: Old ScoresAuthor
: non-conKinks chosen
: non-con, wallsex, anal, snarkWord Count
: The corridors of Hogwarts hold more than memories for Harry.Author's notes
requested Snape catches Harry wandering in Hogwarts at night - dub-con/non-con, wallsex, anal, snark. I love my beta, browneydweasley
with the firey passion of one thousand suns.
The twisting corridors of the castle felt cold at midnight in January, but Harry was warm inside. He crept through thick darkness, making his way by wand light. The prickling pain in his stomach, which signified his increasing desperation and had become as familiar to him as the throbbing of his scar, was temporarily absent. He was back at Hogwarts. He was home.
He indulged himself and flopped against the wall, letting the cool stone against his cheek soothe him and distract him from the grinding exhaustion that held his body like a vice. Inhaling slowly through his nostrils, he let the cacophony of familiar smells – dust, herbs, and undertones of the perspiration of hundreds of students -- prod his memory: Quidditch, parchment, feasts and trials; joy, friendship, sorrow and death. No more than nine months had passed since he'd been a student here himself, yet he felt years older.
There were two Horcruxes that were now stashed in a place that he hoped and prayed, was actually as safe and secure as Hermione promised it was -- two Horcruxes that had cost Ron an eye and Hermione her sanity, until, with Tonks's help, they'd finally managed to find the right potion. It had been a miracle, really. Harry had felt his own mental stability fall onto very shaky ground as he watched his friend writhe and twist in the bindings that kept her from scratching the skin off her face with her own nails. Ron hadn't blamed him. How could he? But Harry knew that if Hermione hadn't recovered, Ron never would have forgiven him, either.
She had recovered, however, and now she was tucked up in bed at the Burrow, being ferociously nursed back to health by Mrs. Weasley. As this particular mission was less difficult and dangerous than the things they'd gone through before, Harry had told Ron to stay by Hermione's side. Ron had protested, of course, so Harry slipped out in the night.
He was going to do this by himself. Ron and Hermione could have a rest. It made Harry sick that so far they had been the ones to suffer the worst repercussions of his quest. It had been his stupid mistake to leave the cloak on the tower, so he'd come back to retrieve it on his own. They did need it. They'd never make it past the sentinels guarding the third Horcrux without it.
His eyes closed, Harry rubbed his cheek against the stone, enjoying the sensation, the way it scratched against his skin. He'd felt so unreal lately. All his needs and desires focused so sharply on his quest, that there hardly seemed to be any Harry left inside him.
It was good to be back at Hogwarts. He felt like himself again here.
He pushed himself away from the wall, and began to head towards the Astronomy tower. Suddenly, he felt a prickling on the back of his neck and a stirring of air. Someone was standing close to him. He froze.
There was a smell – something familiar and disturbing he couldn't pinpoint, that made him feel inexplicably angry – and then a slight slithering in the back of his jeans. Harry spun around, shouting out. No one was there.
Blinking, Harry peered into the murky night air, which was illuminated only by the full moon shining in through the windows. After a second or two, his hand shot to his back pocket. It was empty; his wand was gone. He spun around, panicking, but saw nothing and no one.
Laughter. Not Peeves.
He shot forwards towards the sound and felt something silky brush against his side. He reached out blindly, but whatever it was had gone.
Where exactly was his invisibility cloak? Harry turned again and began to rush towards the Astronomy tower in earnest. After only three steps, however, he found himself face down tasting the blood that had burst from his lip when he smacked into the floor. He'd been tripped. He was sure of it
Shakily, he pushed himself to his feet. Now, he was both scared and dazed. He threw his hands out in front of him wiggling his fingers, snatching at the air, trying to find whoever was tormenting him.
Something smacked into the side of his head. Rubbing his cheek, Harry saw a stone wobbling on the floor at his feet.
He tore away from the spot, running as fast as he could. Heavier footsteps than his own thundered behind him. He sped up, now heading towards the Room of Requirement, hoping it would provide him with a means of escape. He didn't get far.
The next thing he knew, he was pinned against the wall, feeling the cold stone against the back of his neck. It was no longer soothing, but felt rough and icy. Kicking and writhing, he struggled frantically against arms and hands which he couldn't see.
A silky voice floated though the night, "Obsequium,
" and a warm, heavy feeling coursed through Harry's muscles. He couldn't move. He felt soft and floppy.
He barely noticed. It was the voice; he knew that voice.
No. It couldn't be. Not here.
He heard the sound of another spell being cast and felt his clothing vibrate before it momentarily glowed and then vanished. Panic made him try to struggle, but it was no use. He simply didn't have the strength to move his arms or legs.
Fingers tickled up his chest, reaching his throat and squeezing. He had just enough energy to blink his eyelids, and he began to flutter them frantically. When a hand curled around his balls, he felt his skin grow hot. What was this? What was going on?
There was a rustling sound and Harry saw something pink and fleshy appear in the air inches in front of his waist. If he'd been able to move he would have rubbed his eyes. His mind, for the moment, felt as frozen as his body. The object moved forwards, towards him, and Harry felts its warmth and silky texture rubbing against his bare skin.
The realisation was accompanied by a sickening fear that he'd never before experienced on any of his adventures. As the object was pulled away from him again he stared at it, praying that somehow he was wrong, but, no, he'd been right. A long, thick, veined cock was protruding from under what must be Harry's own invisibility cloak. Its head, peeping purple and wet from within the foreskin, poked against Harry's thigh. Harry felt the back of his throat burn as bile rose from his stomach.
His lips trembled as he tried to speak, to say, "No," to protest and plead. But it was no use. He was only able to helplessly feel his body being manipulated by his unseen attacker. His legs were lifted, his thighs spread apart. There was a pause, and then something cold and slimy was being rubbed into his inner buttocks. When the fingers actually penetrated his arse, pushing upwards, twisting and pressing, he thought he might vomit. His chest was burning with fury, hatred and fear.
Then, the fingers slid out of him and were replaced by what Harry assumed must be the head of his assailant's cock. It pushed into him, burning and stretching him, forcing a weak, inadvertent whine out of the back of his throat. He'd feared many things during his quest. He'd worried about being killed or maimed by a curse, being torn apart by Inferi, being eaten by a Manticore, but it never even occurred to him that he might be... raped.
His attacker thrust his cock further into him, and then again, until he was fully sheathed. Harry felt like he must be torn and bleeding. It just felt so wrong
. As the man began to move, to pump into him harshly, gripping his shoulders, Harry managed to squeeze his eyes closed. He'd wait it out; who or whatever it was that was hurting him would finish and then it would be over. He hoped it would be over quickly.
"Were you a virgin, Potter? That's rather sweet, if not particularly surprising. I feel honoured to be the one to take your virginity."
There was no hiding from it any longer. The man raping him was Severus Snape and it was intolerable. Harry put every ounce of strength he had into trying to struggle. Small, whimpering sounds came from his mouth but the best he was able to do was slightly tense his muscles. Snape laughed and continued pounding into him. The rough stone wall scraped against Harry's back as the movement rubbed him against it.
"You were careless, as always, Potter," gasped Snape. "You seem to consider yourself blessed, impervious to the pain the rest of us take for granted. But you are not." Snape sped up, grunting, and Harry heard himself keen quietly. His mind was full of black explosions and his body fruitless adrenaline.
"Your arse is so firm and tight." Harry felt Snape lean in towards him, felt the silky feel of the cloak's fabric brush again his ear as Snape continued, "You have no idea how much I'm enjoying this."
Tears of rage and helplessness slid slowly down Harry's cheeks. He couldn't handle this; it was intolerable. He wanted to be unconscious or Obliviated.
"If your father could see you now… if he knew what revenge I'd take…" Snape seemed to lose the power of speech as he began to thrust wildly into Harry. The pain was excruciating, the humiliation worse. Finally, Snape moaned and Harry felt his arse flooded with hot liquid.
Snape breathed against him, holding him flat against the wall, and then finally pulled out with a sickening squelch. Harry fell to the floor.
Slowly, the invisibility cloak was pulled to the side, revealing first Snape's head and then his shoulders and the rest of his body. He tossed the cloak aside and pointed his want at Harry. "Finite Incantatem
Harry could move again, and he would have rushed at Snape and tore him apart with his bear hands if he hadn't been at wandpoint. "You sick bastard," he gasped, wiping tears angrily off of his face. "How dare you mention my father. He'd kill you if he knew. And I will
"There, there. Not quite the man the world considers you to be, are you Potter? A little bit of sex turns you into a snivelling wreck. Tsk, I despair for the future of the wizarding world if this," he gestured towards Harry, "is the best hero
we can hope for."
Harry almost spat. "I supposed you'll be taking me to Voldemort now. You may have fooled Dumbledore but I always knew you were nothing but an evil, slimy…"
Snape laughed again. "Take you to the Dark Lord? No, Potter, I am not one of his minions. If I was going to hand you over, I would have done it last year. We have the same objective, you and I, to see and end to him
once and for all. No, I wouldn't expect someone with such a pedestrian mind to understand. But hear this," he leaned downwards and pressed his wand into Harry throat. Harry stared up at him through bloodshot eyes, beaming hatred at him with all his heart. "Take what I did to you as a lesson. Use it to make you stronger. We have no need of a soft hero."
"I will make you suffer first," replied Harry. "I will show you no mercy."
The side of Snape's mouth curled upwards. "We shall see. And now, I leave you to go forth and save the wizarding world, like the chosen one
I incessantly hear you described as. We shall meet again. And then, we shall see who is made to suffer."
With that, Snape turned in a swirl of black fabric and disappeared down the hall.
Harry took a minute, waiting for his head to clear, for the screaming in his mind to die down. He stood and collected the invisibility cloak, cradling it to his chest, taking comfort from its softness. He had to get past this. He couldn't let it stop him.
Sometime later he realised that he'd been standing, immobile for quite a long period of time. He shook his head, and began to pad down the hall towards the entrance hall. At one point he found his clothes lying in a pile in the middle of the floor. He put them on, wincing as he pulled up his boxers. The great front doors were cracked open. He pushed his way outside, and saw his wand lying on the top step. He picked it up, rubbing his fingers along it, feeling somewhat whole again.
He stuffed the invisibility cloak into his robes and began the long walk towards the gates. He would tell no one what Snape had done to him. What good would it do? But if Snape honestly believed that he'd make it to the end of his life without getting his comeuppance, he was sorely mistaken.