area.
The fourth and fifth strokes confirmed my burgeoning suspicion, and I nearly sobbed with relief when I figured out that he was using his hand, not the cane, to punish me. The whistling noise was just to scare me. And it had worked; I had thought he was caning me for a few moments. Fear still pumped through my body.
The strokes continued, in groups of three, with a slight pause between them. My neck tingled. The relief I felt that I wasn't being caned faded as the number of licks I took increased; this hurt, and my ass felt swollen. Every strike burned, pushed into the skin and up my spine to burst in my brain. I shut my eyes after a few moments, trying to breathe, and praying that it would be over soon.
The more I breathed, the more relaxed I found myself getting. The tension left my shoulders, and my feet thumped back onto the bench as I unclenched my thighs and calves. The blows continued, but I felt his robes as he stepped closer, and his hand settled again on my back. The whistling noises stopped.
The pain that blossomed on every strike stopped being a separate sensation, blending together into waves, and I breathed into them. I felt odd, disconnected. My stomach wriggled, almost as if I was being tickled instead of beaten. I sighed.
The blows paused again, a bit longer this time, and I felt his hand slide over my ass. I moaned under my breath, washed in pain and sensation. Another volley of blows, these concentrated as he split between my cheeks. I moaned again, writhing against the bench. And that's when I realized that I was hard.
The thought should have shocked me, should have sickened me, but I was too far-gone to care. I began thrusting against the bench, pushing my hips up to meet his blows and down to the bench. It took me almost a moment to realize that he had stopped.
I whimpered, blindly seeking sensation, and the hand on my back rubbed in soft circles. I arched, wanting more.
"What a surprise you are, little one. This was not what I was expecting today," he murmured. I licked my lips against the bench, tasting the leather, and salt, from tears or sweat I did not know.
A light touch on my ass, and I sucked in a breath. Warm slickness, rubbed across my burning skin, soothing and deepening the burn. I gasped, and the sound rang out in the room. The slickness dipped between my cheeks, rubbing lightly at my arsehole.
The sense of violation was back, but it an odd, perverted sort of way. Anticipation spiraled through me, and I pushed back toward his touch as much as I could. Another surprised chuckle.
"So you did deserve your Auraria Sphaerae, boy. I had my doubts..."
I trembled at his voice, the words themselves meaning little to me. His finger circled again, pressing a bit harder. The burn shot through the continuing warmth from the spanking, and I moaned.
His hand on my back slid down to touch my balls, and I tried to spread my thighs. The straps prevented me from doing more than shifting my hips a bit more.
A clinking sound, and both leg restraints fell free. I spread my legs greedily, still awash with sensation. His breath flowed over my ear as he leaned close. His hand squeezed my balls.
"Now, before I let you come, boy, you have to give me permission to penetrate you. You want to come, don't you?"
I nodded as well as I could.
"Good... feels good, doesn't it? Won't it feel nice to let go..." the hand touching my balls slid up to my cock, pumping it with the slick liquid. I groaned again. His finger pushed more at my ass, and I spread my legs.
"Do I have your permission, then? May I penetrate you?" His fingers squeezed at the head of my cock.
I wailed my assent, and his hand sped up, stroking my cock in earnest. The burn from my beaten ass and the pleasure from my cock mixed, both becoming sharper, and I writhed, snapping my hips.
My calves trembled again, my toes curling. His thumb traced my balls, tight and high against my body. I was almost there...
His fingernails scratched down my sore flesh, and I yelped, jerking my hips away from him and then pushing back. His hand moved faster, encouraging my hips to move. I thrust against his hand, the pressure of his finger at my ass increasing. I wanted it all, couldn't stand it any more. I panted as I pushed back onto his finger, feeling the muscles hold for a moment and then collapse, his bony finger sliding into me. I squealed, freezing, as my ass spasmed around his finger.
His hand on my cock slowed, stroking me slowly, and he murmured something against my skin. I breathed shallowly, panting, trying to recapture the feeling of being right on the cusp of orgasm.
His hand left my cock, and I felt more oil dribbling down onto my stretched ass. His finger moved, slowly, working the oil into me, the odd burn of penetration flowing down my legs to pool in my feet. I moaned.
A slick hand returned to my cock, and moved in unison with the finger in my ass. Pleasure, which had been subsumed in the initial rush of pain from my ass, rose again to swamp me. I began to pump my hips, wanting him to go faster. Back and fourth, caught between his hands, my mind shut down to the point that I didn't even care that it was Snape touching me like this. Or maybe I did care; maybe that's why his voice, murmuring encouragement against my shoulder, was driving me insane.
"That's it. Yes. Take what you want. I can feel you, here, inside," he raked his finger across my prostate, and I whined, throat tight. I was so close...
His hands moved faster, the pleasure building inside of me spiraling out of control. I grunted, pumping my hips into his hand, teetering on the edge.
His finger in my ass suddenly pulled out, and I arched, whimpering, only to scream as it returned with its mate to slam into me. His teeth clamped onto my shoulder as his fingers roughly pumped me, and the pain, combined with the pleasure of his hand on my cock, sent me over. I howled, coming hard, hips jerking wildly as I emptied into his hand. His teeth bit down harder on my shoulder, and I felt them break the skin, making me howl again, as I spasmed again, my back arching. His fingers stroked my prostate, forcing the last of my come out of me.
I lay, panting, his fingers still inside me, his hand motionless on my cock. Slowly he removed himself from me, his fingers sliding and his hand releasing my cock. He pulled his head back, and I could feel the blood well and drip from the bite.
"See, little one," he said, his tongue licking at the bite, "I told you you would bleed."
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