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The Protector	By : muteandtremorless Category: Harry Potter > General > General Views: 3711 -:- 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
- 5
- 6
- 7
Title: The Protector
Chapter 6: Night Deepens
Rating [chapter]: NC-17 for sex, drugs, and that probably covers it.
Disclaimer: I don't own the characters.

Sneed and I wound up in a hole in the wall in the poorest district of some muggle town. What sticks out in my mind now is the colors of the walls. They were a yellowish brown for the most part, like the brown pages of an ancient book. Occasionally there'd be a bloodstain, or something tannish and unidentifiable marring the smooth looking surface of the eyesore. The room was larger than the one Sneed's lab had occupied at Howarts, part of it was a tiny, molding, kitchen that appeared to have grown itself out of a great rotting portion of the wall. We found another mattress, but I tried to keep it clean, because it was my only solace. I remember that room, that apartment, that filthy hole, because it was where I did one of the things I regret most.
The building we lived in contained seven other holes in the wall, and a toilet. Each room contained a sink, but the water that sprouted from it was often rust colored, and iron filled; hardly drinkable. After a time we kept clean water stolen from park water fountains in large gallon containers under the sink. At first we didn't eat or sleep well. Gun shots, sirens, loud quarreling, and the sound of objects being smashed apart were our nightly and often morning, afternoon, and evening lullabies. The cheap food we did buy was the cereal on the very bottom shelves, and with coupons. Often times we'd resort to rooting through trashcans for our most basic food needs. One thing I missed terribly was the feeling of capes, of wearing capes. There was something empowering in having a constant swish behind you, a looming thing that accented your walk, the way you held yourself; showed more of your power. Not that I had any then. Capes held a certain level of comfort for me, they were so easy to hide behind, to disappear behind. All the money we had was spent on acquiring enough drugs to keep us steady or for lab equipment.
Ile ale and Sneed worked, until of course we started the lab up again. Sneed's jobs only lasted about two weeks at the most, so it was difficult, difficult for several months.
When finally we could produce drugs again our health had suffered significantly. My nose was forever runny and I would have fevers constantly. Sneed however caught the worst of disease in our tiny household. He caught a terrible debilitating cough. At night I would lie awake and listen to him cough for minutes at a time, hacking, gut splitting coughs. He worked until he no longer had the strength to get out of bed. Then I took over everything: dealing, manufacturing, payments. At first I tried to help Sneed, in the evenings I would rub his shoulders, chest, neck and back. I bought medicines, and actual foods, like soups, and occasionally sandwiches and fresh fruit from local vendors. I even tried to make him feel important and in charge, I let him test all the finished products, count and recount the money. I pretended to be stupid on some matters and would ask humbly for his advice.
Was it a labor of love? No, not really. I owed him a great deal of gratitude for pulling me from one haze into another. At least then, 20% of the time, I was happy, for a few brief moments. The end results were less than happiness was worth, but something was still better than nothing. I didn't enjoy my life, but things, as I'd learned over time, could always get worse, no matter what. Whenever I grew sad or depressed I thought of Harry, of the happy Harry, and I was calmed. I still had horrible nightmares of his last moments of life, but when I was working, and supporting Sneed, I could, for the most part, ignore them.
The way we lived would have gone on contentedly if Sneed hadn't grown bored and tired of miserably being sick and useless. Now I understand his discomfort, but then I didn't. His comforting arms around my middle, in the dead of night, when only my screams broke through the darkness of my soul, ceased. He stopped letting me touch him, and demanded that I allow him to do certain things that he was clearly not capable of in his weakened state. I let him roll joints as often as he wanted in desperation, but the constant tremor of his body made it impossible for him to create other drugs. He wanted to control all the money. His new forceful attitude made me trust him less and vexed my nerves. Couldn't he see what I was doing for him? That I was trying to help him? All he cared about was the drugs and the money. I began to hide things from him, to keep money, and to appear more ignorant than I truly was.
We fought constantly and soon it was other tenants banging on our walls, and our door, to get us to cease our verbal onslaught of pain. I began to sleep on the floor in a pile of blankets and pillows. One night I awoke to sound of crying, it was Sneed.
Across the room his eyes flashed silver in the darkness, silver with tears. He was whimpering like a child, slick, steel, Sneed was whining. It made me want to close my eyes and bury myself further under the cold blankets.
"I want to go home." He just kept repeating those words over and over again, as if it would change the world, change something about our situation. As if he could indeed return home. Those words haunt me to this day. I can still hear Sneeds quick and desperate voice snaking awkwardly over those words. Something it seemed, he would never say. I realized that we had never gotten to know each other, by then we had been living together for nearly seven months, but I had no idea what his family was like. If he even had one at all, if they loved him. The safety blanket of my comfort in our relationship, already weakened, slipped completely away, and I closed my eyes, to keep more damaging thoughts from prying into my vulnerability.
The next day he said very little to me. After I gave him his evening dose, as I watched his body calm, and take in the drug, I slipped in under the covers and lay my body against his. Teasingly I let my hand wander inside his loosely fitting clothing and gently caress a nipple, or something more delicate. I began to rub my nose into the sensitive parts of his chest and neck, and to lick at his flesh. His body responded easily enough; he was already very content.
I toyed with him, bringing him very close to climax with my hand, and then backing off. I stripped off both our clothes and rubbed my body sensually against his. He moaned and protested in pleasure. As I moved down to his lower body, I massaged his torso, his thighs were particularly sensitive and whenever I kneaded my bony fingers into them he would laugh happily.
"Sneed." I drew his name out long and careful on my tongue. His eyes opened slightly and he stared down at me. My mouth lay inches away from his erect cock, I'm sure he would feel my breath, hot and excited, against it. I drummed my fingers against the sides of his hips. "I'll suck you if you promise to do me a favor?"
"Hm?" His old sly voice flowed from his vocal chord like a short note from a harp.
"I won't tell you what it is now, but you promise you'll do it, no matter what?" My eyes were sparkling from pent up need, I really did want to suck him, not just to get information out of him, but for the pleasure of it.
He nodded a short quick nod, and my tongue darted out to touch his tip.
"Good." I said smiling and placed my lips and the edge of my tongue over the end of his cock, I sucked hard, and gently fondled the rest of him with one of my hands. I took in a little of him at a time, fully removing my mouth, and then going down again farther each time, until he brushed against the back of my throat. He had began to pant and that caused him to erupt into a fit of coughing, I though of pulling off to clam him down, by one of his hands moved to the back of my head to hold me in place. I laughed slightly, feeling a trickle of pre-cum and tensing of his muscles. It only took a little teasing with my mouth and tongue for him to finally ejaculate.
When I finally sat up I noticed the blood on his chest, I ran to grab something to clean it up with and some fresh water for him to drink. He shrugged me off, once again his tough disagreeable self.
"I'm fine. What did you want?" Always a fair business man. I cleaned up what I could and set the towels on the stove. I made myself comfortable laying on his midsection. I rubbed some a medicinal poultice onto my hands and began to massage his chest.
"Tell me about your family." His eyes changed then, they both clouded, and became infinitely wide at the same time. He uttered some strange guttural sound, an angry howl of a sound, and grabbed the back of my neck.
"You filthy whore!" He hissed, jerked me up, and swung me into the tiny kitchen area. My slippery hands fought for a surface to stop my fall. They flew off whatever I grasped like grease. While spinning between surfaces I was angled to one side and I gashed my head open on the stove and landed on the floor. Things blackened for a moment then came blurily back into focus. Sneed was still shouting though, enraged. I spun around, ready to defend myself from any physical attacks. His attack wasn't physical, and his words hurt far more than the result of the strength he used to yank me from the floor and shove me against the wall.
"You did kill him! You sewed his eyes shut and hung him from a tree!" As he spoke those words I could clearly see his eyes, and I learned something, something very important, he was afraid of me. Very, very, afraid.
"I didn't." My voice protested meagerly, as blood raced down my face. Sneed swung his hand back and punched me. Blood burst from my nose, which luckily had the sense not to break.
"Don't you ever ask about my family again! It's your fault that I left Hogwarts! I don't know why I took interest in such a sneaky, undermining, stuck up brat like you! I thought someone so vicious, so conniving that they'd kill someone, would be good for business! But you weren't you stole it right out of my hands—" He flung me to the floor and retreated to his bed, still mumbling.
"Harry," I whispered into the carpet, watching my blood change its flow pattern and spread out to stain the carpet. "Harry?" I begged my voice resolving into unconsciousness.
To this day I'm not sure how long I remained out. When I awoke I was dizzy and my head hurt, but the sound of Sneed's coughing forced my instincts, built up through routine, to prevail. I forced myself up flinching only slightly at the separating of my open wound from its fused position on the blood caked carpet and moved to his side.
"Water." He croaked his eyes teary with so much coughing. Flecks of blood danced around a large spot on his pillow. My hands still greasy fumbled with the cap. Sneed's words from earlier raced in my mind, the feeling of his fist against my face, the momentum of my head against the table, the amount of blood. My father's face after he beat me. The fear and potential danger was what lead me to find the cyanide we kept incase of cop busts. My hands fearfully jerked at the bag spilling some of it, I poured the cyanide into his glass almost greedily and sealed the bag up, hiding it someplace irrelevant.
I supported Sneed's back as he drank the water, then I gently smoothed his hair; a faint smile crept across my lips.
"You're right. It was my fault Harry died. But I didn't do those horrible things to him." I gently traced my fingernail down a vein in Sneed's neck, I didn't really want to look at him anymore. His time had already ended. Happily I sunk my nails into his flesh and raked them time and time again down his front. I was free of him, free of his sick spell. Free.
When I finally stopped five minutes later he was completely dead. There was no more life in him. The sound of his troubled breathing no longer dominated the room. The refrigerator only gave off a dull hum, a pipe in the sink rumbled. It was suddenly so quiet that it threw reality out of whack, that things became wrong and confusing. I began to gather what I'd need, all the drugs, the money, and my meager belongings. I used my wand to shrink most of it. The spell was a good spell, but wouldn't last very long, only about 18 hours. I draped a cape over my head to hide the gash and slipped into the shadows outside of the building. I could hear my heart pounding in my chest, frightened, and delusional.
"Harry." I stared up at the stars, only two dull ones shone visible through the city lights and thick clouds of smoke. "Harry." The entire world was still for an instant as I breathed his name, just a moment of stillness. Then a door swung open, and I took off running, going nowhere, deep into the night.
--
to be continued
- 5
- 6
- 7
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The Protector