Keeper of the Superfluous Es! (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
themostepotente) wrote2004-01-10 12:59 am
themostepotente) wrote2004-01-10 12:59 am
Ex Post Facto (Snape/Harry -- NC-17)
My gift to ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
mousewrites
Title: Ex Post Facto
Pairing: SS/HP, implied LM/HP
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Harry learns the true values of patience and time. (Beware the use of the time-turner! When you absolutely, positively have to come multiple times. Accept no substitutes!)
Kinks: Non con, chan (Harry is 17), piercings, toys
Disclaimer: Oh, so not mine. This market's been cornered.
Additional comments found here!
Ex Post Facto: Latin; after the fact, retroactive.
Professor Severus Snape sat at his desk, perusing the pages of the Daily Prophet for anything newsworthy. With only twenty minutes to go before his remedial Potions lesson with Potter, he needed this downtime to relax. In front of him sat a clear bottle, the label reading:
Artemisia Absinthium, Dies Lunæ MDXLIX
Professor Snape could brew absinthe in his sleep, but similar to masturbation, enjoyment of this hobby was savoured best from the hands of another. Over the years, his casual addiction had become full-blown. He’d built up a tolerance to and an acquired taste for the noxious green aqua vitae, privately referred to as an aperitif. Snape drank his absinthe au naturel, with no sweetening to speak of; something had to account for the vitriolic blood that coursed through his veins.
After Harry Potter's first year, the six that followed had proved no better, especially where the brat's manners were concerned. The bespectacled teen thought nothing of barging in on Snape, disturbing what semblance of peace the Potions Master had. Startled, Snape jumped from his skin, his upper lip curling into a most distressing sneer. But for whom?
”Potter!” Snape spat. “I thought I told you six pm sharp, not a minute before and not a minute after. Here it is ten minutes before the hour, and there you stand. Well?”
Snape’s fathomless eyes narrowed dangerously, awaiting an explanation.
”Just thought we’d get a jump on things, sir”, Harry offered, as if by hurrying matters along he was doing them both a favour.
”Did you, now?” Snape countered. “How very thoughtful of you, Potter. No matter - with skills as poor as yours an extra ten minutes wouldn’t hurt. Your graduating class has proved the sorriest to date. Truly, I weep for the future.”
Harry cast Snape a baleful glare, opting for silence.
”We’ll be going down below for our next lesson. The atmospheric conditions are more favourable in the dungeon’s catacombs”, Snape advised.
Reaching into a desk drawer, Snape procured an item and slipped it into the pocket of his robes, obscuring it quickly from Harry's view.
”The catacombs, sir? Won’t they be terribly cold this time of year?” Harry asked, puzzled. “I’ll need thicker robes.”
”Such a pity, Potter. I’m on a tight schedule - I haven’t time to wait as you dally. You’ll just have to suffer.”
Snape was absolutely beside himself with glee. He knew that Potter had an aversion to cold; Snape bore witness to this during the particularly brisk months of the quidditch season.
”Evanesco.”
With a flick of Snape’s wand, what lingered of the evidence was no more.
”What was that you just vanished, sir?” Harry inquired
”None of your business, Potter. Ask no more questions on the matter, and we may just survive the evening. Now MOVE!”
Wordlessly, Harry followed Snape down several stone spiral staircases, until they stepped out into an antechamber illuminated by torchlight. The passage behind them sealed, entombing them at the utterance of a spell that Harry did not recognise.
Once inside, Harry could see no indication that anyone had been there for some time, let alone any indication of Potions class. He’d been tricked. Harry backed up against a wall while Snape advanced on him. He first became aware of a pair of hands not belonging to Snape before several more took hold; four more to be exact, and with no discernible point of origin. Disembodied and magically imbued.
”I see that you’ve acquainted yourself with *The Hands of His Greatest Deeds*, or *The Helping Hands*, as I like to call them”, Snape stated. “Each pair once belonged to a prominent Death Eater, before his demise. In fact, you’d be tickled to know that pair in particular...” Snape further explained, indicating the hands at Harry’s groin, “belonged to the brother of that wretched godfather of yours. You know him better as Regulus Black. Small world, isn’t it, Potter?”
”Why?” Harry asked. “Why are you doing this?” He struggled against his unusual restraints, finding only unwanted touches and tightening grips from rotted fingers.
”Because I can - an excuse you yourself have used on occasion. You’ll find that I deviate from the norm and bend the rules to suit my own selfish needs. You mock me, and I counter by mirroring your behaviour. In short, I’m beating you at your own game, Potter, with your own moves.”
”Diffindo!” Snape cast the spell with a firm wrist movement at Harry. The boy’s clothes were reduced to tatters, nonchalantly pushed away by the pair of hands perched on his shoulders. His pants and boxers fell on their own, leaving him modestly bared before Snape’s roving eye.
Before disrobing himself, Snape removed the item he had earlier retrieved from his desk drawer. Snape stepped out of the robes that had pooled at his feet, brazenly nude with his cock swinging pendulously between his thighs.
”Do you know what this is, Potter?” Snape asked, dangling the item by its chain. Harry had seen it before his third year. It was a time turner; Hermione had used one so that she could double her classload. They had also used it to save Sirius and Buckbeak from capture.
”It’s a time turner”, Harry answered, teeth chattering from the cold draughts.
”Precisely. You will be given seven days. Your obedience will be linked to your length of stay. Should you please me sufficiently, all things will proceed as they should”, Snape explained.
”And if I displease you?” Harry asked, a slight stutter to his words.
”So glad you asked, Potter. I turn back the hands of time one full day. Dissatisfy me, and you may find yourself down here for what may seem the duration of Christmas break. The Dark Lord will have been a holiday by comparison when I’m through with you.”
”Won’t we run into our former selves?” Harry asked sardonically.
”A given, Potter. Any semi-educated fool knows the same matter cannot occupy the same space. The results would be...messy. Let us hope, for your sake that this is incentive enough.”
This was merely a scare tactic for Snape - he had another use in mind for the time turner.
Snape turned from the room, leaving Harry to fend off the chill. His body felt achy, and each time he started to slouch, the Hands straightened his posture. There was no getting comfortable, and the few times he dozed off, his cheeks were slapped.
”Leave me alone!” Harry bellowed.
The icy silence was broken by Snape’s return. “They hearken only to me or any other in service to the Dark Lord who does not walk the path that is straight and narrow. Your attempts at escape will prove futile.”
The debris in the air had dirtied his lenses, but there was no mistaking the bottle of Ogden’s Old Firewhiskey in Snape’s hands. “Are we going to get pissed and sing Christmas carols or something?” Harry snorted.
”Hardly, Potter. However, I’m not at all adverse to some holiday cheer.”
Snape immediately crossed the room to Harry, carrying what appeared to be sewing needles and plastic tubing. He set them on a wooden workhorse, seizing Harry roughly by the chin. Snape’s prick met with Harry’s in an unscrupulous graze.
”I’ve often wondered what a prudish boy would look like pierced.”
Snape uncurled his fingers, three titanium rings in his hand.
"NO!" Harry protested vehemently, temper ablaze.
”No speculation is necessary as to their placement”, Snape sneered. ”STEADY HIM!” Snape barked at his disembodied minions.
No amount of struggle would free Harry from his plight, and he was only vaguely aware of the pricking of each nipple, already taut from the cold air. Each threaded ring was closed with a hematite bell that chimed singsong with the slightest movement. Snape eyed Harry’s cock, which curved upward slightly with an approving smile. Reaching for the receiving tube, he gently inserted it into Harry’s urethra, thumb massaging the vein on the underside that led to the spongy head. Snape couldn't help but stroke Harry’s shaft, slowly and methodically, before sliding the needle inside. Quick was Snape’s eye, but quicker still was his hand, the needle soon surfacing the right side of Harry’s cock. This too was quickly closed with a ring, a shiny Prince Albert complimentary. Snape stepped back to admire his handiwork, uncapping the bottle of Firewhiskey. Very callously he doused Harry’s new piercings with the alcohol. Harry winced in pain, waiting for the burning to subside.
”That should combat the infection quite nicely”, Snape teased. ”You wear them well, Potter. Consider that high praise from me”, he continued.
Again he stepped from the room, returning only with the evening’s meal. Rotting fingers fed him, the taste of death and decay sickening him to retch. The foul taste lingered until morning. Nothing was fouler, however, than probing, flesh-ridden fingers exploring his tightness to coax him from slumber.
********************************************
Morning came and went with still no sign of Snape. Harry fell into a dreamless sleep, his head lowered, chin to his chest.
The torches on either side of him flickered. The draught of a passerby? His tensed state of relaxation was interrupted by a hand taking hold of his sooty locks, levelling gazes with Snape. Harry was looking worse for the wear, his colouring a sickly green.
”What’s the matter, Potter?” Snape cooed into his ear. “Not enjoying your stay at Chez Snape?”
Harry’s only recourse was to spit in Snape’s face, and it brought him only mild satisfaction if any at all.
”You’re going to pay for that, Potter. A little at a time”, Snape taunted. “Lower him to his knees and bind him sufficiently!”
The Hands obeyed, settling him before Snape, crisscrossing Harry’s hands at the wrists behind his back. Opening his robes, Snape brushed the head of his cock against Harry’s lips, daubing them with precome.
”Open wide and suck, boy”, Snape purred. And don’t even think about biting down, or I’ll have those wrists of yours snapped like twigs.”
Harry was momentarily frozen. When finally he glanced up at Snape, the proximity between them was almost dizzying. Deductive reasoning assured him that this would soon be over upon cooperation.
Like a boy fussing over vegetables, Harry took Snape’s cock into his mouth very timidly, suckling gently. Gripping Harry just behind his ears, Snape assisted in the boy’s ministrations, guiding him as he bucked his hips to meet with Harry’s parted lips. He traced the indentation of Harry’s lightning-shaped scar with the fleshy pad of his thumb.
Harry’s lenses began to steam, but their feel was still cool upon Snape’s stomach with each retreating glimpse of his cock. The sharpened bridge-piece had left a half-mooned cut just above the base. Tiny trickles of crimson were unknowingly lapped from the saliva-slicked shaft.
Snape was blissfully entranced at Harry’s amateur enthusiasm, burying his cock to the hilt until he felt the scraping of incisors against his painfully throbbing prick. Snape grabbed Harry by the neck, squeezing, cutting off his air supply.
”Never, under any circumstances, ever do that again! Do you fucking understand me, Potter?” Snape spat.
Harry nodded, eager to fill his lungs with air again. The bluish tinge to his face returned to normal, and he began again, this time sucking more forcefully.
For a time it was heavenly, but Snape’s climax was building much too quickly. Snape found himself desperately trying to pry young Potter from his deathgrip. When actions would not suffice, he threatened verbally.
”Relent, boy! Pace yourself!”
Harry did not heed Snape’s words. They only made him want to rip the climax from Snape with premature brutality.
The words “I’m not ready” echoed in Harry’s ears with grim satisfaction. When he tried to pull away, Snape held him there, spraying the back of Harry’s throat with his hot seed.
”You will swallow every last drop for your insolence, boy!” Snape snarled in a fit of rage.
His mouth full, Harry shook his head violently to voice his silent repulsion. Forcing Harry’s head back, Snape pinched the boy’s nose, forcing the come to slide down the back of his throat with an unpalatable shudder. He left Harry coughing and sputtering, weakly attempting to force it up with a probing finger.
The Hands took hold of Harry once more, bringing him to his feet. From out of Snape’s robes came a most menacing device -the *Gates of Hell*. Several steel rings lined a roughened leather backing. Seizing Harry’s cock, Snape outfitted his captive, imprisoning the boy’s shaft. Any movement, however slight, would inflict torment upon his cock at the first sign of an erection. The Hands would see to this. This, however, was not to be the worst of Harry’s worries.
”Frigidis”, Snape purred, wand pointed at Harry.
The temperature plummeted drastically, but even the chilly surroundings could not compare to Snape’s wintry glibness.
The rings in both Harry’s nipples tingled painfully, but it was the ladder of steel, frosted circlets around his shaft, that hummed excruciatingly.
Harry whimpered in agony as the torches went out, Snape’s silky condescension and the sound of cracking glass his only guides in the darkness.
Snape had laid the time turner on its side rather than turning the hourglass upside down. This had stopped time around them, rather than turning it back.
”I’m going to give you some time to think about the little stunt you pulled today, Potter. You will do so without the benefit of light and warmth. And without touch.”
He barked another order and the Hands maintained their grip but nothing further. Sensory deprivation. Retreating footfalls signalled his solitude.
Tremulous aching and venomous wishing and the icy tinged words, “I HATE YOU!” before all fell silent.
********************************************
It was the longest stretch of isolation since his captivity.
Cold. Alone. Afraid.
There was fearful anger welling up inside him, but the humanitarian in Harry Potter felt pity for Severus Snape.
Embittered. Envenomed. Enamoured.
Tears streaked his smudged cheeks, falling silently in the dread and despair of the subdungeons. A slim finger lifted his chin, and watery eyes once again fell prey to fathomless depths. Harry’s tears were dried by the backs of Snape’s fingers, one lingering on the lip of his chin. For a brief moment, both were torn between revulsion and lust.
”Lumos inflamaré”, Snape hissed, lighting the torches.
It was then that Harry was able to make out not one but *two* bulges beneath Snape’s robes. Harry’s heart was thumping so madly in his chest that he was almost certain Snape could hear it. Snape slinked from his robes, taking with him a container of lube. Just above his own cock was another, identical in size. He was wearing a strap-on.
”Turn him”, Snape commanded the Hands softly.
Snape palmed the small of Harry’s back, forcing him to arch, catlike. He trailed a finger lightly down Harry’s spine, stopping just before the curvature of his buttocks.
”Whores should be neatly shaven”, Snape cooed, running the tip of his wand down the cleft of Harry’s arse. ”Deplicio.”
Snape smiled approvingly at the smoothness, slipping his arms around Harry’s slim waist. The heads of both cocks bobbed teasingly against Harry’s cheeks as Snape’s hands sought out every inch of the boy’s physique. Snape could not control the urge to grind his muscled prick against Harry. Each time the boy recoiled, it left him desperate and wanting. The Potions Master had threaded his index fingers through the rings in Harry’s dusky nipples, twisting them to suit his own imposing needs. Selfish necessity, not the chill of air, had Harry quivering and goosepimpled. Harry soon joined Snape in their illicit tango, leading the dance rather than following. Freeing one hand, Snape wedged it in between their bodies, lubing the dildo amply before sliding it playfully between Harry’s buttocks.
”Don’t I get *your* cock?”, Harry asked boldly.
”You haven’t earned my cock, boy. Learn to crawl before you learn to walk. Master yourself”, Snape told him.
Snape encircled Harry’s tight entrance with a finger still freshly lubed. One knuckle at a time, slowly, weaning the tension from his sphincter muscles. A second finger followed, a third, and then the dildo, one satisfying inch at a time. Harry’s cock stiffened at the intrusion, just shy of Snape’s impressive length. He slammed back into Snape powerfully, overwrought with a hunger no mere morsel could satiate.
”Fuck me. Fuck me soft and tender. Fuck me hard and long. Whichever way. Just fuck me.”
Snape was consumed by several of the seven deadly sins, furiously inclined to strip the boy of his purity and his self-righteousness. Pounding Harry’s arse, Snape cruelly withdrew before the onslaught of waves washed over Harry.
He left Harry breathless, corrupted, and craving, allowing him precious few moments to catch his breath, chest heaving.
The sound of breaking glass filled his ears once more, and briefly Harry envisioned Snape purging him of his sins through bloodletting. The thought, though curdling, titillated him. But this was not to be. Not yet.
”Release your upper grip on him”, Snape charged.
The Hands let go, and Harry’s body grew slack in their absence, physically spent.
Snape was quick to steady him, supporting Harry with his own weight.
”Extend your arms, boy. Palms up. Fingers spread.”
Weakly, Harry obeyed, puzzled at Snape’s request.
Into each upturned palm Snape deposited the sands of time, the granules comforting to the touch. Harry’s toes curled at the feel, wishing he were upon a sandy beach.
”Curl your fingertips around the mounds, and turn your palms downward, boy”, Snape ordered. “Time is literally in your hands. Make use of it as you will.”
Resting his bottom lip on Harry’s earlobe, Snape whispered breathily into Harry’s ear. ”Beg, and it shall be yours.”
Harry’s arms trembled, heavy with the burden of keeping them perfectly parallel.
”Give me your cock...Sir. Gods, please just give it to me”, Harry pleaded.
Mouth agape and eyes closed, Harry shuddered against Snape’s pressing hardness, and in doing so sand crystals seeped through the cracks in his fingers. It was far too momentary to splinter their likenesses, but strangely Harry heard first Snape’s words and then his own.
Lubing himself adequately, Snape slid his cock inside, several inches left outside. Snape spared no mercy on Harry, stretching him with each jackhammering plunge into his depths. Harry buried his fingernails in his palms to prevent further seepage, but now and again granules escaped and time fragments repeated. Harry’s arms seesawed, and there was no telling how long he could keep up with Snape’s poundings. The tip of Snape’s cock hugged every curve inside Harry until it struck his prostate, laying featherlight kiss upon kiss upon it. Harry was so close, arms flailing as if he meant to take flight; Snape was just as close, and just as the Potions Master was about explode, Harry loosened his grip allowing the crystals their freefall. It began again, every nuance of their coupling recurring.
Nothing had ever felt so damned good. Not the feeling of leaving the Dursleys behind at start of term. Not the winning spirit that accompanied quidditch victories. Not the friendships of Ron and Hermione. They all paled in comparison. This fuck he had to savour over and over again.
When Harry was finally ready, he allowed the exquisite friction of Snape’s prick to hurry them into an orgasmic abyss, but the release of the grains acted as a safety net. The two of them climaxed multiple times before the last of the hourglass silica fell. Harry’s glasses had strayed from behind an ear, dangling helplessly from the other. Neither spoke, basking in each another’s afterglow. Their bodies were sweat-soaked and come-stained, opalescent. Their aftershocks had ricocheted off the fissures in time surrounding them. They remained in their embrace with Harry helixed around his lover, until sweeping calm cradled Harry unconscious.
********************************************
The following day, which was to be the day of Harry’s release, Snape found Harry missing. Snape’s heart bottomed into his shoes, only to be startled by the unmistakable voice of Lucius Malfoy.
”I thought I told you my toy chest was off limits, Severus? And yet you insist upon the one toy I haven’t tired of. Young Mr. Potter is still quite shiny and new.”
"How ever did you find me, old friend?" Snape asked contemptuously.
"I followed your trail of breadcrumbs, Severus. You both stink of...well, words a gentleman would not utter in public", Lucius replied, wrinkling his nose distastefully. "Mr. Potter and I have been intimately acquainted now for months. Payment, perhaps, for past transgressions?"
Keeping Harry at bay with his cane, Lucius flashed his old school chum a wintry smile.
”Why not ask Potter the man of his choosing? Or are you afraid, Lucius, that he will choose me in your stead?”
”Nonsense, Severus. I have so much more to offer him.”
Ramming the head of his cane into Harry’s solar plexus, Lucius growled, “Well?”
Bitten by the bug that was the Stockholm Syndrome, Harry made his way over to the Potions Master, attaching himself rather fixedly to Snape’s leg.
Snape had had his *just desserts*. He had something money could never buy. He had Harry, body and soul.
”The Gods giveth and the Gods taketh away, Lucius”, Snape laughed.
”So mote it be, Severus, but this is far from over”, Lucius snarled.
”You never were one to lose graciously”, Snape volunteered.
After Lucius had departed, Snape offered his ring to Harry. Harry took Snape’s graceful hand in his, placing a chaste kiss upon the diamond-etched *S* inlaid with gold filigree. The *S* temporarily took the shape of a lightning bolt, hairpin curves straightening, sealing their bond.
********************************************
The day before the school-wide return, Harry sat across from Snape, a bottle between them.
”How did you know, Sir? How did you know I would go to you?” Harry asked curiously.
”Like it or not, Potter, I have an obligation to you like no other. We are bound by kismet, you and I. There are things learned that can never be unlearned. Choices made than can never be unmade. And fates sealed that can never be unbroken. We will always be drawn to one another like moth to flame.”
Harry watched Snape partake of his *other* obsession, quickly putting two and two together from days earlier. This had been what Snape had hoped to conceal.
Snape took the bottle in his hand, uncorking it. He drank until his sunken cheeks were full, pulling Harry towards him by the collar of his robe. Brutally mashing his lips to Harry’s, he forced the absinthe into the boy’s mouth with his tongue. Snape’s thumbs caressed Harry’s throat as he swallowed. A droplet lingered when their lips parted before rolling down Harry’s chin.
”Whether for good or for ill, we are in this together. Welcome to my world...Harry.”
Fin
mousewritesTitle: Ex Post Facto
Pairing: SS/HP, implied LM/HP
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Harry learns the true values of patience and time. (Beware the use of the time-turner! When you absolutely, positively have to come multiple times. Accept no substitutes!)
Kinks: Non con, chan (Harry is 17), piercings, toys
Disclaimer: Oh, so not mine. This market's been cornered.
Additional comments found here!
Ex Post Facto: Latin; after the fact, retroactive.
Professor Severus Snape sat at his desk, perusing the pages of the Daily Prophet for anything newsworthy. With only twenty minutes to go before his remedial Potions lesson with Potter, he needed this downtime to relax. In front of him sat a clear bottle, the label reading:
Professor Snape could brew absinthe in his sleep, but similar to masturbation, enjoyment of this hobby was savoured best from the hands of another. Over the years, his casual addiction had become full-blown. He’d built up a tolerance to and an acquired taste for the noxious green aqua vitae, privately referred to as an aperitif. Snape drank his absinthe au naturel, with no sweetening to speak of; something had to account for the vitriolic blood that coursed through his veins.
After Harry Potter's first year, the six that followed had proved no better, especially where the brat's manners were concerned. The bespectacled teen thought nothing of barging in on Snape, disturbing what semblance of peace the Potions Master had. Startled, Snape jumped from his skin, his upper lip curling into a most distressing sneer. But for whom?
”Potter!” Snape spat. “I thought I told you six pm sharp, not a minute before and not a minute after. Here it is ten minutes before the hour, and there you stand. Well?”
Snape’s fathomless eyes narrowed dangerously, awaiting an explanation.
”Just thought we’d get a jump on things, sir”, Harry offered, as if by hurrying matters along he was doing them both a favour.
”Did you, now?” Snape countered. “How very thoughtful of you, Potter. No matter - with skills as poor as yours an extra ten minutes wouldn’t hurt. Your graduating class has proved the sorriest to date. Truly, I weep for the future.”
Harry cast Snape a baleful glare, opting for silence.
”We’ll be going down below for our next lesson. The atmospheric conditions are more favourable in the dungeon’s catacombs”, Snape advised.
Reaching into a desk drawer, Snape procured an item and slipped it into the pocket of his robes, obscuring it quickly from Harry's view.
”The catacombs, sir? Won’t they be terribly cold this time of year?” Harry asked, puzzled. “I’ll need thicker robes.”
”Such a pity, Potter. I’m on a tight schedule - I haven’t time to wait as you dally. You’ll just have to suffer.”
Snape was absolutely beside himself with glee. He knew that Potter had an aversion to cold; Snape bore witness to this during the particularly brisk months of the quidditch season.
”Evanesco.”
With a flick of Snape’s wand, what lingered of the evidence was no more.
”What was that you just vanished, sir?” Harry inquired
”None of your business, Potter. Ask no more questions on the matter, and we may just survive the evening. Now MOVE!”
Wordlessly, Harry followed Snape down several stone spiral staircases, until they stepped out into an antechamber illuminated by torchlight. The passage behind them sealed, entombing them at the utterance of a spell that Harry did not recognise.
Once inside, Harry could see no indication that anyone had been there for some time, let alone any indication of Potions class. He’d been tricked. Harry backed up against a wall while Snape advanced on him. He first became aware of a pair of hands not belonging to Snape before several more took hold; four more to be exact, and with no discernible point of origin. Disembodied and magically imbued.
”I see that you’ve acquainted yourself with *The Hands of His Greatest Deeds*, or *The Helping Hands*, as I like to call them”, Snape stated. “Each pair once belonged to a prominent Death Eater, before his demise. In fact, you’d be tickled to know that pair in particular...” Snape further explained, indicating the hands at Harry’s groin, “belonged to the brother of that wretched godfather of yours. You know him better as Regulus Black. Small world, isn’t it, Potter?”
”Why?” Harry asked. “Why are you doing this?” He struggled against his unusual restraints, finding only unwanted touches and tightening grips from rotted fingers.
”Because I can - an excuse you yourself have used on occasion. You’ll find that I deviate from the norm and bend the rules to suit my own selfish needs. You mock me, and I counter by mirroring your behaviour. In short, I’m beating you at your own game, Potter, with your own moves.”
”Diffindo!” Snape cast the spell with a firm wrist movement at Harry. The boy’s clothes were reduced to tatters, nonchalantly pushed away by the pair of hands perched on his shoulders. His pants and boxers fell on their own, leaving him modestly bared before Snape’s roving eye.
Before disrobing himself, Snape removed the item he had earlier retrieved from his desk drawer. Snape stepped out of the robes that had pooled at his feet, brazenly nude with his cock swinging pendulously between his thighs.
”Do you know what this is, Potter?” Snape asked, dangling the item by its chain. Harry had seen it before his third year. It was a time turner; Hermione had used one so that she could double her classload. They had also used it to save Sirius and Buckbeak from capture.
”It’s a time turner”, Harry answered, teeth chattering from the cold draughts.
”Precisely. You will be given seven days. Your obedience will be linked to your length of stay. Should you please me sufficiently, all things will proceed as they should”, Snape explained.
”And if I displease you?” Harry asked, a slight stutter to his words.
”So glad you asked, Potter. I turn back the hands of time one full day. Dissatisfy me, and you may find yourself down here for what may seem the duration of Christmas break. The Dark Lord will have been a holiday by comparison when I’m through with you.”
”Won’t we run into our former selves?” Harry asked sardonically.
”A given, Potter. Any semi-educated fool knows the same matter cannot occupy the same space. The results would be...messy. Let us hope, for your sake that this is incentive enough.”
This was merely a scare tactic for Snape - he had another use in mind for the time turner.
Snape turned from the room, leaving Harry to fend off the chill. His body felt achy, and each time he started to slouch, the Hands straightened his posture. There was no getting comfortable, and the few times he dozed off, his cheeks were slapped.
”Leave me alone!” Harry bellowed.
The icy silence was broken by Snape’s return. “They hearken only to me or any other in service to the Dark Lord who does not walk the path that is straight and narrow. Your attempts at escape will prove futile.”
The debris in the air had dirtied his lenses, but there was no mistaking the bottle of Ogden’s Old Firewhiskey in Snape’s hands. “Are we going to get pissed and sing Christmas carols or something?” Harry snorted.
”Hardly, Potter. However, I’m not at all adverse to some holiday cheer.”
Snape immediately crossed the room to Harry, carrying what appeared to be sewing needles and plastic tubing. He set them on a wooden workhorse, seizing Harry roughly by the chin. Snape’s prick met with Harry’s in an unscrupulous graze.
”I’ve often wondered what a prudish boy would look like pierced.”
Snape uncurled his fingers, three titanium rings in his hand.
"NO!" Harry protested vehemently, temper ablaze.
”No speculation is necessary as to their placement”, Snape sneered. ”STEADY HIM!” Snape barked at his disembodied minions.
No amount of struggle would free Harry from his plight, and he was only vaguely aware of the pricking of each nipple, already taut from the cold air. Each threaded ring was closed with a hematite bell that chimed singsong with the slightest movement. Snape eyed Harry’s cock, which curved upward slightly with an approving smile. Reaching for the receiving tube, he gently inserted it into Harry’s urethra, thumb massaging the vein on the underside that led to the spongy head. Snape couldn't help but stroke Harry’s shaft, slowly and methodically, before sliding the needle inside. Quick was Snape’s eye, but quicker still was his hand, the needle soon surfacing the right side of Harry’s cock. This too was quickly closed with a ring, a shiny Prince Albert complimentary. Snape stepped back to admire his handiwork, uncapping the bottle of Firewhiskey. Very callously he doused Harry’s new piercings with the alcohol. Harry winced in pain, waiting for the burning to subside.
”That should combat the infection quite nicely”, Snape teased. ”You wear them well, Potter. Consider that high praise from me”, he continued.
Again he stepped from the room, returning only with the evening’s meal. Rotting fingers fed him, the taste of death and decay sickening him to retch. The foul taste lingered until morning. Nothing was fouler, however, than probing, flesh-ridden fingers exploring his tightness to coax him from slumber.
********************************************
Morning came and went with still no sign of Snape. Harry fell into a dreamless sleep, his head lowered, chin to his chest.
The torches on either side of him flickered. The draught of a passerby? His tensed state of relaxation was interrupted by a hand taking hold of his sooty locks, levelling gazes with Snape. Harry was looking worse for the wear, his colouring a sickly green.
”What’s the matter, Potter?” Snape cooed into his ear. “Not enjoying your stay at Chez Snape?”
Harry’s only recourse was to spit in Snape’s face, and it brought him only mild satisfaction if any at all.
”You’re going to pay for that, Potter. A little at a time”, Snape taunted. “Lower him to his knees and bind him sufficiently!”
The Hands obeyed, settling him before Snape, crisscrossing Harry’s hands at the wrists behind his back. Opening his robes, Snape brushed the head of his cock against Harry’s lips, daubing them with precome.
”Open wide and suck, boy”, Snape purred. And don’t even think about biting down, or I’ll have those wrists of yours snapped like twigs.”
Harry was momentarily frozen. When finally he glanced up at Snape, the proximity between them was almost dizzying. Deductive reasoning assured him that this would soon be over upon cooperation.
Like a boy fussing over vegetables, Harry took Snape’s cock into his mouth very timidly, suckling gently. Gripping Harry just behind his ears, Snape assisted in the boy’s ministrations, guiding him as he bucked his hips to meet with Harry’s parted lips. He traced the indentation of Harry’s lightning-shaped scar with the fleshy pad of his thumb.
Harry’s lenses began to steam, but their feel was still cool upon Snape’s stomach with each retreating glimpse of his cock. The sharpened bridge-piece had left a half-mooned cut just above the base. Tiny trickles of crimson were unknowingly lapped from the saliva-slicked shaft.
Snape was blissfully entranced at Harry’s amateur enthusiasm, burying his cock to the hilt until he felt the scraping of incisors against his painfully throbbing prick. Snape grabbed Harry by the neck, squeezing, cutting off his air supply.
”Never, under any circumstances, ever do that again! Do you fucking understand me, Potter?” Snape spat.
Harry nodded, eager to fill his lungs with air again. The bluish tinge to his face returned to normal, and he began again, this time sucking more forcefully.
For a time it was heavenly, but Snape’s climax was building much too quickly. Snape found himself desperately trying to pry young Potter from his deathgrip. When actions would not suffice, he threatened verbally.
”Relent, boy! Pace yourself!”
Harry did not heed Snape’s words. They only made him want to rip the climax from Snape with premature brutality.
The words “I’m not ready” echoed in Harry’s ears with grim satisfaction. When he tried to pull away, Snape held him there, spraying the back of Harry’s throat with his hot seed.
”You will swallow every last drop for your insolence, boy!” Snape snarled in a fit of rage.
His mouth full, Harry shook his head violently to voice his silent repulsion. Forcing Harry’s head back, Snape pinched the boy’s nose, forcing the come to slide down the back of his throat with an unpalatable shudder. He left Harry coughing and sputtering, weakly attempting to force it up with a probing finger.
The Hands took hold of Harry once more, bringing him to his feet. From out of Snape’s robes came a most menacing device -the *Gates of Hell*. Several steel rings lined a roughened leather backing. Seizing Harry’s cock, Snape outfitted his captive, imprisoning the boy’s shaft. Any movement, however slight, would inflict torment upon his cock at the first sign of an erection. The Hands would see to this. This, however, was not to be the worst of Harry’s worries.
”Frigidis”, Snape purred, wand pointed at Harry.
The temperature plummeted drastically, but even the chilly surroundings could not compare to Snape’s wintry glibness.
The rings in both Harry’s nipples tingled painfully, but it was the ladder of steel, frosted circlets around his shaft, that hummed excruciatingly.
Harry whimpered in agony as the torches went out, Snape’s silky condescension and the sound of cracking glass his only guides in the darkness.
Snape had laid the time turner on its side rather than turning the hourglass upside down. This had stopped time around them, rather than turning it back.
”I’m going to give you some time to think about the little stunt you pulled today, Potter. You will do so without the benefit of light and warmth. And without touch.”
He barked another order and the Hands maintained their grip but nothing further. Sensory deprivation. Retreating footfalls signalled his solitude.
Tremulous aching and venomous wishing and the icy tinged words, “I HATE YOU!” before all fell silent.
********************************************
It was the longest stretch of isolation since his captivity.
Cold. Alone. Afraid.
There was fearful anger welling up inside him, but the humanitarian in Harry Potter felt pity for Severus Snape.
Embittered. Envenomed. Enamoured.
Tears streaked his smudged cheeks, falling silently in the dread and despair of the subdungeons. A slim finger lifted his chin, and watery eyes once again fell prey to fathomless depths. Harry’s tears were dried by the backs of Snape’s fingers, one lingering on the lip of his chin. For a brief moment, both were torn between revulsion and lust.
”Lumos inflamaré”, Snape hissed, lighting the torches.
It was then that Harry was able to make out not one but *two* bulges beneath Snape’s robes. Harry’s heart was thumping so madly in his chest that he was almost certain Snape could hear it. Snape slinked from his robes, taking with him a container of lube. Just above his own cock was another, identical in size. He was wearing a strap-on.
”Turn him”, Snape commanded the Hands softly.
Snape palmed the small of Harry’s back, forcing him to arch, catlike. He trailed a finger lightly down Harry’s spine, stopping just before the curvature of his buttocks.
”Whores should be neatly shaven”, Snape cooed, running the tip of his wand down the cleft of Harry’s arse. ”Deplicio.”
Snape smiled approvingly at the smoothness, slipping his arms around Harry’s slim waist. The heads of both cocks bobbed teasingly against Harry’s cheeks as Snape’s hands sought out every inch of the boy’s physique. Snape could not control the urge to grind his muscled prick against Harry. Each time the boy recoiled, it left him desperate and wanting. The Potions Master had threaded his index fingers through the rings in Harry’s dusky nipples, twisting them to suit his own imposing needs. Selfish necessity, not the chill of air, had Harry quivering and goosepimpled. Harry soon joined Snape in their illicit tango, leading the dance rather than following. Freeing one hand, Snape wedged it in between their bodies, lubing the dildo amply before sliding it playfully between Harry’s buttocks.
”Don’t I get *your* cock?”, Harry asked boldly.
”You haven’t earned my cock, boy. Learn to crawl before you learn to walk. Master yourself”, Snape told him.
Snape encircled Harry’s tight entrance with a finger still freshly lubed. One knuckle at a time, slowly, weaning the tension from his sphincter muscles. A second finger followed, a third, and then the dildo, one satisfying inch at a time. Harry’s cock stiffened at the intrusion, just shy of Snape’s impressive length. He slammed back into Snape powerfully, overwrought with a hunger no mere morsel could satiate.
”Fuck me. Fuck me soft and tender. Fuck me hard and long. Whichever way. Just fuck me.”
Snape was consumed by several of the seven deadly sins, furiously inclined to strip the boy of his purity and his self-righteousness. Pounding Harry’s arse, Snape cruelly withdrew before the onslaught of waves washed over Harry.
He left Harry breathless, corrupted, and craving, allowing him precious few moments to catch his breath, chest heaving.
The sound of breaking glass filled his ears once more, and briefly Harry envisioned Snape purging him of his sins through bloodletting. The thought, though curdling, titillated him. But this was not to be. Not yet.
”Release your upper grip on him”, Snape charged.
The Hands let go, and Harry’s body grew slack in their absence, physically spent.
Snape was quick to steady him, supporting Harry with his own weight.
”Extend your arms, boy. Palms up. Fingers spread.”
Weakly, Harry obeyed, puzzled at Snape’s request.
Into each upturned palm Snape deposited the sands of time, the granules comforting to the touch. Harry’s toes curled at the feel, wishing he were upon a sandy beach.
”Curl your fingertips around the mounds, and turn your palms downward, boy”, Snape ordered. “Time is literally in your hands. Make use of it as you will.”
Resting his bottom lip on Harry’s earlobe, Snape whispered breathily into Harry’s ear. ”Beg, and it shall be yours.”
Harry’s arms trembled, heavy with the burden of keeping them perfectly parallel.
”Give me your cock...Sir. Gods, please just give it to me”, Harry pleaded.
Mouth agape and eyes closed, Harry shuddered against Snape’s pressing hardness, and in doing so sand crystals seeped through the cracks in his fingers. It was far too momentary to splinter their likenesses, but strangely Harry heard first Snape’s words and then his own.
Lubing himself adequately, Snape slid his cock inside, several inches left outside. Snape spared no mercy on Harry, stretching him with each jackhammering plunge into his depths. Harry buried his fingernails in his palms to prevent further seepage, but now and again granules escaped and time fragments repeated. Harry’s arms seesawed, and there was no telling how long he could keep up with Snape’s poundings. The tip of Snape’s cock hugged every curve inside Harry until it struck his prostate, laying featherlight kiss upon kiss upon it. Harry was so close, arms flailing as if he meant to take flight; Snape was just as close, and just as the Potions Master was about explode, Harry loosened his grip allowing the crystals their freefall. It began again, every nuance of their coupling recurring.
Nothing had ever felt so damned good. Not the feeling of leaving the Dursleys behind at start of term. Not the winning spirit that accompanied quidditch victories. Not the friendships of Ron and Hermione. They all paled in comparison. This fuck he had to savour over and over again.
When Harry was finally ready, he allowed the exquisite friction of Snape’s prick to hurry them into an orgasmic abyss, but the release of the grains acted as a safety net. The two of them climaxed multiple times before the last of the hourglass silica fell. Harry’s glasses had strayed from behind an ear, dangling helplessly from the other. Neither spoke, basking in each another’s afterglow. Their bodies were sweat-soaked and come-stained, opalescent. Their aftershocks had ricocheted off the fissures in time surrounding them. They remained in their embrace with Harry helixed around his lover, until sweeping calm cradled Harry unconscious.
********************************************
The following day, which was to be the day of Harry’s release, Snape found Harry missing. Snape’s heart bottomed into his shoes, only to be startled by the unmistakable voice of Lucius Malfoy.
”I thought I told you my toy chest was off limits, Severus? And yet you insist upon the one toy I haven’t tired of. Young Mr. Potter is still quite shiny and new.”
"How ever did you find me, old friend?" Snape asked contemptuously.
"I followed your trail of breadcrumbs, Severus. You both stink of...well, words a gentleman would not utter in public", Lucius replied, wrinkling his nose distastefully. "Mr. Potter and I have been intimately acquainted now for months. Payment, perhaps, for past transgressions?"
Keeping Harry at bay with his cane, Lucius flashed his old school chum a wintry smile.
”Why not ask Potter the man of his choosing? Or are you afraid, Lucius, that he will choose me in your stead?”
”Nonsense, Severus. I have so much more to offer him.”
Ramming the head of his cane into Harry’s solar plexus, Lucius growled, “Well?”
Bitten by the bug that was the Stockholm Syndrome, Harry made his way over to the Potions Master, attaching himself rather fixedly to Snape’s leg.
Snape had had his *just desserts*. He had something money could never buy. He had Harry, body and soul.
”The Gods giveth and the Gods taketh away, Lucius”, Snape laughed.
”So mote it be, Severus, but this is far from over”, Lucius snarled.
”You never were one to lose graciously”, Snape volunteered.
After Lucius had departed, Snape offered his ring to Harry. Harry took Snape’s graceful hand in his, placing a chaste kiss upon the diamond-etched *S* inlaid with gold filigree. The *S* temporarily took the shape of a lightning bolt, hairpin curves straightening, sealing their bond.
********************************************
The day before the school-wide return, Harry sat across from Snape, a bottle between them.
”How did you know, Sir? How did you know I would go to you?” Harry asked curiously.
”Like it or not, Potter, I have an obligation to you like no other. We are bound by kismet, you and I. There are things learned that can never be unlearned. Choices made than can never be unmade. And fates sealed that can never be unbroken. We will always be drawn to one another like moth to flame.”
Harry watched Snape partake of his *other* obsession, quickly putting two and two together from days earlier. This had been what Snape had hoped to conceal.
Snape took the bottle in his hand, uncorking it. He drank until his sunken cheeks were full, pulling Harry towards him by the collar of his robe. Brutally mashing his lips to Harry’s, he forced the absinthe into the boy’s mouth with his tongue. Snape’s thumbs caressed Harry’s throat as he swallowed. A droplet lingered when their lips parted before rolling down Harry’s chin.
”Whether for good or for ill, we are in this together. Welcome to my world...Harry.”
Fin