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What it comes down to	By : melinda1293 Category: Harry Potter > Threesomes/Moresomes Views: 115219 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 7
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 6
- 7
- 8
Chapter 7. Patronuses and Portkeys
Harry’s head throbbed in pain as he stared up at Snape. It always did after Occlumency lessons with him, but this time, he thought with satisfaction, he’d given as well as he got. Let the bastard see what it feels like for a change.
He could feel his eye swelling from the blow Snape had delivered to it. He felt dizzy, and lights winked in and out of his vision.
Gripping the hair on the top of his head painfully, Snape shook him a little as he snarled, “I’ll pull every tooth out of your head one by one if you even think of biting me.”
Harry stared up at him, mortified at what Snape expected him to do, burning with humiliation, but he couldn’t refuse. The threat to Hermione was all too real. He shuddered to think of her in here with him; of having to watch them violate her, helpless to stop it. Knowing what they’d done to him, picturing her in his place … it was enough to drive him mad. He was loath to comply, but he had no choice. Harry would not allow his friends to suffer. Not if it was in his power to stop it.
Taking a resigned breath, Harry slowly opened his mouth. Snape immediately pressed his hips forward, and Harry’s hands came up automatically to ward him off again. Pushing on his assailant’s thighs, he played for more time, but Snape was eager, insistent. He jerked Harry by the hair again, causing more stars to erupt in his vision.
Closing his eyes, Harry’s nostrils filled with the smell of his former Professor, both musky and spicy like the potions ingredients he handled. Then Harry felt the head of Snape’s cock bump against his chin. He shuddered with revulsion, but opened his mouth wider, wanting desperately for this to be over.
Snape corrected his angle for a second attempt. He didn’t miss this time, sliding his throbbing cock into Harry’s waiting mouth and hitting the back of his throat. A wave of panic rolled over Harry, and he choked. He tried to jerk his head away, but Snape held him firm. Pulling back again swiftly, Snape slid in again with a groan, his balls slapping against Harry’s chin.
Harry couldn’t breathe. Pushing against Snape’s thighs, his hips, he tried to slow the assault as every thrust cut off his air supply and caused the back of his head to bang against the stone wall. Snape was punishing him now, angry with his resistance, pushing in harder, faster.
Gagging on every powerful stroke, his eyes tearing, Harry coughed and retched every time he could draw breath as he struggled, and failed to pull away, to fight off his attacker.
Finally, in desperation, he grasped Snape’s shaft in his fist and wrapped his lips around his pulsing member, attempting to control the speed and depth of his thrusts. He pressed his tongue against the intruding head to stop it stabbing into the back of his throat. Above him, Snape growled in approval. Harry breathed through his nose, grateful for the reprieve as Snape slowed his relentless assault on his mouth.
It seemed a lot less messy when Bellatrix had done this to him that first time, he thought as his eyes streamed, his nose ran, and spit pooled in his mouth and dribbled down his chin, when he attempted to swallow. So Harry decided to try and mimic her actions. Squeezing his fist around Snape’s shaft so that every time he pulled back, the skin, slick with Harry’s saliva, slid through his fingers all the way to the head and then back down again when he pushed back in. Here, at least, he had some experience. He’d wanked enough times to know what felt good, to him anyway.
“Nnnnnggggg,” Snape growled, gripping Harry’s hair still more firmly.
Snape was fucking his mouth in long, slow strokes now that Harry was no longer resisting him. Sliding almost completely out so only his lips were pressed against the tip, his fist squeezing the head, and then back in slowly as Snape’s whole body shuddered. He was gratefully letting Harry’s hand do most of the work now, and Snape grunted in pleasure every time he thrust into Harry’s waiting mouth.
Then Snape switched tempo again, changed stances. He was no longer pumping into Harry, but standing stock still, the muscles in his thighs bunching, and Harry thought fleetingly that it was almost over. But then he began pulling Harry slowly down his shaft by the hand still wound in his hair.
Harry braced the hand fisting his cock. Holding it at its base, he circled it with finger and thumb with the other fingers splayed across the man’s lower abdomen while Snape dragged him forward and backward by the head.
Attempting to relax the muscles in his throat to keep from gagging, he allowed Snape to slide him all the way down so that his face was buried in the hair at the base of his cock. Harry was unable to breathe again with Snape all the way down his throat, and he convulsed around him a moment, trying not to panic, before Snape pulled him back.
“My, God, Potter,” Snape growled, panting, dragging him slowly down again. “I believe we’ve found something you’re a natural at.”
Harry could hear Lucius and Avery laughing, making him burn with shame. But if they were in his position, he thought, trying desperately not to be suffocated, he’d like to see what they’d do.
Absurdly, he thought of the headline that would appear in tomorrow’s Daily Prophet if he were to strangle on Snape’s cock. In bold black lettering: “Chosen One Chokes.” He could see in his mind’s eye Rita Skeeter, her vile acid green quick quotes quill positively smoking on the parchment as she rushed to get out her next best seller. He imagined the book with green lettering, his picture from the Tri-Wizard tournament smiling out from the cover. The unauthorized biography of his short tragic life, full of salacious lies about him. Telling the whole wizarding world what they’d done to him. Good lord, he was going insane.
“Look at me, Potter,” Snape commanded.
Harry obeyed, staring up into those hated black eyes. Watching as Snape sucked in a shuddering breath and then began pumping into his mouth again with quick rapid thrusts, never breaking eye contact.
Curling his lips under, Harry wrapped them around his teeth, biting down on Snape’s engorged cock. Snape was groaning again, deep in his throat, and Harry knew he was getting close now.
Come on, you bastard! he thought desperately.
Releasing the death grip on his hair finally, Snape pressed his palm over Harry’s scar, pushing his head back against the wall, bracing him there as he continued to drive into his mouth, and still he held eye contact. Then he was in Harry’s mind again, and images were rushing over him. Visions of his mother as a young child on the playground swing, her hair fanning out behind her. Glancing at him across the Great Hall with an apologetic little smile on her lips, sitting in the halls of Hogwarts, laughing with a group of girlfriends, smiling at him over a cauldron in the potions classroom, and then at the lake edge, teary eyed.
Snape squeezed his eyes shut, breaking the spell. Then, throwing his head back, he came with a roar. Harry tried to pull away, revolted as hot come squirted into his mouth, coating his throat anew with every contraction. Caught unprepared, he’d been bewildered by the unexpected images he’d seen. But he had nowhere to go, and Snape would not release him until he’d emptied himself into Harry’s mouth.
Finally, Snape stepped back from him. Panting hard, he tucked his spent member back into his pants while Harry dropped onto all fours, hocking up great mouthfuls of the bitter fluid and spitting it on the ground, trying to get it all out.
“My, God, Severus,” Lucius said with awe in his voice, breathless with excitement. “But that was brilliant!”
“Get out!” Snape spat with sudden venom, still breathing hard. “I am not finished with Potter, and I would like a little more privacy, if you please. I’ve done all I intend to do with an audience.”
“Of course, Severus, of course,” Lucius placated, clearly surprised by Snape’s angry outburst. He hurried out with Avery behind him, who was smiling at the renewed horror he’d seen on Harry’s face at Snape’s words.
Snape slammed the door behind them, turning quickly to Harry, who was back on his feet again, swaying unsteadily.
“Get the fuck away from me!” he bellowed, his lips feeling weirdly numb from the muscle strain they’d just endured, his head throbbing in pain.
“Shut up, Potter,” Snape hissed. Swiftly locking the door, he cast a Muffliato spell, and then started back towards Harry.
Harry was wild again with panic, screaming with rage, striking out blindly until Snape had him pinned against the wall once more, growling in his ear.
“Potter, Stop! I’m not going to hurt you.”
Harry laughed out loud.
“Yeah, I just bet you’re not.”
“Stop fighting me! I’m trying to get you out of here.”
Harry continued to struggle, though he couldn’t throw off the larger man.
“You are injuring yourself further!” Snape snarled, and then finally he shouted, “HARRY!”
Completely surprised by Snape’s use of his first name, Harry did stop then. They stood like that, pressed against each other for a moment, breathing hard. Then Snape relaxed his hold and stepped back. Harry swayed on the spot. Snape reached out a hand to steady him, but Harry flinched away from him, batting at his hands weakly as he staggered into the corner.
“What are you playing at, Snape?” he asked, breathless, holding his aching head with his hands.
“I assure you, this is no game. The Dark Lord returns tomorrow, and if you intend to see the dawning of the next, you will do as I say.”
He was fumbling in the pockets of his robes, cursing under his breath while Harry merely stared at him.
“I don’t trust you, Snape. I’m not as foolish as Dumbledore was about you. I know who you are.”
“You know nothing, Potter,” he spat, now pacing around the room, muttering obscenities.
Harry’s head ached. His body screamed with fatigue. Pushed past endurance, he couldn’t think straight. He didn’t understand what was happening, what Snape was up to, but he resolved not to fall for any of it.
Marching back up to him, Snape held a small bottle cap out to him. Harry simply stared at it.
“Take it, Potter. It’s a Portkey. Press it, and five seconds later it will transport you to the Hogwarts Infirmary. There is no other way out of here now, I’m afraid. You are in no condition to leave here under your own power, and I no longer have a hope of getting us out undetected.”
“No,” Harry responded, refusing to take the object. “I bet it takes me straight to Voldemort. Been there, done that. No thanks.”
“We do not have time for this, Potter. Take it!” Snape insisted, thrusting it at him again.
“No,” Harry refused again, pushing his hand away. “I don’t believe you. You’re lying!” He pointed an accusing finger at Snape. “I don’t know why, but you’re lying.” And then indignantly, “You killed Dumbledore… you tried to kill George, and you just… WHAT YOU JUST DID TO ME!”
Snape growled in frustration, whipped out his wand and yelled, “Expecto Patronum!” as Harry ducked against the wall.
A silvery doe burst from the tip, landing silently on the dirt floor. Her glowing radiance seemed to take up all the space in the small room. Harry squinted at her brilliance. Dumbstruck, he watched as she turned her beautiful head towards him for a moment and then vanished.
“It was you?” He asked in disbelief.
“I swear to you, Potter, I am not trying to trick you. You need to do as I say. We are out of time.”
Harry didn’t know what to think. There was no way that Snape could have known about the doe that led him to the sword. His brain ached. None of this made any sense to him. He stood there for several minutes, trying to puzzle out what Snape’s motivation could possibly be.
“I won’t leave without Ron and Hermione,” he replied at last. “I can’t leave them here.”
Snape stared hard at him for a few moments, then spoke, “They’re already dead, Potter.”
Harry gaped at him, struck dumb, unable even to form words. Hearing Snape’s horrible declaration again and again in his ears like an echo, he tried to comprehend it. They’re dead, Potter… they’re already dead. It was his absolute worst possible fear. His knees suddenly buckled under him.
“No,” he moaned, quaking with fear. “That’s not true. You…you threatened to bring Hermione in here,” he argued desperately. “She can’t be dead. YOU’RE LYING!”
“There is nothing you can do for them anymore, Potter,” he snapped, angry again. “You must come with me.”
“No,” he said in denial, shaking his head. “No.”
Tears rolled down his cheeks as his face screwed up in misery while images of their lifeless bodies, chained to the walls, rushed over him. He thought of Hermione’s parents living out their lives in Australia as Wendell and Monica Wilkins, believing they had no children, never remembering their daughter, not knowing her fate. Then of Mrs. Weasley, crying over her dead children in the drawing room at Grimmauld Place as the Boggart transformed into each of them in turn. Crack, dead Ron crack, dead twins, crack, dead Harry, and Bill’s scarred face from Greyback, and George’s missing ear, and all of it his fault.
“Even if they are… even if… I can’t leave them,” he choked. “I won’t leave them here, not like Mad Eye. I have to take them back.”
Snape cursed loudly.
“Damn you, boy, we are all going to die here!”
“I don’t care,” Harry cried. “I think I might already be dead because this is hell.”
Snape stared at him for long moments while Harry knelt there in shock, refusing to budge. Seeming to come to a decision, he stepped close to Harry, pointing his wand. Harry thought he was going to Stupefy him, but he rapped him hard on the top of his head, instead. Harry felt the cracked egg sensation spreading over him as the Disillusionment charm took effect, rendering him nearly invisible.
“Get up, Potter, and stay close to me,” he ordered as he held out his hand, palm up again. “And take this portkey!”
Harry stared at it for a full minute, and then slowly, he complied. Getting unsteadily to his feet, he scooped the bottle cap out of Snape’s hand. Looking relieved, Snape turned to the door. Harry staggered blindly behind him.
“Do not make a sound, Potter,” he warned him, but Harry had never needed his advice less.
“Alohamora,” he whispered.
The heavy wooden door clicked open, swinging inwards with a creaking of hinges. Snape stepped out into the corridor.
“Which direction are they?” he hissed.
Harry pointed before realizing that Snape couldn’t see him.
“Left,” he whispered back.
Yet they had taken only a few steps in that direction when heavy footfalls could be heard on the stairs behind them. They both wheeled around as Bellatrix came into view, followed by several other Death Eaters. Harry went cold all over with dread at the sight of her. Snape straightened up and stepped forward, shielding Harry behind him.
“Snape,” she called, sounding surprised. “Why, Lucius was just telling me you were here.”
Her eyes traveled to the door they had just exited, that they had foolishly left open, and then slowly back to Snape. She took a step closer, speaking quietly.
“I’m glad to see you’ve finished with him. I have plans for Potter today, you see.”
Snape didn’t reply. They stared at each other for a moment, and then Harry watched as they both raised their wands at the same time, mirroring each other.
Harry ducked down instinctively as Bellatrix screamed, “STUPEFY!” at the same time as Snape yelled, “REDUCTO!”
Their spells collided in midair. Then they were dueling madly.
Spells flew everywhere as others joined the fray. The corridor was alight with streaks of colors, of people screaming incantations, with the crackling of electricity and splintering of wood. They ricocheted off the walls, blowing craters in the dirt floor at Harry’s feet as they missed their target or were deflected. The noise was deafening, the air thick with dust and smoke while Snape fought for his life, greatly outnumbered as more Death Eaters seemed to be streaming down the stairs, stepping over their fallen comrades, taking up the fight.
“PRESS THE PORTKEY!” he bellowed at Harry.
The moment he took to say that, cost him his concentration. He went down in a heap at Harry’s feet as three jets of red light crashed into him.
Numbly, Harry stared at his limp form for a moment. Then he pressed the Portkey. Hesitating for a second, he knelt down and placed it into Snape’s palm, curling his fingers around it. He would not leave without Ron and Hermione.
In another second Snape's fist glowed blue as the portkey activated. Harry heard Bellatrix scream as Snape was jerked out of his grasp, speeding him back to Hogwarts, leaving Harry behind in his own version of hell.

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What it comes down to

Chapter 7. Patronuses and Portkeys