Entry tags:

fic, post-dh: ewe, rated: r

TAINTED, for yura_slash
Title: Tainted
Author: knightmare_shad
Giftee: yura_slash
Word Count: 2,507
Rating: Hard R
Pairing: Snarry
Warnings: DH spoilers, non-epilogue compliant, non-con, angst, ust, sexual situations
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoat Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Summary: Accused and brought before the Wizengamot, Severus’ fate rests with one Harry Potter.



The light was too bright, too harsh, and it made her eyes water, but that only helped. She sniffed delicately, dabbing at her eyes, keeping her gaze downcast. They were gentle in their questioning, but thorough, and her story stayed the same.

She’d been kept out of school by a worried mother. A seventh-year, she’d not worried about it, sure she could self study enough to pass her NEWTs. They’d attacked in the dead of the night, a horrible explosion of fear and pain, and she’d watched as her parents were tortured with Crucio, before she was knocked unconscious.

She woke to a dark room, and, until the Aurors rescued her, she stayed in that room. That was where he came to her, and where he forced himself on her, over and over. Her voice broke as she described him as best as she could, for having never seen him. Tall, thin, strong. Rough voice, sour mouth. She stopped then, overcome, unable to continue, and they sympathised with her; a female Auror even held her as she cried.

~*~

The brown folder slid across his desk, knocking into the pile of papers that he had perched precariously on the edge, causing no few of them to fall onto the floor.

‘Not so great at the paperwork, eh?’ Ron asked, grinning.

Harry shook his head, walking around his desk to pick up the fallen papers. ‘Tell me why I thought this was a good career choice?’

‘Don’t ask me; I’ve no idea why you didn’t go for Seeker of a professional team.’ Ron picked up the folder, not protesting when Harry snatched it from him. ‘Bad case?’

‘The worst. Capture and rape by a Death Eater.’ Harry frowned, sighing as he put it back on the desk.

‘Can you talk about it?’

Harry shook his head. ‘And I can’t go to lunch with you. We’re picking him up today.’

‘The attacker?’

‘Yeah,’ Harry snorted. ‘Severus Snape himself.’

Ron sympathised, and after making plans to meet later on in the week, he left. Harry gathered his team of Aurors and Apparated to Snape’s last known address.

The small cottage sat back from the lane, far enough to be secluded from the traffic and bustle of villagers. Harry couldn’t help but laugh at the rundown look of the place; the fence boards were warped and plenty were missing, the path overgrown and garden wild with vines and choked with weeds, the wooden planks of the house greyed and the paint curling off in wide peels—it all contributed to a very desolate and decrepit appearance. He guessed most people simply passed it by without a second thought, which would only serve to make the sour man inside pleased. The group of Aurors ringed the property, staying back as Harry had ordered.

He pushed his way past the gate and walked up the crumbling stones of the path, carefully picking his way across the rotted apron of the porch. There was no bell to wring, and frowning, Harry knocked sharply, cursing slightly under his breath at the stinging in his knuckles.

He waited, shifting from foot to foot, growing more exasperated and impatient. Finally, he peeked in a window, and seeing nothing moving, he walked around the house. A greenhouse stood in the far corner of the back garden. Approaching it, he pushed the door open.

‘Whoever you are, you may leave, immediately.’

‘I wish I could.’

‘Potter.’

The single word was spoken with such venom that Harry felt a rush of familiarity. They’d never quite moved beyond the uneasy truce produced by the war. For Harry, it was more a matter of out of sight, out of mind, and it was more comfortable that way.

‘I need you to come with me, Snape. Officially.’

‘Whatever for?’

Harry stepped fully inside the greenhouse, taking a moment to breathe in the earthy musk of the air. He stared at Snape’s back; the man hadn’t even turned around to face him. ‘I’d rather discuss it back at the Ministry.’

Snape turned and looked at him then, his black eyes as piercing and cold as ever. Harry met his gaze head on, knowing full well Snape would find out whatever he wished. Nodding sharply, Snape wiped his dirt covered hands on a bit of cloth and sedately followed Harry from the greenhouse.

Harry had expected a bit more of a fight, actually, but Snape was complacent and docile. He sat silent and composed, neither denying nor admitting his guilt.

Harry stepped inside the interrogation room, nodding to the Auror currently handling the questioning, and with a few quiet words, sent him from the room.

‘Here.’ Harry pushed a cup of steaming tea towards Snape, smiling when the man unbent enough to accept it.

‘How long do you intend to hold me here?’ Snape asked, sipping his tea. He seemed unsurprised when Harry produced a tin of biscuits, selecting one and biting into it.

‘Did you do it?’

Snape made an impatient sound and regarded Harry with an impassive expression. ‘The young lady in question seems convinced of my guilt. Is that not enough for you?’

‘No.’ Harry leaned forward, daring to put his face close to Snape’s. ‘No, Severus, it’s not enough. Did you do it?’

‘Put me before the Wizengamot, Potter. I’ve a right to defend myself against these charges.’

‘The trial date’s already set. Until then, you’re coming with me.’

‘I don’t have a bed waiting for me at Azkaban?’

‘How can you joke about that?’ Harry asked, a bit stunned at the amusement in the man’s voice.

‘Potter, I’m surprised you even have to ask.’

~*~

Harry brushed the soot from his shoulders, stepping to the side to allow Snape to step through behind him. It had been surprisingly easy to get permission to confine him to Grimmauld Place; no one wanted him near other Death Eaters, and he still had the quasi-hero status that he’d obtained during the war. Should he be proven innocent, none of the Aurors wished to bear the blame for his imprisonment.

‘You can pick whichever room you want.’

‘Truly? Very well.’ Snape stared at Harry, who coughed slightly.

‘I’ll—uh—leave you to get settled. Care for some tea?’

‘Whisky would be more welcome.’

‘Right, then. Meet me in the kitchen.’

Harry left him then, heading into the dubious sanctuary of the kitchen. He had no fear that Snape would attempt to leave; the house had been sealed, warded and set with so many magic spells to prevent that very thing that Harry doubted even an ant could sneak out.

Sighing, he pulled two glasses from the cupboard, rummaging around until he found a bottle of whisky left over from Remus’ last visit. He poured both glasses and turned around, almost dropping them when he realised Snape was standing right behind him.

‘Will you stop that?’

‘Stop what?’ Snape calmly took his glass, giving Harry an inquiring look as he sat at the table.

‘Sneaking up on me.’ Harry sat down as well, cradling his glass in his hands. ‘Severus?’

‘Yes?’

‘Did you?’ Harry wouldn’t look at him. He stared at the amber liquid as if it would give him the answers he sought.

‘I honestly don’t know.’

‘What does that mean?’

‘You have a brain, Potter. Use it.’

Harry glared at him as he stood abruptly and left the kitchen.

They had only a few days until the trial. Harry sighed as he slid into his bed, linking his hands behind his head and staring at the ceiling. He knew Snape was capable of horrible things, had spent most of his school career being mistreated by the man, but this seemed even beyond him. Harry’d had nightmares after hearing the girl’s story, and he simply couldn’t imagine the same man who’d loved his mother, and had been loved in return, committing such acts of brutality. Sighing, he slipped into slumber, his thoughts still unsettled.

Dark was all around him, suffocating him, pushing him down. He could feel hands too, holding him down, ripping at him, punishing and painful. He screamed, thrashing, trying with all his might to get away, to…

‘Potter!’

With a groan, Harry sat up, running his hand over his sweaty face. In the half-dark of his room, he could just barely make out the form that filled his doorway. ‘Did I wake you up?’ he asked, his voice raspy.

‘No, Potter, I’m asleep. You’re merely dreaming me.’

‘Does that mean you’re going to start the strip-tease again?’ Harry joked. He could have sworn he heard a small laugh before the shape disappeared.

~*~

He knew he shouldn’t have. He knew that pressing Severus was a bad idea. The man was as churlish and sour as always, his demeanour having grown no softer or more pleasant in the passing years. But Harry felt, somehow, that if he pushed, just enough, he’d get the answer. Some part of him was afraid of it.

And so he pushed. And needled. And in the following days, he did not once let Severus have more than a moment of peace. He kept seeing the girl’s tear-streaked voice in his mind, heard her screams in his sleep at night. It was almost a ritual now, for Severus to wake him up, pull him from those dreams.

He was unprepared when Snape lunged forward, his hands driving Harry back into the mattress, startling a squeak from him.

‘Enough, brat.’

‘What?’

‘You want to know if I did it? If I could?’

Harry struggled, but couldn’t push Severus off, as the other man straddled him, pinning him to the bed.

‘Tell me, Harry, do you think I could have raped that poor, little girl?’

Harry turned his head, closing his eyes at the soft purr that ghosted over the sensitive shell of his ear. He was embarrassed and ashamed by his body’s reaction to Severus; he was panting slightly, and could feel his cock hardening.

‘I don’t want to,’ he whispered. ‘Please.’

‘Please?’

‘Get off me.’

‘I don’t believe I shall.’

Harry turned to glare at him, moaning slightly as Severus’ mouth covered his. He could kiss, Harry granted him that, and he couldn’t keep from responding. It’d been so long since he’d been with anyone, anyone at all, over two years since his failed relationship with Ginny, and he’d had no real contact since then.

Severus’ hand slid under his pyjama shirt, and as he pinched Harry’s nipple, he broke away from his mouth to nip at his neck. Harry gasped, no longer fighting. Severus slid his way down Harry’s body, licking, touching, sucking…

Harry arched up into the hot mouth that surrounded him. It had been so long, too long, and he couldn’t last, couldn’t hold on…

‘Well, I must say, this is a change from the screaming.’

Gasping, Harry shot up in bed, blinking at Severus’ form in the doorway. He hoped the other man couldn’t see the blush on his cheeks as he tried to hide the evidence of his orgasm, but he had a sinking feeling Severus knew exactly what had happened.

‘Tell me, Harry, just what were you dreaming, to make you call out in such a voice?’

‘I…I called out?’

‘Yes.’

‘What? What did I say?’

A laugh was his only answer, and groaning in frustration, Harry climbed from bed to clean up.

~*~

He couldn’t explain his dream, or how he was suddenly intimately aware of Severus’ presence beside him. He shivered in the cool air of the dungeon, resisting the urge to rub his arms. Severus was calm, of course, maddeningly calm. It drove Harry insane, made him want to break that veneer, to drive the man to the edge. He sighed, shifting slightly on the bench behind Severus’ chair.

‘Now, I realise this is difficult for you, but we do need you to tell us what happened.’

Again, haltingly, the girl related her story. She refused to look at Severus, keeping her eyes glued to her hands as she twisted a handkerchief in her fingers. Severus remained impassive during her tale, ignoring the harsh looks and mutters directed his way.

After she finished, the courtroom was hushed, silent but for a few murmurs. Harry stood, moving swiftly in front of the girl. He didn’t doubt her story, but he did doubt her accusation against Severus. Something, and he prayed it wasn’t his own desires, rebelled against that thought.

‘Mr Potter?’

‘I just want to ask some questions…’

‘Your support of Snape is well known, Potter.’ Harry turned to stare at Umbridge, his eyes cold. ‘Just like Dumbledore, you’re blinded by that foul creature.’

‘Blinded? By the man who made it possible for me to win the war and destroy Voldemort?’ Harry glared around the room. ‘And no,’ he continued, raising his voice to be heard over the protests, ‘I am not exaggerating.

‘You never saw who attacked you, did you?’ he asked the girl, his voice softer, now. When she shook her head, he continued, ‘how do you know it was Snape?’

‘I…they looked at my memories. Saw who it was, even if I couldn’t.’

‘Memories? Why wasn’t I allowed to see these memories?’

‘They’ve been reviewed, Potter. The man responsible for this horrendous crime is sitting right in front of us,’ Umbridge said.

‘I want to see.’

Though Umbridge fought it, the court decided to give into him and Harry soon stood in front of the swirling liquid. The waiting crowd was silent as his body stood, face in the liquid, for what seemed an eternity. Finally, he pulled his face free, his skin pale and his expression pained.

‘The memory has been altered…’

As the crowd exploded into uproar, Harry released Severus and turned to face the girl. ‘Your attacker is already dead. I’m sorry you never got to face him, but he died on the same day as Voldemort.’

Before anyone could stop him, Harry disappeared with Severus.

~*~

Severus swirled the whisky in his glass, staring over it at Harry. He smirked at the boy as he flushed and looked away.

‘Thinking of dreams, Potter?’

‘Something like that,’ Harry muttered.

‘And tell me, Harry, just what is you dream of?’

Harry merely flamed, refusing to answer. He was frozen as Severus stood and approached him, allowing the man to grip his chin and tilt his face up. Severus’ lips were thin against his own, but, just as in his dream, his kiss was intoxicating and arousing.

Harry moaned, bringing his hands up to fist in Severus’ robes.

‘Not bad, boy. Have you ever?’

‘Ever had sex?’ Harry’s voice broke and his cheeks burned bright red at Severus’ laughter. ‘Not with a bloke, no. Uh…are we going to?’

Severus’ fingers tightened on his chin and Harry met his gaze head on. ‘Was that memory altered?’

Already anticipating the night before him, Harry gave the only answer he could. ‘I don’t know, Severus. I just don’t know.’