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Old Habits Die Hard	By : NihilEtNemo Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Snape Views: 12792 -:- 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
- 5
Title: Old Habits Die Hard

Author: setosgirl

Words: 4,334

Warnings: Slash, MPREG – this chap,
Torture, gang-rape

Disclaimer: I do not now, nor have I ever, nor
shall I ever, own Harry Potter or any characters therein. I only own the plot.

Parings: Voldemort / Snape, Harry / Snape

Summary: Snape’s secret mission for
the Order is revealed – Voldemort’s personal – hem hem – ‘slave’! Then the Dark Lord
makes a revelation that stuns him… and he blames Harry for everything.

Notes: Harry is seventeen, at the
beginning of his last year at the start of the story. By the end, it’ll
be the end of his last year.

Old Habits Die Hard

Chapter 4

setosgirl

Snape felt the mark on his arm burn
as he patrolled the halls. Did he dare go? He would explain it to Dumbledore
later, he decided. He couldn’t afford not to go, not after making excuses
to skip his last two weekends with Him.

He quickly slipped from the castle
and made his way outside the grounds, and Disapparated, reappearing a moment
later in a small clearing in some forest somewhere, in the presence of he who
had summoned him – but a quick glance showed him that, though the other
Death Eaters were present, Voldemort was nowhere to be seen…

He was suddenly
pulled back as his arms were bound behind his back with ropes from
someone’s wand, and tightly bound to his sides. He realized immediately
that he was found out. Somehow, the others had realized what he was doing, and
he was now to be punished…

“Severus…”
a cold, superior voice said from somewhere to his right, and Lucius Malfoy
strode toward him from the darkness. “How kind of you to grace us with
your presence. We were afraid maybe you would forsake the pleasure of our
company for that of your Muggle-loving master…”

Snape said
nothing. It would do no good to deny it. If they were taking such drastic
action, they had proof. He should be
here to punish him at any moment…

“No
answer? Very well. You know why you’re
here…” Lucius walked a little closer, then
raised his wand. “And you know what we do to traitors… Crucio!”

His veins were
suddenly on fire… His bones were melting as he stood there, and lines of
liquid fire were racing along every nerve… the Death Eaters around him no
longer existed… he himself didn’t exist… there was nothing at
all in the universe except pain… But he wouldn’t scream. Muscles
tense and quivering, head thrown helplessly back, knees wanting to buckle but
held upright by two huge thugs, he clenched his teeth and refused to scream.
But still, obscuring his every thought and resolution, was the pain… the
icy fire that was eating him alive…

The pain slowly
faded, and he looked up at Lucius, breathing heavily. “Fool,” he
said quietly. “I have endured the curse from the Dark Lord himself…
Until that, you do not know pain… and after it, you will never scream
again.”

The blond
sneered. Snape for the first time realized that no one was wearing their hoods.
“Is that so? Well, I think we’ll make you scream before we’re
done, you greasy slut. Yes-” he said, watching Snape narrow his eyes,
“we all know what you are to Him.
And I heard Potter and Black talking about you in school,
even if I was nice enough to keep it quiet…”

Snape’s
face hardened, all emotion draining from his eyes. Lucius smirked as he saw it.
“You thought that was a secret, didn’t you? Sorry to burst your
bubble like this, but hardly…”

Snape
didn’t know whether to believe him or not. Obviously, he knew, but he
didn’t think anyone else in the school ever had, then or since. Lucius
Malfoy was a liar… but unfortunately, a liar who had some skills at
Occlumancy, so he didn’t know if he was lying now. Had everyone known?
No, he couldn’t believe that. It had been kept secret.

“What do
you think, everyone? How shall we punish him, before
turning him over to our Lord…?” Malfoy circled him, walking slowly
around him as the other two kept their hold on him, inspecting him, deciding
how best to hurt him… “He claims we can’t hurt him with the
Cruciatus…”

“I say we
see just how true that is,” said one of the others Death Eaters –
McNair. “He’ll break eventually…”

“That’s
true…” Lucius said slowly. Snape refused to so
much as look at him, staring stonily straight ahead. He had expected Him, not to be punished by these cretins
before they ever handed him over. Not that he didn’t
think he’d be able to handle it. In fact, he was somewhat relieved
to have this happen, to put off his real punishment as long as possible. He
wasn’t as certain he’d be able to handle what He was going to do to him… When he finally allowed him to
die, it would probably be a relief.

He should have
informed Dumbledore that he was going before he left… He hadn’t
even thought of it, and now he was caught, with no possible hope of escape or
rescue… all in all, he thought he was handling it fairly well. He only
hoped he wouldn’t tell Him
anything, though he knew he couldn’t guarantee it. Before the end, he
might very well spill everything he knew, which would spell doom for more than
just himself.

“Crucio!” he heard, then felt the same liquid fire consume him. There was
laughter; he vaguely heard Lucius’s cold voice
tell Crabbe and Goyle to
let him go; he felt himself hit the ground as his knees buckled, but only from
a distance. Then another voice yelled the curse as well; the pain redoubled,
and it didn’t end. More voices cursed him; the pain climbed ever higher.
He was sure he was dying. Every nerve in his body was being stretched to its
limit and plucked like a string. There was no way he could survive this
pain…

“Impressive,”
he heard Lucius Malfoy say from somewhere out side of his universe.
“He’s still not screaming…”

He wasn’t?
He hadn’t realized. It wasn’t by choice – if he’d had
any control over himself, he probably would have. Every muscle was frozen,
though, and his mouth refused to open, his voice refusing to work. Even as the
pain began to fade as no one else cursed him, it was still well nigh
unbearable, and only fading very slowly…

When he finally
came back to himself, he was lying on the ground, breathing heavily. His jaw
ached from clenching his teeth, and his throat was raw from drawing his breath
so harshly. But he hadn't screamed… now that he was conscious of himself
again, he was glad of that fact. He didn’t know how many of them had
cursed him, but it had probably been about one Death Eater away from killing
him outright.

“You are a
resilient one, aren’t you?” Lucius was suddenly crouching beside
him, and put his hand in his hair and pulled his head up. “Well, if that
truly won’t affect you, there are other ways…” Snape closed
his eyes briefly, still trying to breathe properly; he really was not fond of
that smirk… it promised nothing fun.

“I say we
find out what our lord sees in him…” he said in a louder voice to
the others. Snape’s eyes flew open. No… he didn’t mean what
he thought he meant…

“I
agree,” Nott said. “He must have something going for him, after
all… He certainly wasn’t chosen on his looks…”

“Don’t,”
Snape said through clenched teeth (partially intentional, partially because
they wouldn’t unclench yet after the last round of curses), trying to
push himself into a sitting position.

“Oh, look,
he can still move,” Lucius said rather blandly, then dropped his head
back to the ground, and he just lay there gasping for breath, having given up on
trying to sit. Lucius took the opportunity to make a
rather off-put face and made a show of wiping his hand on Snape’s robes.
“Wash your hair once in a while. It’s disgusting.” Snape
hardly cared about what he said; he’d been getting insults like that since
he’d been sixteen, and they had never affected him before, and
weren’t likely to start now.

“Who do
you think should get the first dubious honor, Severus?” Lucius said,
mocking him. “Do you have a preference?”

Snape just
opened his eyes and forced himself into a sitting position, trying to keep them
all in sight. His hands were bound, but if he could get to his wand he might be
able to free himself… He was overtaken with a far more urgent desire to
escape than when he had just been promised torture and death. There was a
chance…

“No
preference? You really aren’t particularly discriminating, are you? That
doesn’t bother me much…” He stalked closer as Snape started
to push himself backward slightly, but it was really useless to try to get
away, as he was surrounded. He focused rather on reaching his wand in his
pocket…

Lucius crouched
in front of him. “I think I’ll take it then. After that, everyone
else here can just take turns…”

He leaned
forward with a smirk. Snape kicked him in the jaw as his fingers closed around
his wand, sending the blond over backward as his bonds vanished, and he quickly
regained his feet, his wand out, prepared to curse them all and make his
escape-

“Crucio!”

He didn’t
know who yelled it, but he didn’t escape it. He fell to his knees again, his eyes clenched shut against the pain, the fiery
agony consuming him yet again. He clenched his hands tightly on the
ground… Why couldn’t he just die
already… Or pass out or something… He was
sure he couldn’t take much more of this…

Before he pain
had even faded entirely, he felt himself thrown onto the ground. “You
bitch!” Lucius Malfoy was yelling. He just blinked a few times, trying to
breathe. Lucius kicked him again, and he grunted, but little else. He realized
dimly that he still had his wand clenched tightly in one hand, but he
couldn’t use it just yet… He needed to clear his mind. He
couldn’t even think of any spells at the moment.

Then Lucius
ripped it from his hand and threw it backward. It hit a tree… someone
must have picked it up, because he winced when he heard it snap. Someone had
just broken his wand.

Lucius pulled
him to his feet and slammed him back into a tree. “You’re going to
scream for me, you fucking bitch…” he said, his voice low and
dangerous. Snape just looked at him levelly. He wasn’t going to scream,
no matter what they did to him, and he was confident in that fact. He
couldn’t escape, but he wouldn’t give in either.

“Do you
hear me?” Lucius hissed. Snape’s lack of answer apparently
infuriated him, for he hit him again. It didn’t affect him at all, as he
just looked back at him, and Lucius made a visible effort to calm himself,
transforming his look of rage into a superior smirk, which chilled Snape more
than all the inherent violence in him could have ever
done.

“Play
dumb, then,” he said. “It’s not such a stretch, after
all.” He threw him sideways to the ground, and he found himself bound
again, on his knees with his arms trapped behind him. He struggled for a moment,
but it was futile. He took a deep breath, and he felt Lucius on the ground
behind him. He had survived this before, and they wouldn’t be able to
break him now. What they did to him wouldn’t matter, wouldn’t hurt
him. He would survive it, as he had survived everything else that had happened
to him…

“You’re
not going to enjoy this…” Lucius promised, then
he felt the cold night air on his skin as his clothes were magically removed,
and he shivered, less with the temperature than the sudden exposure. “Actually…”
he continued, “you’re such a slut… you might.”

Snape felt the
urge to curse him… if he’d had his wand, he would gladly have used
the Avada Kedavra on him, and he had sworn he would never use that curse again
almost twenty years ago. But he was helpless, as was made painfully obvious
when Lucius roughly held him immobile and entered him. He ground his teeth
against a cry of surprise and pain, his eyes clenched
shut, ignoring the pain and the humiliation. He would survive it this time, as
he had before…

He made no
sound, trying his best to block out the jeers of the other Death Eaters, trying
even more desperately to block out the feel of Lucius Malfoy behind him… in him…

“Come on,
bitch…” he heard in his ear, accompanied soon after by a particularly
painful thrust. “Scream for me and I’ll let you go…”

He resolutely
held his tongue. Let them do as they would – he wouldn’t give them
the satisfaction of knowing that they affected him. He wouldn’t even give
them the satisfaction of affecting him. This meant no more than it did with Him… it was just something that
was happening, like an exam in a class… he just had to pass…

There was no
pleasure to be had from Lucius, for which he was grateful. Pain he could handle
admirably; pleasure he was unfamiliar enough with that it could draw a reaction
from him. And there was quite a lot of pain. There had been no preparation, and
Lucius seemed intent on causing him as much pain as he possibly could in his
vain attempts to draw a scream. He felt blood trickle down his legs toward the
ground as his shoulders were pressed down, holding him immobile and submissive.
All the better. This was actually easier than with Him, as he had no reactions to
fake… it was easier to bear it expressionlessly than to be pretending to
enjoy it.

“Scream!”
Lucius said angrily, and thrust into him particularly hard, making him let out
a noise of pain much more reminiscent of a grunt than a scream.

“Don’t
worry; we’ll make him scream…” he heard one of the others
say. For just a split second he wondered what he meant – but then he realized, a fraction of a second before he heard the curse,
and tried to prepare himself for the immense pain again…

“Crucio!”

There was no
preparing for the pain, though. Every time he felt it it was completely new,
and now was no different. It was as though he had never felt this pain before,
as he clenched his hands tightly in their bindings, and as his teeth ground
instinctively together against the scream that was always just beneath the
surface… He couldn’t move; even Lucius Malfoy seemed to have lost
all of his importance as he felt the familiar agony… his bones were on
fire, melting into a burning liquid that coursed through his body, consuming
him and giving him a taste of the Hell he was undoubtedly destined for…

Lucius was no
longer inside or even behind him, he realized dully as the pain finally faded.
It seemed as though it had lasted longer this time… Or maybe his
tolerance was just wearing down. He slowly unclenched his hands, feeling his
fingernails come free of his skin and the warm blood slick on his hands. His
forehead was against the ground as he tried to breathe. Idly, he wondered how
much more he could stand before he wound up like the Longbottoms,
tortured into insanity and doomed to spend the rest of their days in St. Mungo’s long-term ward… Or until he just died
from it. Somehow, though, he had a feeling they weren’t going to let him
get off that easily, with just a painful death…

“That was
almost good…” Lucius told them. “If you can forget who the
greaseball you’re screwing is, at least. And the Cruciatus was a nice
touch… he goes completely rigid and all of his muscles clench
up…”

Snape shuddered
slightly, feeling what was likely a mixture of his own blood
and Malfoy’s semen trickle down his leg from
his painful rear end. If he hadn’t been already sick to his
stomach from the curses, that would have been enough to do it. It was almost
enough to make him throw up – but no, he had to control himself. These
idiots weren’t affecting him any. He had endured worse…

But he
wasn’t entirely certain if that were true any longer. Especially as
Lucius called for the next volunteer to try and break him, and McNair stepped
forward. Snape let his head fall back down to the ground, willing himself to
pass out beyond the realm of their ability to revive him, so that he could at
least put this off longer, or not be aware when it happened… But of
course it didn’t work. He remained as conscious and as lucid as ever, as
the burly executioner kicked him in the stomach and sent him to the ground. He
was smirking as he reached toward his belt, and Snape shut his eyes. Even
Voldemort would be preferable to this…

There was a
crack as someone Apparated within the circle of Death Eaters. He felt a cold wave
wash over him, and he knew who had arrived, even before he opened his eyes to
let them fall upon the tall, thin form of Lord Voldemort…

Snake-like eyes
in a flat face took in every detail of the scene, as Snape moved to his knees
again, rather than on his back. It was slightly less vulnerable, at least.

The high, cold
voice that spoke from the flat face was even colder, quiet and dangerous.
“What is the meaning of this?”

“This man
is a spy, Lord,” Lucius said, bowing slightly to Voldemort. “We
have the proof… He works for Dumbledore.”

Voldemort
regarded him with expressionless eyes for a moment, then
switched his gaze to Snape. McNair had long ago scuttled back to his place in
the circle. “And why did you decide to take matters into your own hands,
rather than inform me?” he asked coldly, without removing his eyes from
the bound man. Snape just looked at him defiantly, holding his head high and
meeting his eyes effortlessly.

“We had
every intention of informing you,” Lucius said smoothly. “He was
defiant, however… trouble… We thought to break him first.”

“You know
I enjoy doing that myself.”

It seemed Lucius
had no answer for that, and Voldemort appeared to dismiss him. Instead he
walked slowly closer to Snape, who just stared at him unflinchingly. He was
already discovered. Denying it would do no good whatsoever.

“Crucio,” Voldemort said almost
lazily, his wand pointed not at Snape but at Lucius, at whom
he still wasn’t looking. Snape let his eyes flick toward the blond
– he was now writhing and screaming on the ground. If he hadn’t
been bound and naked before Lord Voldemort, it would have been satisfying to
watch.

Then
Voldemort’s wand was under his chin, turning his face back up to look at
him. Snape met his eyes easily enough, his own as cold and expressionless as he
could make them. He didn’t bother trying to disguise his emotions from
the other’s mind; instead, he let himself feeling the hatred and rage and
disgust that he had kept so bottled up and suppressed. He wanted Voldemort to
know exactly how he felt about him.

“I will
take care of this,” the Dark Lord said coldly to the others, his eyes
narrowed at Snape. Lucius’s screaming was
tapering off; everyone else bowed to him. Snape felt his clothes returned –
for the moment, at least – before Voldemort took them both from the
circle of Death Eaters, Apparating them both
somewhere else. He neither knew nor cared where they were. He was lost anyway.

“Now, Severus…”
Voldemort said, pacing around him while he stayed on the ground, bound and staring
straight ahead. “They tell me that you are a spy. An hour ago I wouldn’t
have believed them. Ten minutes ago I wouldn’t have believed them. From
the moment I heard you think my name, however…” Snape wondered
briefly how he could possibly have heard him think his name, but held his
tongue. It wouldn’t do him any good to know.

“I see now
that I can’t trust anything you’ve told me. I also see that I was a
fool to trust anyone whose emotions I couldn’t read exactly. You had such
hate in you, however, when you first came to me, that I made the mistake of thinking you
were trustworthy, that you couldn’t possibly betray me in favor of those
who had caused you such distress… I see that I need to be a better judge
of character. However, I will have the truth about everything you told me.”
He paced around in front of him again, but this time stopped and looked down at
him. Snape met his eyes without fear. He would do his best to keep his secrets…
he might end up spilling what he knew in the end, but he would make Voldemort
work for it.

“Perhaps
if you tell me what you know, I can make this easy on you…”

Not likely.
Maybe he couldn’t survive this, or keep his secrets under ‘interrogation’…
but he could do his best to make sure He
never got a word out of him. He would prefer a quick death in a fit of rage
anyway.

He spat at
Voldemort’s feet.

For a moment it
seemed that he had been successful. He found himself slammed back against the
wall in pain before he realized that anything had happened, then
Voldemort had his wand out and pointed at his heart. “Nice try, pet.”

He felt his
stomach try to stage a revolt. “Don’t call me that.”

Voldemort
smirked. “I can call you whatever I want. Now, pet, I have some questions that I want answered. You have some answers
I want. Are you going to give them to me, or are you going to force me to take
them from your mind?”

The idea of
Voldemort invading his mind… taking what he wanted… was repulsive.
The idea of selling out Dumbledore and the others just to save himself that
experience was even more so. “I’ll give you nothing.”

“I
suspected as much,” Voldemort said with a cold smirk. “I’ll
enjoy forcing you to tell me. An easy question first. Who is the werewolf’s
secret-keeper?”

Snape smirked. “Me.”

“Ah. And
now I must wonder why you told me that so easily. Is he lying,
do you think, Nagini?” Snape looked toward the
floor; the snake was there, slithering along the floor, looking toward him
hungrily. Over the last couple years, he had developed a loathing for snakes
that no Slytherin had probably ever before experienced, and the constrictor
disgusted him.

The snake
hissed, and Voldemort turned back toward him. “Nagini
doesn’t believe you,” he said. “She thinks you deserve to be
punished.” Then he felt the excruciating pain of the Cruciatus yet again,
before he ever heard the curse. If Lucius Malfoy’s
was torture, then this was living death… It felt as though every cell
were being individually ripped apart, slowly, from the outside in, and when it
finally reached his heart he was sure he would just die right then…

“Who is
it?” he heard as from a great distance, a high cold voice he couldn’t
deny…

“Me…”
he heard his own voice reply. He would say anything to make this stop… He
didn’t have a choice, he would tell him anything he wanted, but just make
the pain stop…

“You’re
lying.”

The pain was
just beginning to fade, and he opened his eyes just in time to see the wand
being raised again. “I’m not lying,” he said quietly,
quickly, trying to convince him of the fact. He didn’t want to experience
that again… Never again, if possible…

“Then tell
me.”

“I can’t.”

“You’re
lying to me. I don’t like being lied to, pet.”

He shuddered. “I’m
not lying,” he said again through clenched teeth. Just no more pain…

“You hate
him. He wouldn’t use you.”

Snape looked up
at him, his head still bowed. “No one would expect it. What better place
to hide it?” His voice was more bitter than he
had intended.

Voldemort
narrowed his eyes. “Do not mock me, you insolent cur…”

“Would I
do that?”

He knew it was a
bad idea to say that even before he did, but he couldn’t stop himself. He
saw anger on the snakelike face of the Dark Lord, the
wand raised toward him again, and couldn’t stop a flinch just before he
heard it again. Then he was once more being eaten alive by the pain… He
was dying, and if he wasn’t he would rather have been. It was so intense…
it was consuming him utterly… He wanted to scream but he couldn’t
his body wouldn’t let him and he wouldn’t let himself… He
would never scream for him again…

“Tell me!”
Voldemort demanded as it faded.

“I can’t…”
he panted, lying on the floor, his eyes closed. “Pensive…”

Voldemort’s
voice was intrigued. “You transferred all of your knowledge into a
Pensive…” he mused. “Interesting…”

“So you
won’t get anything from me,” Snape said more confidently, sitting
up again – forcing himself to sit up, rather.
His entire body burned, a fire in his veins, but it was nothing after the
curse. “Kill me now – I have no information for you.”

Voldemort
smirked. “I think not. I won’t kill you for another eight months or
so… I still mean to have my heir.” Snape flinched again and felt
the blood drain from his face. He had almost forgotten… “But the
Pensive is not much of a problem… The information is still there, after
all. I just have to go get it for myself…”

Snape gasped
very slightly and pushed himself away from him, back into the wall. Voldemort smirked
again and moved closer, putting his wand to his head. Snape was immobilized –
he couldn’t move away, couldn’t struggle at all. He was desperate –
Voldemort would not invade his mind!

As he felt him
beginning to do just that, something snapped inside his mind. As the scream
died in his throat, all emotion vanished from his face, and he ceased to be
aware of anything happening around him, or even to him…
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Old Habits Die Hard