Penance

Title: Penance

Pairing: Snape/Dumbledore

Rating: PG-13

A/N: for the rarepairings month at class=ljuser>href=\"http://www.livejournal.com/userinfo.bml?user=the_pimp_cane\">style=\'text-decoration:none;text-underline:none\'>src=\"Penance_files/image001.gif\" alt=\"[info]\" v:shapes=\"_x0000_i1025\">href=\"http://www.livejournal.com/community/the_pimp_cane/\">the_pimp_cane
and href=\"http://www.livejournal.com/userinfo.bml?user=venivincere\">style=\'text-decoration:none;text-underline:none\'>src=\"Penance_files/image002.gif\" alt=\"[info]\" v:shapes=\"_x0000_i1026\">href=\"http://www.livejournal.com/users/venivincere/\">venivincere
(aka beta grammar whore!*hugs*) post-coital-challenge
found target=\"_blank\">here



Penance

A withered finger stroked gently up the marred forearm, tracing a stark black
relief against the pallid background. Fine black hairs delineated the wrist,
brushing gently along his fingertips. He could feel the vibrations through this
knob of vein-covered bone, could feel as the spasms of orgasm eked their way
out of Severus\'s body, only to be replaced by the
shuddering tremors of loss. A twist and a wrench, and the wrist class=GramE>was pulled out of Dumbledore\'s hand. Snape
turned his face to the wall.

"Albus. I."

Penance, penance for the mark seared into his skin, for the bloody matted in
his hair, nails, fingers, teeth. Penance for every lost child which he had
butchered and laid at the feet of his master. Penace
for the silken glide of Lucius against him, for the
corruption of the teeth marks in his neck. Penance for the teddy bear, armless
and legless, gathering dust in the dungeon. The black
booties, lying forlorn in the corner. The mother lying
rotting over the bodies of her sons. His blood-sodden robes wet against
his form.

"Albus. I. I have done…"


A kiss, oily, smelling faintly of lavender and talc, brushed his lips. class=GramE>The press of an old man against his mouth.

"Hush Severus"

The ghost of the sounds ran over his face, into his ears, eyes, nostrils,
mixing with the crusted blood and mucus and sweat and tears.

"Hush, my boy, I understand."

Understanding, purification, penance, sin, skin, taste,
touch, fire, heat, light, fed through him. Nourished
him. But there was always a catch.

"What do you want from me?" Turning, Severus’s
face was etched in stark relief against the candles.

"Nothing much, my boy." Blood,
coursing through his veins. Penance. A chance
to live, a chance to breathe freely

A wheezy gasp.

"Just your soul."

As a hand wound its way around his balls, Severus
could feel the walls closing in.

Shades of the prison-house begin to close

Upon the growing boy,

But he beholds the light, and whence it flows,

He sees it in his joy.

William Wordsworth - Intimations of immorality from recollection of early
childhood