can't sing worth a lick, but I can do tricks
title: say your prayers by night
author: acidquill
disclaimer: don’t own em
fandom: HP
rating: teen
warnings: dark-ish themes, lycanthropy as torture
character(s): Snape, mentions of major canon characters
word count: 467
notes: a small offering for iulia_linnea’s birthday. sorry, darlin, this isn’t very ‘festive’ ^^;; non-canon compliant b/c it’s more fun that way. title inspired by florence + the machine.
Severus was present when they brought Potter in, spitting and cursing; he clasped his hands behind his back and watched from his post next to the Dark Lord as the boy struggled. Potter had always been one to fight against what was hopeless. Severus knew better.
Voldemort cast a Silencing Charm on the boy. Looked down at him with seeming disinterest. Severus, at least, knew better than that as well. He was aware of what the Dark Lord planned well before the werewolf came slinking out from the shadows. His time had been swallowed up by Wolfsbane for weeks, along with other potions designed specifically for restraint and obedience.
Voldemort motioned to Fenrir. "I believe you have a job, Greyback."
The werewolf’s grin was savage. Yellow teeth bared in anticipation. Severus didn’t flinch when Potter was yanked up from the floor by his hair, nor when Greyback’s ragged nails left bloody trails across Potter’s cheek and temple.
His part must be played; there would be no rescue for the boy. Not in time to spare him from what was to come. Severus shifted, the quiet rustling of his robes obscenely loud against the counterpoint of nothing but the breathing of half a dozen wizards. Potter looked at him then. Hatred and fear written all over the boy’s face, the morbid distortion of his mouth as he raged without being able to utter a sound. Severus met his eyes and did not look away.
Greyback shook the boy like a kitten, snarled in his face.
"You won’t be so mouthy when I’m through with you."
Potter spit in the werewolf’s face, got the crack of a backhand across his jaw. Voldemort sat, watching. He nodded to the werewolf and smiled coldly when Fenrir held the struggling boy up for the assembled Inner Circle to see, before lunging in and biting down at the junction of neck and shoulder. Blood flowed over the remnants of Potter’s green sweater. Weasley, Severus thought absently.
The boy bucked at the first bite, but his efforts got weaker the longer the werewolf held him in his teeth. Finally the boy sagged against Greyback’s matted chest and was still.
Greyback threw back his head and howled in triumph, his mouth and beard stained red. Voldemort sat back in his chair, satisfied; he dismissed Severus with the wave of a hand. Severus retired gladly, more than ready to seek solitude in his his lab so he could gather the required potions. The Dark Lord wanted to start Potter’s training right away; he had no need of a pup that didn’t know - and fear - its master.
Severus had only to keep Potter alive long enough to be rescued. Before the next full moon, the Order would come for the boy; he would make sure of it.
- end
author: acidquill
disclaimer: don’t own em
fandom: HP
rating: teen
warnings: dark-ish themes, lycanthropy as torture
character(s): Snape, mentions of major canon characters
word count: 467
notes: a small offering for iulia_linnea’s birthday. sorry, darlin, this isn’t very ‘festive’ ^^;; non-canon compliant b/c it’s more fun that way. title inspired by florence + the machine.
Severus was present when they brought Potter in, spitting and cursing; he clasped his hands behind his back and watched from his post next to the Dark Lord as the boy struggled. Potter had always been one to fight against what was hopeless. Severus knew better.
Voldemort cast a Silencing Charm on the boy. Looked down at him with seeming disinterest. Severus, at least, knew better than that as well. He was aware of what the Dark Lord planned well before the werewolf came slinking out from the shadows. His time had been swallowed up by Wolfsbane for weeks, along with other potions designed specifically for restraint and obedience.
Voldemort motioned to Fenrir. "I believe you have a job, Greyback."
The werewolf’s grin was savage. Yellow teeth bared in anticipation. Severus didn’t flinch when Potter was yanked up from the floor by his hair, nor when Greyback’s ragged nails left bloody trails across Potter’s cheek and temple.
His part must be played; there would be no rescue for the boy. Not in time to spare him from what was to come. Severus shifted, the quiet rustling of his robes obscenely loud against the counterpoint of nothing but the breathing of half a dozen wizards. Potter looked at him then. Hatred and fear written all over the boy’s face, the morbid distortion of his mouth as he raged without being able to utter a sound. Severus met his eyes and did not look away.
Greyback shook the boy like a kitten, snarled in his face.
"You won’t be so mouthy when I’m through with you."
Potter spit in the werewolf’s face, got the crack of a backhand across his jaw. Voldemort sat, watching. He nodded to the werewolf and smiled coldly when Fenrir held the struggling boy up for the assembled Inner Circle to see, before lunging in and biting down at the junction of neck and shoulder. Blood flowed over the remnants of Potter’s green sweater. Weasley, Severus thought absently.
The boy bucked at the first bite, but his efforts got weaker the longer the werewolf held him in his teeth. Finally the boy sagged against Greyback’s matted chest and was still.
Greyback threw back his head and howled in triumph, his mouth and beard stained red. Voldemort sat back in his chair, satisfied; he dismissed Severus with the wave of a hand. Severus retired gladly, more than ready to seek solitude in his his lab so he could gather the required potions. The Dark Lord wanted to start Potter’s training right away; he had no need of a pup that didn’t know - and fear - its master.
Severus had only to keep Potter alive long enough to be rescued. Before the next full moon, the Order would come for the boy; he would make sure of it.
- end