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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
- 4
- 5
- 6
Title: Old Habits Die Hard

Author: setosgirl

Words: 4,844

Warnings: Slash, MPREG – this chap,
rape, humiliation

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, Remus / 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 5

setosgirl

“You don’t know what has
happened to Severus Snape to make him the man he is today.”

Those were the words Harry heard in
his mind as he made his way into the dungeons, the words Dumbledore had said to
him when he had gone back to complain some more, having thought the situation
over. Well, that was true, but he still couldn’t stand the man. The
thought had crossed his mind, however, that maybe, if he did know what had happened to him, he actually would be able to
feel something for him besides contempt and loathing, and he thought that that
might be a good idea. Dumbledore wanted him to stop being disrespectful, after
all, right? Well, he couldn’t do that if he hated the man, he was sure of
that.

There was a way to learn everything
he could about him, though – and once he had a look inside that Pensieve,
he would either be a lot more understanding of Snape, or he would know that he
was right to hate him. Either way, it would be for the best.

He looked around quickly, making
sure there was no one to see him, he slipped through
Snape’s classroom and into his office. It was the middle of the night
– Snape hadn’t been in school for two days now, and Harry was
certain that, even if he came back, he wouldn’t come straight to his
office, but rather probably to bed. So, he assured himself as he unlocked the
cabinet, seeing the faint silver light coming from the stone bowl, he was
perfectly safe… and he really was doing the right thing…

He pulled the Pensieve from the
cupboard and set it on the desk, then, with one last furtive glance around, he
poked the swirling mist with his wand.

The mists immediately turned
transparent, and Harry found himself transfixed, staring down into the depths
of his Potions master’s mind, then actually
sucked into it as he had been Dumbledore’s. Images flashed before him, as
though it had waited too long to purge its poisonous contents and
couldn’t decide which to get rid of first. He saw flashes of Voldemort
everywhere, as he looked now and as he must have looked almost twenty years
ago. He could see Snape tied to a bed, though the scene kept changing, and he
wondered in shock how many times he had gone to him. He was one minute tied
there and bearing it expressionlessly. The next he was screaming in apparent
pleasure, the next naked and on his knees, bowing before the dark wizard…

Then the Pensieve seemed to choose a
memory to show him. It was an almost twenty year younger Snape and Voldemort,
speaking…

“Why have you decided to join
me?” the elder asked smoothly. He could see that if the answer
wasn’t right, it could be fatal…

“My mother was killed in your
service,” the Snape answered coldly.

“So now you wish to avenge
her? Or follow in her footsteps?”

“No.” There was just the
barest hint of a sneer on his face, the forerunner to the sneer Harry himself
had grown to know so well. It was as though Harry could actually feel
Snape’s emotions, however, and there was a brief surge of pure and utter
hatred at the mention of his mother – or was it the mention of why he was
doing this?

Voldemort met his eyes briefly, then gave a small, frightening smile. “I see. The purest of all motivations. Then we will accept you, and
you will revenge yourself upon those who have hurt you so…” Harry
felt a moment of near panic from Snape when he realized his mind had been read
– did he know what had happened? Why he hated? No, he didn’t want
to even think about that…

Then the scene changed. “Stay
a moment, Snape…” Voldemort said quietly, and there were cracks all
around them of the other Death Eaters Disapparating, back to wherever they had
come from. Snape was apprehensive, but mostly expressionless, as his Lord
walked closer to him, actually having to look down at him, though Snape himself
was tall. Then Voldemort touched his cheek with one long hand, and he very
nearly flinched. Harry felt a moment of revulsion, laced with panic, from
Snape’s mind, but it didn’t show.

“I have another task for
you,” he said, and Snape visibly repressed a shiver of dread. “I
want you to prove your loyalty… serve me.” Then he leaned down
slightly to kiss him, before Snape could protest. Harry saw every muscle in his body go rigid, but he apparently forced
himself to relax and submitted to Voldemort’s will…

Then it changed again. A tall dark
man was standing over a small boy crying in a corner, blood leaking from his
nose, trying to make himself as small as possible. The
child couldn’t have been more than six or seven. “What have I told
you about those Muggle children?” the man yelled. “Those
filthy cretins! No son of mine will be seen with such creatures!”
He kicked the boy, who cried out and tried to make himself
even smaller.

“I think he’s learned
his lesson, Tobias,” a woman who looked all dark and brooding, with a rather
heavy face, said, glancing up from her book toward her husband and son.

“Not quite yet,” he said,
then kicked the boy again, making him whimper. She
just shrugged and went back to her book.

The boy that Harry understood to be
Severus Snape tried to cover his head with his arms. “They only asked me
out to play, father! I was going to tell them no – I was going to when
you found us!”

“You filthy lying brat!”
he yelled. “I saw what you were doing – you were talking with them!
Laughing! You have no business acting that way with Muggles!”

The small boy looked up with his
tear-stained face. “But – I thought – Aren’t you a
Muggle?”

The woman was out of her chair
before her husband could react. “Don’t say filthy things like that!”
she screeched, slapping him hard into the wall and making fresh blood spurt
from his injured nose. Then she backed off, breathing heavily, watching her crying
son with narrowed eyes as her husband took over again and began to beat him
viciously.

Harry was glad again when the scene
shifted. He felt guilty already for watching this – this was too private,
he never should have seen it…

It turned into a scene of Snape tied
to the bed, in the same house they had seen on Hermione’s parchment.
Voldemort was lying beside him; both were naked, Snape looking somewhat
expressionless, Voldemort appearing rather sated and not noticing his
“servant’s” expression.

“I have a treat for you, my
pet,” Voldemort said. One light hand ran through Snape’s hair at
his temple, not seeming to notice the greasy texture of it. Snape looked up
silently, into the repulsive face of his erstwhile master, a feeling of dread
taking up residence somewhere in the pit of his stomach as he wondered dully
what this surprise could be, fully felt by Harry.

“What is it, master?” he
asked as obsequiously as he could manage.

Then Voldemort smiled at him, almost
making him shudder again. “I have been planning for my future,
Snape,” he said, his hand still in his hair possessively. “For the
unlikely occurrence that this Potter brat does manage somehow to defeat me – ”

“Never, my lord,” Snape
said automatically. “He shall never defeat you.”

“Be that as it may, if –
if – he does somehow manage to
do so, I have decided that I must have an heir.”

“An heir, my
lord?”

Voldemort’s red eyes glinted
dully in the dim light. “Yes, my pet – an heir. And I have chosen
you to carry it for me.” Then the Dark One narrowed his eyes somewhat at
Snape’s silence and blank expression, which must have given something
away to him. “You seem less than pleased, Snape,” he said coldly.

“Merely surprised, my
Lord,” he managed to say. Harry guessed he was exerting his Occlumancy
skills to their utmost, because even he, in Snape’s own head,
couldn’t feel the disgust and horror he knew was there…

“I imagine,” Voldemort
said, once again in his better mood. “I imagine that you must be quite
surprised. Not everyone is lucky enough to be granted such an honour… You
are perhaps wondering why I chose you?”

“I was wondering how you meant
that,” Snape said carefully.

“Quite literally,” Voldemort
assured him, and Harry felt Snape getting faint. “You are to be the
mother of my child – in fact, you are already carrying it.” He
seemed pleased with himself. “It was difficult to create the proper
spells and potions – quite difficult, indeed – but I have finally
managed it. You will produce my heir, who will avenge me and carry out my plans
if I should fail.”

“And…
why me?”
Snape asked after a glance at the goblet on the table. “Surely one of the
witches – If it is a question of Pureblood, of loyalty, Black’s
cousin Bellatrix –”

Voldemort cut him off. “No,
boy, it must be you. If it gets out that I have an heir, no one would ever
think to look there – you are the perfect hiding place for my child. If
the worst happens and I should die, you will be able to raise it and teach it,
and it shall through you learn of its father and the unjust end to which he was
put. You will make sure that I do not go unavenged.”
He narrowed his eyes again. “Unless you don’t like my gift to
you…? The honour you have received?”

“That is not it at all, my
Lord,” Snape assured him, inclining his head respectfully. “I am
honoured to… carry your child.”

“Of course you are,”
Voldemort said maliciously. “Any real Deatheater would be.” Harry
felt a start in Snape’s emotions – he was wondering if he was found
out… “And now I suppose it is time for you to go – lest you
be missed at the school. You must do nothing to arouse suspicion, especially
now. If anyone finds out about this…”

Harry felt himself trying not to gag
as it changed again. Snape was pregnant? Snape
was pregnant? With Voldemort’s child? Snape was pregnant with Voldemort’s child? He was about
ready to wrench himself away from the Pensieve through pure force of will, but
it changed into something entirely new. No Voldemort. No father. No one, except for Snape walking down a dark corridor. He
looked like maybe a fifth year… maybe less. He wasn’t as tall yet,
and his hair actually looked clean.

He walked quietly down the hallway,
apparently muttering to himself – he sounded like he was trying to
memorize something. Harry listened closer; it sounded like the instructions for
a potion of some sort, and coupled with the vague anxiety and resignation he
felt from him, it made him think he was having trouble in that class. He was
astounded. Snape? Actually having to work at potions? Never. The man must have been born with the instructions for
a Polyjuice on his lips.

He walked through a shaft of
moonlight thrown through a window, then suddenly
stumbled over an invisible obstacle. He turned back to glare in that direction.
“Come out, Black, or leave me alone. I have no time for filth like you
right now.”

Harry felt himself get angry at
Snape for talking like that to Sirius, even if they had been kids, even if they
had hated each other. No one he hated as much as he did Snape should be allowed
to talk to someone he loved as much as he had Sirius like that.

Then he heard Sirius’s voice
from thin air, sounding younger than he had ever heard it… except for
that one time also in this very Pensieve. “What are you doing out at this
hour, Snivellus?” he asked. “I’m sure the teachers would like
to know… Maybe the Bloody Baron…”

“I have permission – I
was in the library. Anyway, how are you going to tell them in Potter’s
Invisibility cloak? Maybe I’m the one who should be exposing you.” He snatched at midair, his
small dark eyes narrowed in concentration, and Harry was surprised when he
pulled the cloak right off, exposing Sirius Black, his dead godfather, whom he
hadn’t seen for more than a year… He was mesmerized, and
couldn’t take his eyes off of him. Sirius was surprised too, apparently,
to judge by the look on his face. Snape’s expression was rather smug at
this small victory.

Then Sirius’s expression
changed to one of anger and he shoved Snape backward, snatching the cloak back.
Snape stumbled with a rather comical look on his own face, then
fell through an unlatched door, into an empty classroom. Sirius, young and
handsome and alive Sirius, shut the
door behind them as Snape fell into a desk, then
angrily pushed himself back to his feet.

Sirius had his wand out.
“Okay, Snivellus – what are you going to do now? No Lilly Evans here
to save you…”

“Like I need help from a Mudblood!” he spat. Harry, if he could have, would have
punched him for insulting his mother like that. But despite his words, his eyes
strayed to the door behind Sirius, as though he were looking for an escape.
Sirius seemed to realize it as well and moved to block the door entirely, a
small playful grin on his face.

Harry knew from his second year that
Snape was an expert at duelling – but he must have picked that up later,
because he had barely reached for his wand when Sirius shouted “Expelliarmus!” and it went flying across the room, as
Snape stumbled backward. Harry let out an inaudible cheer at seeing Sirius take
care of Snape so easily – it was satisfying to see. Then Sirius yelled
another spell: “Silencio!”

Snape only glared at him, backing
up, apparently in fear – but Harry saw what he was really doing. He was
trying to get to his wand. He wondered what good that could do; if he
couldn’t speak, he couldn’t cast any spells… He reminded
himself to remember that trick, for the next time he duelled someone.

It was hard to tell if Sirius saw
what he was trying to do or not, but he suddenly charged him. Snape scrambled
to get away, thinking maybe to get around him and escape the room, but he
wasn’t particularly athletic, and Sirius caught him and slammed him into
the teacher’s desk.

“Caught
you,” he said quietly, with a smirk. “Now what are you going to do? No wand,
no voice, no hero… Looks like you’re at my mercy, Snivellus.”

Snape struggled. Harry felt nothing
but anger coming from him, and willed Sirius to put him in his place. Just
teach him a little lesson…

Sirius slammed him into the desk again, making him put his hands down to keep from slamming
his face in it. Then Sirius, who was actually a little taller than Snape at his
point, leaned over his back and spoke into his ear. “I have an
idea… You seem awfully smug… maybe I should put you in your
place.” Snape glared at him and struggled to throw him off, but Sirius
just swept his arms away and slammed his chest heavily into the desk. Snape
looked like he tried to make a sound as his forehead made contact with the wood
and his arms were pinned behind his back, but nothing came out.

Then Snape tried to straighten up
and throw Sirius away, a look of horror and revulsion crossing his face, his
mouth working as though he were trying to yell. Harry didn’t understand
why, at first, as he was focused on Snape’s expression and the matching
emotions, until Sirius pushed him back down and kept him still. He noticed
Sirius grinding his hips into Snape’s backside, and Snape was shaking his
head in negation. Sirius's other hand, the one not holding his wrists together
and pressing him down, had moved around to the front of Snape…

Harry heard Snape’s pants
slither to the floor, obscenely loud in the darkness. He watched in horror as
his future godfather pushed Snape’s robes up and reached down quickly to
free his own already fully-awakened erection. Snape struggled, trying
desperately to get away, shaking his head and looking like he was trying to
yell for help, or berate Sirius, or something… but still eerily silent
because of the spell. When Sirius entered him, completely
unprepared and with almost no warning, he struggled fiercely, arching his back
and trying to pull away – apparently trying to scream. Sirius just
pushed him back down, breathing rather heavily.

“Oh, that’s good,
Snivellus…” he said breathlessly. “Really.
This won’t take long…” Then he plunged into him. Harry
couldn’t look at his face; he tried, but the triumph and sadistic glee he
saw there scared him, and he just couldn’t do it. He couldn’t watch
what he was doing, either. Instead he watched Snape’s face, watched the
pain and horror there. That was what he had gone into his Pensieve for in the
first place, after all… to see what had made Snape the man he was
today… and the pain and terror and hatred that chased each other through
his mind seemed to have had a large part in that. The hatred that had driven
him to join the Death Eaters was for Sirius… this one act had shaped his
life ever since, had almost singularly made him who he was…

Sirius had been right; it
didn’t last long. Only a few minutes later, a look of the purest
horrified… or terrified… revulsion swept itself across
Snape’s face, as Harry heard Sirius utter a muffled groan as he released.
He pulled out swiftly, after catching his breath, and let Snape go. Snape
quickly covered himself again; there wasn’t any possible way to do that
with any dignity, but he looked as though he was trying, all the while
trembling slightly. He turned back to look at Sirius, who smirked at him. Snape
cringed. Harry had to swallow around a lump in his throat. Sirius had…

Then there was a noise at the door.
Snape flinched and looked toward it with wide eyes, while Sirius cursed under
his breath and did the same, looking apprehensive and a little guilty. Snape
had an odd mix of terror and shame on his face. They were both afraid it was a
teacher.

When the door opened, Sirius smiled,
and Snape pulled away and actually slid down the side of the desk. Harry turned
to see a familiar unruly black hair come into the room, and under that hair was
his father, in all of his glory… the handsome, rebellious Quidditch
star… just as stuck up as Professor Snape had always told him he was but
still a good guy despite it. That was what Harry believed, at least.

“James,” Sirius said.
“You guys gave me a start there.” Harry saw, then, that James
Potter wasn’t alone. He was followed by a pudgy
boy he knew to be Peter Pettigrew, and a rather wan-looking boy, Remus Lupin.

James glanced around the room, barely
seeming to care about Snape. “I was looking at the map and saw the two of
you standing in one place for so long, I thought maybe
you had managed to kill each other or something.” He leaned against the
wall and grinned. “Was he good?”

“Surprisingly, yes,”
Sirius said, leaning back on a student’s desk. “You want a
go?”

“Not right now,” James
answered easily. “Maybe later. It
shouldn’t be that hard to catch him again,
should it?” Peter, on the other hand, looked hard at Snape, as though he
would have jumped at the chance. Harry knew that Pettigrew had been a Death
Eater… he wondered morbidly if Voldemort had ever let him have Snape.

Remus looked horrified. “My
god,” he said. “Sirius – what did you do?”

“I didn’t hurt him
any,” he snorted. Remus ignored him and went to
Snape’s side to help him up.

“Severus, let me help
you,” he said when Snape just flinched away from him. Then Snape shoved
him away and forced himself to stand up, back to he
desk so that he could keep them all in sight. He was speaking, but he still had
no voice, so they couldn’t hear him. Harry did catch the phrase
‘kill you all’ on his lips, though.

“I rather think this is an
improvement,” Sirius said in an almost bored voice. “I think I
should make the change permanent, don’t you?”

“He is slightly less
annoying,” Harry saw his father agree. “But I think people might
notice if Snape suddenly started shutting his big mouth once in a while.
You’d better give him his voice back. It’s not like he’s going
to tell anyone.”

“He hasn’t got anyone to
tell,” Peter agreed. “He hasn’t got any friends…”

Remus glared at them all and handed Snape
back the wand he had retrieved from the floor. Snape snatched it away, holding
it tightly, still prepared to use it as a weapon against them. “Finite Incantatem,” Remus said
quietly.

“—if you so much as look at me again,” Snape was
hissing angrily at Sirius, his eyes angry and his mind in turmoil.

Sirius interrupted him with a mock
yawn. “You’re such a bore, Snivellus. Just get out of here while
I’m feeling magnanimous.” He glanced at him with a grin.
“That means nice.”

James and Peter laughed (though
Harry actually had his doubts that Peter himself had known what magnanimous
meant before Sirius said). The simple taunt seemed to make Snape angrier than anything
else had done, and he took a quick look around at the four of them before
deciding that he couldn’t beat them and storming out of the room,
slamming the door loudly. He walked quickly back to the dungeons, Harry almost
forced to follow him along, as this was Snape’s memory… and then,
to Harry’s surprise, he threw himself down on his bed, pulled his pillow
over his head to muffle the noise, and screamed.

Harry found himself sitting and
shaking in Snape’s chair, in Snape’s office. Had he really just seen
that? Had that really happened? It couldn’t have. Sirius wasn’t
– he wasn’t – like
that. He wouldn’t do something like that. Would he? No,
of course not. And his father wouldn’t have just let it go like
that. That was completely out of character for both of them. But then how did
it get in the Pensieve? You couldn’t lie to a Pensieve… could you?
He didn’t know. Maybe it was possible…

He put the Pensieve back with
slightly trembling hands, locked the cabinet again, and made sure everything was
how he had found it, before taking off at a run. He didn’t know where he
was going; he just wanted to get away from there, from that memory… he
didn’t want to think about Sirius… or his father… doing
that… to anyone, but not to Snape, especially not to Snape… he
didn’t want to think that they were almost single-handedly responsible
for making him into the man he was today…

His feet led him without his
mind’s consent, and he found himself in front of a gargoyle… he
said the password without even thinking about it and stepped onto the moving
stairs, still asking himself what he was doing here, what he hoped to gain by
talking to Dumbledore…

“Come in, Harry,”
Dumbledore told him, as the door opened without him touching it. He appeared to
have been pacing, thinking, and was looking at Harry kindly from beside his
desk. He wasn’t smiling, though, Harry noticed. He didn’t know why,
but he was glad of it. He didn’t think he’d have been able to
return it. “Now, what’s on your mind?” he asked as Harry sat.

“Professor Dumbledore –
is there… Is there any way for something that isn’t true to get
into a Pensieve?”

Dumbledore looked at him for a
moment, then sat behind his desk and steepled his
fingers. “No, Harry, there isn’t. The Pensieve takes the very
memory itself, leaving only a ghost of it there so that the user knows it
happened but can’t remember it. There’s no way to lie to it.”

Harry nodded. “I thought
so.”

“What’s bothering you,
Harry?” he asked.

Harry didn’t look up at him.
He was ashamed of what he’d done – he knew he shouldn’t have
done that, but he’d thought he was doing the right thing…
“Did you know that he was raped?” he asked quietly. They both knew
who he was talking about without him having to say it out loud.

“I’ve always suspected
as much,” Dumbledore said. “He never came to me, though, and
I’ve never pried.” It didn’t sound like a pointed barb, but
it felt like one, and Harry winced. “Fifth year?”

“Yeah, I think,” he
said, looking up in surprise. “How’d you…”

“He changed very dramatically,
that year. One day he seemed normal; a week later, he had stopped coming out of
the dungeons except for class, even as far as not coming out to come to dinner.
It was as though he were afraid he’d be waylaid if he ever went anywhere
not surrounded by the rest of his house – I would say his friends, but he
never really had any friends. It rather seems that he still hasn’t gotten
back into the habit of eating dinner, even if he does go.” He seemed
rather thoughtful.

“Yeah, he… they said it
would be easy to trap him again…” Harry said quietly. Not they
– him. His
father. His own father had threatened to come after Snape and rape him,
like Sirius had done…

“He also started doing better
in his classes, most notably potions. Interesting that
ingredients began to go missing at the same time; I suspect he was using
them to secretly mix his own potions, most likely to get rid of the dreams, or
relieve anxiety. Rather admirable, in fact. It also seemed that he applied
himself more vigorously to his studies, to keep his mind off of it, perhaps,
because where he had been a mediocre student before, he became a good one, and
where had had been good he became extraordinary.” Harry noticed that
Dumbledore seemed almost to be getting this off of his own chest. Maybe he felt
guilty for seeing that something had happened to Snape and doing nothing about
it…? “Until then, too he had been clean and rather good
looking… you’ve seen his hair now.”

“It gets worse than
that…” he told him hesitantly. “I saw who did it…
It… it was Sirius.”

Dumbledore closed his eyes briefly.
“Oh, Sirius…” he thought he saw him whisper, but he heard
nothing.

“Then my father and the others
came in… and he offered to let my dad do it
too… But he refused, and he was
the one who said that it would be easy to come after him later…” He
put his head on his arms, on Dumbledore’s desk. “At least Remus tried to help him…” he mumbled.

“And that would be why he
hates Remus Lupin,”
Dumbledore said. “And why you asked if you could lie to a Pensieve…
but no. Everything you saw did happen.” Harry nodded dumbly. He had
already accepted that it was real. He didn’t know how he could live with
that, though…

“And now, Harry, I must
admonish you most strongly. You seem to have a bad habit of looking into
people’s most secret thoughts unasked.” Harry looked up, surprised.
He looked stern, almost frightening. “I overlooked it when you looked
into my Pensieve, because you did not know what you were doing. But you cannot
possibly know what kind of an intrusion it is for you to do so. You remember
what it was like when Professor Snape glanced into your mind during your
Occlumancy lessons – which were cancelled so abruptly, I believe, because
of something very similar. I tell you that that feeling is very little compared
to the invasion of looking into someone’s Pensieve – especially
someone as private as Professor Snape. It is the most grievous invasion of
privacy you can commit. I ask you please to contain your natural curiosity, no
mater what it takes. If he were ever to find out of what you have
done…”

“I understand,” Harry
said quietly. “I wont do it again – I
never want to. Not after everything I saw…” He shuddered slightly.

Dumbledore nodded. “Now go to
bed, Harry. It’s the middle of the night. And speak of this to no
one.” Harry nodded again and left, feeling the same heavy feeling of
disbelief in the pit of his stomach that he’d felt earlier. He understood
Snape so much better now… and he didn’t like the feeling at all.
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Old Habits Die Hard