End of Obsession, Ch. 16
Title: The End of Obsession, Ch. 16
Author: juwel_fic
Rating: NC-17
Wordcount: 2282 words this chapter
Pairings/characters: Severus/Harry (main), also Severus/Lucius, Severus/Draco, past Voldemort/Severus and Voldemort/Lucius, hints of Draco/Harry
Summary: Snape has always been obsessed. Now that the war is over, it's time to get over that little obsession. In his path he finds it's not only Harry who has need of his . . . talents. And also, his protection.
Warnings: dub con, bdsm, past abuse and rape, biting, blood, collars, breathplay, cutting.
Author's notes: The idea for this story was originally based on a request from venturous1 for harry_holidays with the request "how about Snape's first time, go as dark as you want to with it, including non-con; contrast with Harry's deflowering." The writing was delayed, however, due to schooling, and now it’s turned into this gigantic thing. Here's hoping for the UST and mind-blowing smut you asked for!
Disclaimer: The characters in this fiction are the property of J.K. Rowling. No money is being made from this and no trademark infringement is intended. This is purely for your reading pleasure.
Previous chapters: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15
Thanks for the patience! The latest festfic is done. :)
Severus appeared in his room at the Malfoy Manor in a rage, tearing off his pyjamas and hurrying to dress himself in his black robes, snarling to himself under his breath. Curse Lucius to Hades and back, sending Bibsy to fetch from Harry's place! Not to mention his bed.
As soon as he was dressed, Severus stormed out of his room, almost running into Lucius and Draco, who were standing in the hallway, apparently waiting for him. He glowered at Lucius, who looked smug and unconcerned. "You rang?" Severus snarled, voice dripping with sarcasm.
Lucius merely looked at him. "Enjoy your evening?" Severus could see Draco in the corner of his eye, trying to be invisible again. At the moment, however, his focus was on the father. And how much he wanted to hex him to oblivion at this moment.
"Yes--I always enjoy having to race over to once again save the Wizarding Hero from self destruction, thus ensuring my--and your continued good status in the community," Severus hissed, refusing to take any bait. Lucius obviously knew where he had been, and probably also what he had been up to. He wasn't about to give the man any more fuel to make trouble with.
"Indeed," Lucius said, eyes glittering, showing nothing of his true emotions. "Particularly this time, I imagine. You're late for your duties." He raised his head defiantly, but Severus knew this was an act, one he had seen far too many times before the Dark Lord had enslaved the pompous arse.
Severus bestowed one of his icy glares at the man. "My duties?! I am aware of no such condition of my stay."
Lucius's gaze flicked to his son. "Why, your agreement to home tutor your godson, of course." He didn't emphasize the word, but then, he didn't need to. Severus tasted bile in the back of his throat and swallowed with difficulty. Lucius knew him too well, curse his soft heart. He knew that Severus would not abandon his godchild, whatever his feelings for the father.
Severus schooled his features into something as close to boredom as he could manage. Harry must be wondering what the hell was going on . . . but it was true, that he had given Draco his word. "Ah, that. My apologies, Draco. I had something of an emergency to deal with." He forced himself not to look at Lucius, not to acknowledge him. "We can begin your lesson immediately." He had to remind himself that as much as he wanted to go into his room and pack his belongings, last night had not changed one thing. He still needed a place to live, and unless Harry was willing to take him in, he was still indebted to the Malfoys. It seemed a bit premature to ask Potter such a thing. He didn't even know how he'd be received next time he appeared there.
It was obvious that Draco was uncomfortable being there, but he gave a slow nod. "Thank you," he said softly.
Severus finally allowed himself to look at Lucius as he began following Draco to the drawing room.
From the look on Lucius's face, he knew the matter was far from over.
***
Harry still couldn't believe what was happening.
He was sitting at the table in the kitchen with a bowl of porridge and a mug of coffee, trying decide if he was angry or sad or scared, or happy. Or just plain lost, which was mostly what he was feeling at the moment. Snape was alive. Snape was also as sexy as fuck, and sex with him was brilliant. Part of him just wanted to lay around with a silly grin on his face, thinking about last night, and even this morning.
But then Snape had left. With the Malfoy house elf. What was he supposed to make of that?
Despite Draco and Narcissa's actions, he knew he still couldn't trust the Malfoys, Lucius in particular. It gave him a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach, knowing that Snape--Severus--was involved with them in any way. But he also could understand what his old Potions master had done, why he had done it, pretending to be dead. How much simpler would life be right now if he had done something similar?
And then there was the big picture on the front of the Daily Prophet, and Rita Skeeter's in depth expose on "Potter is a Pouf!" He'd forced himself to read the article, mostly because he knew all his friends--and his enemies--would also be reading it, and the questions and accusations would soon be arriving in droves. It was as bad as he'd feared--the picture left nothing to imagination, showing how much he'd been enjoying that kiss with the Polyjuiced photographer. Apparently there really was a player named Dervish in Puddlemere, and he really was openly bisexual, so the photographer had clearly been saving that Polyjuice for a perfect opportunity. Like outing Harry Potter. Rita had postulated that Harry's homosexuality might be due to that 'perverted link binding the impressionable teenager with the darkest of Dark Lords.' In short, while it didn't make him a villain, it once again painted a picture of a completely empty-headed, cursed and impotent victim. One that the wizarding world and the Ministry in particular probably shouldn’t listen too closely to. Harry wanted to shove the fucking paper down the bitch's throat.
Harry hadn't bothered to open any of the owl-delivered letters yet, though he had looked to see who had sent them. It wasn't any great surprise that several were from Weasleys, including Ginny. Headmaster McGonnagal had also sent something, which he was dreading reading. Would this interfere with him returning to Hogwarts? And then there were quite a few from wizards he'd never even heard of. He did also notice one from Ben the bartender. That one he actually did plan on reading, soon. When he was ready to face things.
He had only just managed to finish his breakfast with the noon hour swiftly approaching, when there was a knock at his front door. There were only a handful of people that could possibly be, so he stood up, double checking to be sure he was decent even though it was only jeans and a t-shirt. Had Snape returned?
Instead, it was Hermione's voice that greeted him. "Harry? Do you mind if I come in?" She sounded concerned, which meant she'd definitely read the article.
Harry sighed. "In the kitchen." He waited until she entered the room, holding a copy of the paper gingerly in her hands. She looked at him hesitantly, her face worried.
"Is it true? I mean the sexual orientation--not the rest of it. I know better than to believe most of what Rita writes," she said, setting aside the paper. She blew out a breath at the pile of letters on the table. "Did those all arrive today?"
"Yeah," Harry said, and it was like that pile was sitting on top of him, weighing him down. At least he wasn't in the dark state he'd been in last night. Funny that thoughts about the blackest, darkest eyes he'd ever seen were keeping him out of that abyss. "And for being bent . . . yeah. I sort of found that out about myself last night." He held his breath, waiting for her reaction.
Hermione was obviously trying to hide her emotions, but strangely, there was relief on her face, and she smiled tentatively at him. "Oh, Harry. That's--well I don't know if you feel that's good or bad, but it makes sense. I mean, I did kind of wonder why . . . all those nights in the tent . . . you weren't even the least bit curious." She laughed softly. "I guess I was a little disappointed that you didn't seem to find me attractive, even a little." She blew out a breath. "And Ginny . . . wow. Have you talked to her yet?"
Harry shook his head, grimacing. "I'm not ready to. She was seeing other fellows anyway. It wasn't working." This brought up a whole other question--did he tell her about Snape? How would she react to that? "Hermione? Do you promise not to go totally mental if I tell you something that's not in the paper?"
That brought Hermione up short. She gave Harry a hard look. "What?"
Harry hesitated, chewing his lip. Snape had kept his survival a secret, but the way things were going, would he still want to keep himself hidden? "You have to promise not to tell anyone. Not even Ron." Oi, Ron. "How is Ron?" There was another one who might be going mental today, just from what was in the paper.
Hermione shrugged, sitting down at the table. She was dressed in a skirt and blouse, but over that she was wearing an apron, and Harry was reminded that she'd been spending all her time lately at St. Mungo's to be near her parents. He wondered how they were doing. "Ron's freaking out, naturally. He's wondering if you were looking at him while he was sleeping, since you roomed together, naturally, and then of course he's not sure how to feel about you and his sister." She chuckled. "I think in some ways he's actually relieved, though. Although now he's making comments that you can't go after any of his brothers!"
Harry rolled his eyes. "Tell him he and his brothers are totally safe." He blushed. "It seems I have more of a thing for older blokes."
He watched as Hermione blinked in surprise at him. "Tell me," she urged, shifting her chair so that he could sit down next to her. "You know--that makes sense, I mean with your father being absent and--" she caught his angry look and broke off. "Sorry."
"This is hard enough," Harry warned her, as he sat down. He blew out a breath. Hermione was his best friend, and if anyone could figure out this mess, she could. "Snape's alive," he began, and held up a hand when she started to speak. She closed her mouth, nodding for him to continue. "He showed up last night--I guess he's been watching over me, just like he did when we were on the run, when he sent the sword of Gryffindor--remember? So anyways, I was really depressed last night. I was thinking of hurting myself. He showed up. And . . ." The blush deepened. "Things happened." He saw her look of horror, and hurried to clarify. "Really good things. I mean really good. He didn't take advantage. Trust me." He couldn't help the little smile tugging at his lips.
Hermione didn’t seem convinced, but she nodded. She fixed Harry with a look. “Okay-for now. I know that you say he was always working for our side. But he was absolutely horrid to you-to all of us, all those years. So you’ll understand, I hope, if I reserve judgement for a bit.”
Harry shrugged. “That’s fair enough. I mean, if this had happened to someone I knew, instead of me, I’d probably say the same thing.” He smiled a little. “He was different. Not so bitter and angry. And Hermione, if you had seen his memories, his childhood, what he went through . . .” He shook his head. “I think he and I are actually more alike that we’d ever realised.” It was too bad they hadn’t known that earlier-but then again, Harry thought, he probably wouldn’t have been able to fulfil his task, if he'd known. Nor Snape his.
He was quiet a moment, thinking, until Hermione picked up her paper again. “Is he here now?” She asked, looking around.
That brought back the feelings of doubt. “No-I guess he’s been staying with the Malfoys.”
Hermione grimaced. “That can’t be good.”
Harry made a face, nodding. “I know.” He sighed, looking at the pile of letters. “He’s supposed to help me later on, to figure out what to do about the press and my outing.” He looked at her hopefully. “Do you have any suggestions?”
“Harry,” Hermione cautioned, looking cross and tired, “This isn’t really my area of expertise.” She played with a strand of her hair. “But all the same . . . it might be interesting, and possibly beneficial, if you were to surprise everyone. You always tried to hide from the press, to avoid it. Maybe you should go out and actively embrace it? Do something nobody would ever expect of you?” She chuckled. “Would put Skeeter on her ear, at least, if you didn’t cower or blow your temper. She wants to make you weak. Be strong.”
That sounded downright brilliant. “Snape said the Slytherin thing to do would be to turn my weakness into my strength.” It was a frightening thought that Hermione and Snape could be coming to the same conclusion.
“Yes, exactly,” Hermione said, becoming more animated as she spoke. “It should be big and bold, show them that you’re not ashamed and that they can’t bully you. Something to astonish-and charm-both the press and the public.” She blew out a breath. “Not sure exactly what, though. A speech seems like it would be rather dry.”
A most interesting thought came to Harry. “I think I’ve got it. But I’ll have to see if Snape will agree to it.”
Hermione looked flummoxed, which meant it was absolutely a perfect idea, Harry decided. He grinned, his mind starting to whirl with the details. “What?” She asked, breathlessly.
He beamed at her. “A date. In public.”
***
Chapter Seventeen
Author: juwel_fic
Rating: NC-17
Wordcount: 2282 words this chapter
Pairings/characters: Severus/Harry (main), also Severus/Lucius, Severus/Draco, past Voldemort/Severus and Voldemort/Lucius, hints of Draco/Harry
Summary: Snape has always been obsessed. Now that the war is over, it's time to get over that little obsession. In his path he finds it's not only Harry who has need of his . . . talents. And also, his protection.
Warnings: dub con, bdsm, past abuse and rape, biting, blood, collars, breathplay, cutting.
Author's notes: The idea for this story was originally based on a request from venturous1 for harry_holidays with the request "how about Snape's first time, go as dark as you want to with it, including non-con; contrast with Harry's deflowering." The writing was delayed, however, due to schooling, and now it’s turned into this gigantic thing. Here's hoping for the UST and mind-blowing smut you asked for!
Disclaimer: The characters in this fiction are the property of J.K. Rowling. No money is being made from this and no trademark infringement is intended. This is purely for your reading pleasure.
Previous chapters: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15
Thanks for the patience! The latest festfic is done. :)
Severus appeared in his room at the Malfoy Manor in a rage, tearing off his pyjamas and hurrying to dress himself in his black robes, snarling to himself under his breath. Curse Lucius to Hades and back, sending Bibsy to fetch from Harry's place! Not to mention his bed.
As soon as he was dressed, Severus stormed out of his room, almost running into Lucius and Draco, who were standing in the hallway, apparently waiting for him. He glowered at Lucius, who looked smug and unconcerned. "You rang?" Severus snarled, voice dripping with sarcasm.
Lucius merely looked at him. "Enjoy your evening?" Severus could see Draco in the corner of his eye, trying to be invisible again. At the moment, however, his focus was on the father. And how much he wanted to hex him to oblivion at this moment.
"Yes--I always enjoy having to race over to once again save the Wizarding Hero from self destruction, thus ensuring my--and your continued good status in the community," Severus hissed, refusing to take any bait. Lucius obviously knew where he had been, and probably also what he had been up to. He wasn't about to give the man any more fuel to make trouble with.
"Indeed," Lucius said, eyes glittering, showing nothing of his true emotions. "Particularly this time, I imagine. You're late for your duties." He raised his head defiantly, but Severus knew this was an act, one he had seen far too many times before the Dark Lord had enslaved the pompous arse.
Severus bestowed one of his icy glares at the man. "My duties?! I am aware of no such condition of my stay."
Lucius's gaze flicked to his son. "Why, your agreement to home tutor your godson, of course." He didn't emphasize the word, but then, he didn't need to. Severus tasted bile in the back of his throat and swallowed with difficulty. Lucius knew him too well, curse his soft heart. He knew that Severus would not abandon his godchild, whatever his feelings for the father.
Severus schooled his features into something as close to boredom as he could manage. Harry must be wondering what the hell was going on . . . but it was true, that he had given Draco his word. "Ah, that. My apologies, Draco. I had something of an emergency to deal with." He forced himself not to look at Lucius, not to acknowledge him. "We can begin your lesson immediately." He had to remind himself that as much as he wanted to go into his room and pack his belongings, last night had not changed one thing. He still needed a place to live, and unless Harry was willing to take him in, he was still indebted to the Malfoys. It seemed a bit premature to ask Potter such a thing. He didn't even know how he'd be received next time he appeared there.
It was obvious that Draco was uncomfortable being there, but he gave a slow nod. "Thank you," he said softly.
Severus finally allowed himself to look at Lucius as he began following Draco to the drawing room.
From the look on Lucius's face, he knew the matter was far from over.
***
Harry still couldn't believe what was happening.
He was sitting at the table in the kitchen with a bowl of porridge and a mug of coffee, trying decide if he was angry or sad or scared, or happy. Or just plain lost, which was mostly what he was feeling at the moment. Snape was alive. Snape was also as sexy as fuck, and sex with him was brilliant. Part of him just wanted to lay around with a silly grin on his face, thinking about last night, and even this morning.
But then Snape had left. With the Malfoy house elf. What was he supposed to make of that?
Despite Draco and Narcissa's actions, he knew he still couldn't trust the Malfoys, Lucius in particular. It gave him a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach, knowing that Snape--Severus--was involved with them in any way. But he also could understand what his old Potions master had done, why he had done it, pretending to be dead. How much simpler would life be right now if he had done something similar?
And then there was the big picture on the front of the Daily Prophet, and Rita Skeeter's in depth expose on "Potter is a Pouf!" He'd forced himself to read the article, mostly because he knew all his friends--and his enemies--would also be reading it, and the questions and accusations would soon be arriving in droves. It was as bad as he'd feared--the picture left nothing to imagination, showing how much he'd been enjoying that kiss with the Polyjuiced photographer. Apparently there really was a player named Dervish in Puddlemere, and he really was openly bisexual, so the photographer had clearly been saving that Polyjuice for a perfect opportunity. Like outing Harry Potter. Rita had postulated that Harry's homosexuality might be due to that 'perverted link binding the impressionable teenager with the darkest of Dark Lords.' In short, while it didn't make him a villain, it once again painted a picture of a completely empty-headed, cursed and impotent victim. One that the wizarding world and the Ministry in particular probably shouldn’t listen too closely to. Harry wanted to shove the fucking paper down the bitch's throat.
Harry hadn't bothered to open any of the owl-delivered letters yet, though he had looked to see who had sent them. It wasn't any great surprise that several were from Weasleys, including Ginny. Headmaster McGonnagal had also sent something, which he was dreading reading. Would this interfere with him returning to Hogwarts? And then there were quite a few from wizards he'd never even heard of. He did also notice one from Ben the bartender. That one he actually did plan on reading, soon. When he was ready to face things.
He had only just managed to finish his breakfast with the noon hour swiftly approaching, when there was a knock at his front door. There were only a handful of people that could possibly be, so he stood up, double checking to be sure he was decent even though it was only jeans and a t-shirt. Had Snape returned?
Instead, it was Hermione's voice that greeted him. "Harry? Do you mind if I come in?" She sounded concerned, which meant she'd definitely read the article.
Harry sighed. "In the kitchen." He waited until she entered the room, holding a copy of the paper gingerly in her hands. She looked at him hesitantly, her face worried.
"Is it true? I mean the sexual orientation--not the rest of it. I know better than to believe most of what Rita writes," she said, setting aside the paper. She blew out a breath at the pile of letters on the table. "Did those all arrive today?"
"Yeah," Harry said, and it was like that pile was sitting on top of him, weighing him down. At least he wasn't in the dark state he'd been in last night. Funny that thoughts about the blackest, darkest eyes he'd ever seen were keeping him out of that abyss. "And for being bent . . . yeah. I sort of found that out about myself last night." He held his breath, waiting for her reaction.
Hermione was obviously trying to hide her emotions, but strangely, there was relief on her face, and she smiled tentatively at him. "Oh, Harry. That's--well I don't know if you feel that's good or bad, but it makes sense. I mean, I did kind of wonder why . . . all those nights in the tent . . . you weren't even the least bit curious." She laughed softly. "I guess I was a little disappointed that you didn't seem to find me attractive, even a little." She blew out a breath. "And Ginny . . . wow. Have you talked to her yet?"
Harry shook his head, grimacing. "I'm not ready to. She was seeing other fellows anyway. It wasn't working." This brought up a whole other question--did he tell her about Snape? How would she react to that? "Hermione? Do you promise not to go totally mental if I tell you something that's not in the paper?"
That brought Hermione up short. She gave Harry a hard look. "What?"
Harry hesitated, chewing his lip. Snape had kept his survival a secret, but the way things were going, would he still want to keep himself hidden? "You have to promise not to tell anyone. Not even Ron." Oi, Ron. "How is Ron?" There was another one who might be going mental today, just from what was in the paper.
Hermione shrugged, sitting down at the table. She was dressed in a skirt and blouse, but over that she was wearing an apron, and Harry was reminded that she'd been spending all her time lately at St. Mungo's to be near her parents. He wondered how they were doing. "Ron's freaking out, naturally. He's wondering if you were looking at him while he was sleeping, since you roomed together, naturally, and then of course he's not sure how to feel about you and his sister." She chuckled. "I think in some ways he's actually relieved, though. Although now he's making comments that you can't go after any of his brothers!"
Harry rolled his eyes. "Tell him he and his brothers are totally safe." He blushed. "It seems I have more of a thing for older blokes."
He watched as Hermione blinked in surprise at him. "Tell me," she urged, shifting her chair so that he could sit down next to her. "You know--that makes sense, I mean with your father being absent and--" she caught his angry look and broke off. "Sorry."
"This is hard enough," Harry warned her, as he sat down. He blew out a breath. Hermione was his best friend, and if anyone could figure out this mess, she could. "Snape's alive," he began, and held up a hand when she started to speak. She closed her mouth, nodding for him to continue. "He showed up last night--I guess he's been watching over me, just like he did when we were on the run, when he sent the sword of Gryffindor--remember? So anyways, I was really depressed last night. I was thinking of hurting myself. He showed up. And . . ." The blush deepened. "Things happened." He saw her look of horror, and hurried to clarify. "Really good things. I mean really good. He didn't take advantage. Trust me." He couldn't help the little smile tugging at his lips.
Hermione didn’t seem convinced, but she nodded. She fixed Harry with a look. “Okay-for now. I know that you say he was always working for our side. But he was absolutely horrid to you-to all of us, all those years. So you’ll understand, I hope, if I reserve judgement for a bit.”
Harry shrugged. “That’s fair enough. I mean, if this had happened to someone I knew, instead of me, I’d probably say the same thing.” He smiled a little. “He was different. Not so bitter and angry. And Hermione, if you had seen his memories, his childhood, what he went through . . .” He shook his head. “I think he and I are actually more alike that we’d ever realised.” It was too bad they hadn’t known that earlier-but then again, Harry thought, he probably wouldn’t have been able to fulfil his task, if he'd known. Nor Snape his.
He was quiet a moment, thinking, until Hermione picked up her paper again. “Is he here now?” She asked, looking around.
That brought back the feelings of doubt. “No-I guess he’s been staying with the Malfoys.”
Hermione grimaced. “That can’t be good.”
Harry made a face, nodding. “I know.” He sighed, looking at the pile of letters. “He’s supposed to help me later on, to figure out what to do about the press and my outing.” He looked at her hopefully. “Do you have any suggestions?”
“Harry,” Hermione cautioned, looking cross and tired, “This isn’t really my area of expertise.” She played with a strand of her hair. “But all the same . . . it might be interesting, and possibly beneficial, if you were to surprise everyone. You always tried to hide from the press, to avoid it. Maybe you should go out and actively embrace it? Do something nobody would ever expect of you?” She chuckled. “Would put Skeeter on her ear, at least, if you didn’t cower or blow your temper. She wants to make you weak. Be strong.”
That sounded downright brilliant. “Snape said the Slytherin thing to do would be to turn my weakness into my strength.” It was a frightening thought that Hermione and Snape could be coming to the same conclusion.
“Yes, exactly,” Hermione said, becoming more animated as she spoke. “It should be big and bold, show them that you’re not ashamed and that they can’t bully you. Something to astonish-and charm-both the press and the public.” She blew out a breath. “Not sure exactly what, though. A speech seems like it would be rather dry.”
A most interesting thought came to Harry. “I think I’ve got it. But I’ll have to see if Snape will agree to it.”
Hermione looked flummoxed, which meant it was absolutely a perfect idea, Harry decided. He grinned, his mind starting to whirl with the details. “What?” She asked, breathlessly.
He beamed at her. “A date. In public.”
***
Chapter Seventeen