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White	By : ElectricAndroid Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male Views: 1702 -:- 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
- 1-White
- 1
TITLE: White

RATING: NC-17

PAIRING: Severus/Draco

SUMMARY: Severus pays the price, as a traitor.

WARNING: Dissection as a kink. Disclaimer. I
have never performed a dissection, nor had one performed upon me whilst
conscious. The sounds and feelings are therefore all a product of my own
imagination. Character Death.

NOTES: many thanks to my beta plausive
and switchknife
and venivincere
for encoraging me. I was going to submit this to three-kinks, but since the
focus is so concentrated on this, with the other kinks being peripheral - well
- I'm not sure it applies really.The closest kink I could come to finding was the
one switchknife
suggested: Apotemnophilia: This person is sexually aroused by having
a part of their body amputated either by themselves or someone else. The memory
of the amputation can serve to arouse them for years. It is the act of having
an extremity amputated that is arousing; thus, they have to be awake during the
process.

But really this is just the product of my derranged mind.

WORD COUNT: 1102

White - Severus/Draco Strictly NC-17

The room is perfectly sterile. Spelled and scoured to the best of our
abilities. And I am strapped down, tied to a gurney, waiting.

I can see myself in the mirror above my head. That was part of the deal, that
clear, sharp mirror. I can see myself spread out, angel-hair and dust.

He looks down at me, asking one final time. It is my last chance, my last
chance to back out and say no. No. No, I want to live. His eyes are glassy.

Snape would do anything for me.

I nod.

Scalpel. Shiny-bright in the solid light. The blade glints, pinpoint of lights,
knife to mirror to eyes to mirror to knife.

�Hands or Feet�

�Feet Severus, we have discussed this a thousand times before.�

�I just, I, Draco please. Don�t. I cannot.�

But he can, and he will. We both know it.

�Traitor.� I bark out my harsh, last command. �You can, and you shall.�

They had chosen me to break him. The final betrayal. They never expected that I
would give my own life for their cause. That I would not wish to live without
him. Voldemort knows much, but feels very little. Once their word was given
though, it was in my hands.. Severus�s last sight would be me. This was my
choice

A tear falls on my chest.

�Please Draco. No.�

But he has already started to peel back the first layer of skin. My left foot.

I can see it in the mirror. My blood, welling up, can feel it through my body.
Sharp and slicing, edged and keen and razorfine as the scalpel severs each
nerve. The strange sucking sound of my skin being pulled back.

And the pleasure. Merlin yes, the exquisite borderline pleasure-pain.

�The left is done Draco.�

I can see this in my mirror, can see this and can see his face. My harsh
taskmaster, my lover and my friend. Broken. This is what Voldemort desired,
that bleakness. I wish to console him, I wish tell him it will be alright. But
it cannot be. The least I can do is be the coward that I am, and not stay for
the finale.

�Do the right�

And he knows this. He knows why I do this, why I cannot help but see this as
the final path in our games, in our charade. Bloodletting and tiny tingling
torture, matching tattoos and scars on the palms of our hands, of our chests.

He makes the incision, potion scarred hands not so steady, not so perfect. My
only regret is that Voldemort did not allow him to keep those reticulated
fingers, that I could feel him taking joy, as if I were the ultimate ingredient.

Those fingers, those hands used to cause me so much pleasure. He has flayed me
and revived me with a flick of his wand.

Now do you see why it had to be like this?

I look up, and he has almost finished the right. I feel as though I ought to be
able to move my feet, the nerves still shocked, the pain dulled by spells. They
are there. And yet there is this aching overlay of pleasure, this throb of pain
so deep that no drug could still.

It could be my heart. It�s beating double time.

And as I become aware of my heart, as I arch into is pulsing sensations, as I
wrap myself in the final warp and weft of the beat, I can feel him moving now,
quicker with more assurance, as he flays both my legs. I am lost in a delirium
of pleasure and pain and blood and love and loss, loss of blood, loss of
control, loss of life.

And he cuts onwards and upwards.

We have made a deal. A mad and frightful dance of a deal. He will leave my
face, my eyes, my cock. They will stand sentinel over a dissected, desiccated monument
to our infalibity.

We lost. And now we are paying the price.

I can feel his hands take their time, take their pleasure, quick cut and long
smooth slow strokes, each muscle, each nerve lifted out, treated separately,
reverently.

Lying in a tray. Building up the new, dead, Draco Malfoy.

And my heart still beats, still double time and throbbing in my ears.

Euphoria. The sounds and the squelch and the soft ministration of Severus�s
hands as he reaches up inside me, more person and more frantic and more fluid
than I have ever know him to be before. I shout, this sensation, this pleasure.

With his bare hands, he splits my ribcage apart.

And it tears, and it burned and its tears and I�m in tears and I�m ecstatic and
I�m over the moon with pain and lust and love and redemption and cowardice and
the thrumming beat of my heart racing double-time, triple-time, so fast that I
think it will explode.

I look up into the mirror.

I am laying there. Bones. Sinew.

I can see inside me.

And it is beautiful.

I cannot spare the breath to ask him to move, and yet he does.

And their it lies.

Beating.

Throbbing.

My heart.

A tear drops, and I feel it burn through to the skin of my back, burning me
from the outside in. And I can see Severus, coming down from his high, coming
down from practicing his craft, realizing that this is it. The end.

I watch it beat.

After a second and an eon, he is above me, above my mirror. I feel the droplets
and I stare into his eyes.

Black.

He places a kiss upon my lips. My nirvana.

Stepping back, he allows me to see my heart. Throbbing in its palanquin of
membranes and bones. It is slowing.

He shines the scalpel in the light.

Such solid, heavy light.

He picks up my heart, I can feel his hand around it, can feel where it has always
held me.

I see my heart in the mirror in his hands.

There is no place I would rather it be.

The scalpel glints, but he does not cry this time.

I can see his eyes in the mirror.

The solid scalpel, in the heavy light.

I can see him push it through, into my heart.

My vision tunnels.

White.

The last noise I heard was the thump of Severus�s body.

We had planned it.

White.
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