Fic: Winter's Garden
Author: Bitterfig
Title: Winter’s Garden
Pairing: Severus Snape/Sirius Black (Lupin/Snape past, Lupin/Black present implied)
Summary: Set during the winter of Order of the Phoenix, the pressures of serving as a double agent have strained Snape to the breaking point. In number twelve, Grimmauld Place, Sirius Black is going a little mad himself.
Beta: Nzomniac
Word Count: 1834
Rating: NC-17
Beta Reader: Nzomniac
Warnings: Slash, angst, language, violence, mutual dub-con, past rape and really bad sex.
Winter’s Garden
It was late January, bitterly cold. Severus Snape was freezing from the inside.
There was an image caught in his mind, a memory that pushed out the present. He sat in dark rooms with Death Eaters as they talked about their plans. Even as he watched, even as he listened, they faded away. He could not see them clearly for the intrusive memory. The memory of a night two years before of Remus Lupin, then the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, kissing him again and again. How he had stood, frozen, as Lupin’s hands traveled down his back, his lips unyielding to those kisses. How this went on for what seemed like hours till Lupin was pleading, “Give me something, Severus. Please, let yourself go. You can trust me, Severus. Trust me.”
“I can’t,” Snape had said. “I trusted you once and I was wrong. You made a fool of me. You and Black…”
“I was sixteen years old, Severus,” Lupin said. “I didn’t know what I wanted. And Sirius … Sirius had a power over me then…”
“And now he’s back,” Snape said curtly. “He’s out of Azkaban and possibly at Hogwarts. He may even be in this building. He owned you, Lupin. Will he own you again when he shows himself?” He said this and the hurt on Lupin’s face was almost enough to make him wish he hadn’t.
“You don’t know what he did to me, Severus. He destroyed me. When he betrayed James and Lily and killed Peter, he destroyed me as well. I lost everything because of him. It took me years just to be able to get through a day without wishing I was dead, without wanting someone to punish me for being alive. I would never go back to him, Severus. I promise you that.”
And Snape had yielded to the best of his ability, accepted Lupin’s kisses though he could not return them. They had slept that night in Snape’s Spartan quarters, fully clothed on his narrow bed, Lupin’s long and awkward arms and legs thrown over him. It was as close to trusting as he could bring himself.
It was two years ago. Lupin had gone back to Sirius Black.
Still in the dark rooms with the Death Eaters, even as Voldemort pressed against Snape, touching cheek with pointed fingernails sharp as blades, red eyes burning, looking into his soul, Snape was lost in that memory. Lupin’s mouth against his, again and again and again as if he was chipping away at a block of ice, trying to thaw him one breath at a time.
“Do you know where are you tonight, Severus?” the Dark Lord whispered, the hard point of his tongue flickering against Snape’s ear. “Do you even know what side you’re on, ragged little spy?” His fingers touched the back of Snape’s neck. His heavy breath stealing all the air till Snape saw spots of black before his eyes. Even then he was feeling Remus Lupin’s fingers entwined in his.
Leaving the Death Eaters, he went to number twelve, Grimmauld Place. He stood outside for the longest time surveying the winter garden. The blasted flower stalks hung with icicles, the bare shrubbery and the hard grey earth. When the cold became unbearable, he went inside. The huge stone rooms were cold as the outside. The house seemed empty. He walked from room to room, finding his way to the kitchen which was usually crowded. No one was there but Sirius Black who rose to his feet as Snape entered.
“What are you doing here?” Black demanded. “It’s two in the morning, everyone left hours ago.”
“Two in the morning?” Snape repeated dumbly. Fogged as his mind was, he registered that there was a shot glass where Black had been sitting, a bottle of Firewhisky. He had apparently been drinking alone at two in the morning.
“I suppose you expect everyone to wait for you?” Black said, stepping forward hostilely. Then he stopped, scrutinizing the other man. “You look a wreck, Snape. Even worse than usual if that’s possible. Do you eat these days? Do you sleep?”
Truthfully, Snape couldn’t remember the last time he’d done either of these things, but he had no desire to exchange pleasantries with Sirius Black.
“Where’s Lupin?” he demanded.
“Chained up and ripping himself to pieces somewhere,” Sirius snapped. “Where do you think he is? It’s a full moon.” Snape raised an eyebrow.
“You’re not with him easing the transformation or whatever it is you do? I thought you could at least make yourself useful in that way.”
“If you’re so concerned, why don’t you go keep him company yourself?” Black smirked, matching cruelty with cruelty. “What do you want with Remus, anyway?” he added, a dangerous glint in his eye. Snape didn’t notice as everything had momentarily gone black. He stumbled; Black grabbed him before he fell.
“Get your hands off me,” Snape snarled, still dizzy.
“If I get my hands off you, you’ll be on the floor, you ungrateful bastard,” Black snapped.
The unwanted closeness was disconcerting. After all, hadn’t he come there that night drawn by a memory of intimacy, of physical closeness … but not with Sirius Black.
Snape tried to breathe, but an overpowering smell of Firewhisky clung to the other man, closing his throat. Black leaned in closer.
“You’re bleeding,” he said. “Your ear is bleeding.” His breath seemed to steal the air.
“Get your hands off me,” Snape repeated through gritted teeth and pushed Black away, a clawed hand in his face. Black struck back, his heavy ring tearing open Snape’s cheek.
Snape raised his wand and Black, who didn’t have his handy, caught him by the wrist with one hand and by the throat with the other. They only struggled briefly. Azkaban had left Black a shell of his former self, but he was still stronger. Snape’s wand fell to the floor as Black pinned him against the wall.
“Are you cracked, Snape?” Black panted. “Can’t you tell the difference between being helped and being attacked?”
Snape was seething with icy rage. His free hand latched ungently onto Black’s crotch fully intending to rip and twist. Black gasped in shock, Snape, too, started with surprise. Black was hard, bulging through his pants.
“You cur,” Snape said. Yet, for all the vehemence of his words, his voice was flat and distant. “I see bashing me around still excites you. Are you planning on holding me down and buggering me like you used to in school?” Black let him go, tried to back away, but Snape’s hand remained locked on him. “But why not?”
“You have lost it, Snape. Your eyes aren’t right,” Black said as his voice waivered, perhaps with fear … or expectation.
“Why not?” Snape repeated. His grip softened, his hand began kneading Black’s groin in a hypnotic rhythm. “What you did to me was child’s play compared to when Voldemort had his way.” Black arched towards him, gripping the front of Snape’s robes in his fists. “I’ve gone back to Voldemort. Why not go back to you. Why not revisit all my rapes?”
“You’re sick. You’re mad.” Black tried to shove him away; they struggled again. This time it ended with Snape pinned against the tabletop, Black’s weight on his back. “Back off, Snape,” Black snarled. “For once in your life, don’t provoke me!” Snape moved his hips, grinding himself against Black.
“Do it,” Snape said. “Do your best, Sirius. You’re the lesser of the two evils-the boy to the man. When the Dark Lord rapes you, you stay raped. You had me first, but he had me completely. So do your best, see if you can make the slightest impression.”
Black grabbed him by the hair, his face in Snape’s face. “You asked for it, you stupid, ugly bastard,” he spat. “I hate the sight of you, you sicken me, but I’ve been trapped in here so long that fucking is preferable to sitting in the dark with the ghosts.”
“That’s what I was the first time,” Snape said. “A diversion when you were restless. You haven’t changed. You were a dog at Hogwarts, you’re a dog now.”
“Shut up.” Black smashed his mouth against Snape’s in a crude, loveless kiss. Snape undid Black’s belt and unzipped his pants, freeing his erection. There were few words between them, only terse commands from Black. “Suck it, keep going, don’t stop. Take down your pants.”
Snape lay on his stomach on the stone floor as Black slopped cooking oil onto his hands. He thrust his finger into Snape, his free hand pressing down on his neck. “Your arse is bones; I can see your tailbone. It’s revolting.” Another finger jerked harshly back and forth. “Your body’s like the ash on a cigarette. Even your skin’s that same grey. This is going to be like fucking a corpse.” He pulled out his fingers and rammed his cock all the way inside. Snape cried out, jerking upright, his head smashing against Black’s chin. He bit his lip, blood appearing at the corner of his mouth. He gasped, his hands grasping Snape’s cock.
“Oh fuck, you’re so tight. I can’t believe how tight you are.” He moved now, slowly at first, steadily gaining speed, stroking Snape in tempo. “You feel like a virgin.”
“It’s been a long time,” Snape said. He was staring into the distance, he was in another world. “Regulus was the last, the last one inside me.”
“Regulus, my brother? He died fifteen, sixteen years ago…”
“I loved him. More than you ever did. You broke his heart.”
“He’s dead. He doesn’t matter.” His movements became quicker, more forceful. “Don’t talk about him. Don’t talk at all. I just want to pound you into the floor and be done with this.”
“Do it,” Snape ordered and Black rode him mercilessly till they were both doubled over panting for breath.
Black pulled out, wiped his hands on Snape’s robes and got to his feet.
“Get out of my house,” he said. “You twisted, death-eating fuck.”
“I almost felt something,” Snape said distantly. He pulled his clothing back on and started for the door.
“Wait,” Black called. “You will come back?”
“Lupin must not know anything about this.”
“What do you care? Are you in love with him?”
“Does it matter?”
He walked out through the dead, winter garden. He remembered Remus Lupin kissing him that night. Kissing him again and again as if he were chipping away at a block of ice. Promising and lying, but two years later, he was still in Snape’s mind, still trying to thaw him one breath at a time.
At least with Black on top of him, it had for a moment stopped. Fucking Sirius Black couldn’t take away Regulus’ death or Voldemort’s burning red eyes and the feeling of that serpent’s tongue drawing blood from his ear, but it could at least kill the foolish hope of those unrelenting kisses.
Title: Winter’s Garden
Pairing: Severus Snape/Sirius Black (Lupin/Snape past, Lupin/Black present implied)
Summary: Set during the winter of Order of the Phoenix, the pressures of serving as a double agent have strained Snape to the breaking point. In number twelve, Grimmauld Place, Sirius Black is going a little mad himself.
Beta: Nzomniac
Word Count: 1834
Rating: NC-17
Beta Reader: Nzomniac
Warnings: Slash, angst, language, violence, mutual dub-con, past rape and really bad sex.
Winter’s Garden
It was late January, bitterly cold. Severus Snape was freezing from the inside.
There was an image caught in his mind, a memory that pushed out the present. He sat in dark rooms with Death Eaters as they talked about their plans. Even as he watched, even as he listened, they faded away. He could not see them clearly for the intrusive memory. The memory of a night two years before of Remus Lupin, then the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, kissing him again and again. How he had stood, frozen, as Lupin’s hands traveled down his back, his lips unyielding to those kisses. How this went on for what seemed like hours till Lupin was pleading, “Give me something, Severus. Please, let yourself go. You can trust me, Severus. Trust me.”
“I can’t,” Snape had said. “I trusted you once and I was wrong. You made a fool of me. You and Black…”
“I was sixteen years old, Severus,” Lupin said. “I didn’t know what I wanted. And Sirius … Sirius had a power over me then…”
“And now he’s back,” Snape said curtly. “He’s out of Azkaban and possibly at Hogwarts. He may even be in this building. He owned you, Lupin. Will he own you again when he shows himself?” He said this and the hurt on Lupin’s face was almost enough to make him wish he hadn’t.
“You don’t know what he did to me, Severus. He destroyed me. When he betrayed James and Lily and killed Peter, he destroyed me as well. I lost everything because of him. It took me years just to be able to get through a day without wishing I was dead, without wanting someone to punish me for being alive. I would never go back to him, Severus. I promise you that.”
And Snape had yielded to the best of his ability, accepted Lupin’s kisses though he could not return them. They had slept that night in Snape’s Spartan quarters, fully clothed on his narrow bed, Lupin’s long and awkward arms and legs thrown over him. It was as close to trusting as he could bring himself.
It was two years ago. Lupin had gone back to Sirius Black.
Still in the dark rooms with the Death Eaters, even as Voldemort pressed against Snape, touching cheek with pointed fingernails sharp as blades, red eyes burning, looking into his soul, Snape was lost in that memory. Lupin’s mouth against his, again and again and again as if he was chipping away at a block of ice, trying to thaw him one breath at a time.
“Do you know where are you tonight, Severus?” the Dark Lord whispered, the hard point of his tongue flickering against Snape’s ear. “Do you even know what side you’re on, ragged little spy?” His fingers touched the back of Snape’s neck. His heavy breath stealing all the air till Snape saw spots of black before his eyes. Even then he was feeling Remus Lupin’s fingers entwined in his.
Leaving the Death Eaters, he went to number twelve, Grimmauld Place. He stood outside for the longest time surveying the winter garden. The blasted flower stalks hung with icicles, the bare shrubbery and the hard grey earth. When the cold became unbearable, he went inside. The huge stone rooms were cold as the outside. The house seemed empty. He walked from room to room, finding his way to the kitchen which was usually crowded. No one was there but Sirius Black who rose to his feet as Snape entered.
“What are you doing here?” Black demanded. “It’s two in the morning, everyone left hours ago.”
“Two in the morning?” Snape repeated dumbly. Fogged as his mind was, he registered that there was a shot glass where Black had been sitting, a bottle of Firewhisky. He had apparently been drinking alone at two in the morning.
“I suppose you expect everyone to wait for you?” Black said, stepping forward hostilely. Then he stopped, scrutinizing the other man. “You look a wreck, Snape. Even worse than usual if that’s possible. Do you eat these days? Do you sleep?”
Truthfully, Snape couldn’t remember the last time he’d done either of these things, but he had no desire to exchange pleasantries with Sirius Black.
“Where’s Lupin?” he demanded.
“Chained up and ripping himself to pieces somewhere,” Sirius snapped. “Where do you think he is? It’s a full moon.” Snape raised an eyebrow.
“You’re not with him easing the transformation or whatever it is you do? I thought you could at least make yourself useful in that way.”
“If you’re so concerned, why don’t you go keep him company yourself?” Black smirked, matching cruelty with cruelty. “What do you want with Remus, anyway?” he added, a dangerous glint in his eye. Snape didn’t notice as everything had momentarily gone black. He stumbled; Black grabbed him before he fell.
“Get your hands off me,” Snape snarled, still dizzy.
“If I get my hands off you, you’ll be on the floor, you ungrateful bastard,” Black snapped.
The unwanted closeness was disconcerting. After all, hadn’t he come there that night drawn by a memory of intimacy, of physical closeness … but not with Sirius Black.
Snape tried to breathe, but an overpowering smell of Firewhisky clung to the other man, closing his throat. Black leaned in closer.
“You’re bleeding,” he said. “Your ear is bleeding.” His breath seemed to steal the air.
“Get your hands off me,” Snape repeated through gritted teeth and pushed Black away, a clawed hand in his face. Black struck back, his heavy ring tearing open Snape’s cheek.
Snape raised his wand and Black, who didn’t have his handy, caught him by the wrist with one hand and by the throat with the other. They only struggled briefly. Azkaban had left Black a shell of his former self, but he was still stronger. Snape’s wand fell to the floor as Black pinned him against the wall.
“Are you cracked, Snape?” Black panted. “Can’t you tell the difference between being helped and being attacked?”
Snape was seething with icy rage. His free hand latched ungently onto Black’s crotch fully intending to rip and twist. Black gasped in shock, Snape, too, started with surprise. Black was hard, bulging through his pants.
“You cur,” Snape said. Yet, for all the vehemence of his words, his voice was flat and distant. “I see bashing me around still excites you. Are you planning on holding me down and buggering me like you used to in school?” Black let him go, tried to back away, but Snape’s hand remained locked on him. “But why not?”
“You have lost it, Snape. Your eyes aren’t right,” Black said as his voice waivered, perhaps with fear … or expectation.
“Why not?” Snape repeated. His grip softened, his hand began kneading Black’s groin in a hypnotic rhythm. “What you did to me was child’s play compared to when Voldemort had his way.” Black arched towards him, gripping the front of Snape’s robes in his fists. “I’ve gone back to Voldemort. Why not go back to you. Why not revisit all my rapes?”
“You’re sick. You’re mad.” Black tried to shove him away; they struggled again. This time it ended with Snape pinned against the tabletop, Black’s weight on his back. “Back off, Snape,” Black snarled. “For once in your life, don’t provoke me!” Snape moved his hips, grinding himself against Black.
“Do it,” Snape said. “Do your best, Sirius. You’re the lesser of the two evils-the boy to the man. When the Dark Lord rapes you, you stay raped. You had me first, but he had me completely. So do your best, see if you can make the slightest impression.”
Black grabbed him by the hair, his face in Snape’s face. “You asked for it, you stupid, ugly bastard,” he spat. “I hate the sight of you, you sicken me, but I’ve been trapped in here so long that fucking is preferable to sitting in the dark with the ghosts.”
“That’s what I was the first time,” Snape said. “A diversion when you were restless. You haven’t changed. You were a dog at Hogwarts, you’re a dog now.”
“Shut up.” Black smashed his mouth against Snape’s in a crude, loveless kiss. Snape undid Black’s belt and unzipped his pants, freeing his erection. There were few words between them, only terse commands from Black. “Suck it, keep going, don’t stop. Take down your pants.”
Snape lay on his stomach on the stone floor as Black slopped cooking oil onto his hands. He thrust his finger into Snape, his free hand pressing down on his neck. “Your arse is bones; I can see your tailbone. It’s revolting.” Another finger jerked harshly back and forth. “Your body’s like the ash on a cigarette. Even your skin’s that same grey. This is going to be like fucking a corpse.” He pulled out his fingers and rammed his cock all the way inside. Snape cried out, jerking upright, his head smashing against Black’s chin. He bit his lip, blood appearing at the corner of his mouth. He gasped, his hands grasping Snape’s cock.
“Oh fuck, you’re so tight. I can’t believe how tight you are.” He moved now, slowly at first, steadily gaining speed, stroking Snape in tempo. “You feel like a virgin.”
“It’s been a long time,” Snape said. He was staring into the distance, he was in another world. “Regulus was the last, the last one inside me.”
“Regulus, my brother? He died fifteen, sixteen years ago…”
“I loved him. More than you ever did. You broke his heart.”
“He’s dead. He doesn’t matter.” His movements became quicker, more forceful. “Don’t talk about him. Don’t talk at all. I just want to pound you into the floor and be done with this.”
“Do it,” Snape ordered and Black rode him mercilessly till they were both doubled over panting for breath.
Black pulled out, wiped his hands on Snape’s robes and got to his feet.
“Get out of my house,” he said. “You twisted, death-eating fuck.”
“I almost felt something,” Snape said distantly. He pulled his clothing back on and started for the door.
“Wait,” Black called. “You will come back?”
“Lupin must not know anything about this.”
“What do you care? Are you in love with him?”
“Does it matter?”
He walked out through the dead, winter garden. He remembered Remus Lupin kissing him that night. Kissing him again and again as if he were chipping away at a block of ice. Promising and lying, but two years later, he was still in Snape’s mind, still trying to thaw him one breath at a time.
At least with Black on top of him, it had for a moment stopped. Fucking Sirius Black couldn’t take away Regulus’ death or Voldemort’s burning red eyes and the feeling of that serpent’s tongue drawing blood from his ear, but it could at least kill the foolish hope of those unrelenting kisses.