|snarryhols (snarryhols) wrote in snarry_holidays,|
@ 2007-11-15 11:26:00
|Entry tags:||au: book 7, fic, rated: nc-17|
In the Dark, for stonegrad
Title: In the Dark
Word Count: 1363
Pairing: Harry/Snape, Harry/Draco, Harry/others
Warnings: DH Spoilers, non con, bondage, bloodplay, implied incest
Disclaimer: I don't own anything so please don't sue me.
Summary: A botched escape leaves Harry at the mercy of the Death Eaters.
The soft sound of a sliding lock and the briefest of flickers in the wards have Harry awake instantly. His limbs are strained and numb, with ankles and wrists against the small of his back and bound together in too-tight rope that razes his skin. Trying to relieve the painful press of his bony hips into the stone floor, Harry shifts. A large, meaty hand grabs him by the hair and twists his head back with a violent, jerky movement.
From his crooked view, Harry can only see slick, oily brown hair and one hazel eye above a faded scar. He doesn't know this Death Eater, only that the man must have accomplished some great and bloody task to Voldemort's liking.
"Skinny piece of filth, aren't you?" the man asks, his breath reeking of boiled cabbage. "Hardly any meat to grab hold of."
The man shoves Harry's head down, nearly smashing his face into the floor. There's the swishing of fabric as the Death Eater walks around him, jabbing his wand at the bindings.
There. Even if it's coming from this dirty murderer, it's still magic and Harry arches into it, aching for the feel of magic against his skin.
The Death Eater slaps Harry's arse hard as his ankles clumsily fall out of their bindings. "Who knew you'd be such a slut?" he chuckles, and again, magic washes over Harry as his knees lurch forward and under him, raising his arse into the air. The man slaps Harry again.
Then there is no more magic, just the sounds of harsh grunting and the slick fwap of the Death Eater's hips against Harry. The quick, brutish fucking crushes Harry's cheek into the stone floor, scraping his face bloody. The man grips Harry's hips in a tight painful hold as he groans loudly, emptying himself into Harry.
The door to Harry's cell bangs open. "Your time's up, Ryker," another man announces. "You better remember the Dark Lord's exceeding kindness in granting you this gift." The Death Eater--Ryker--pulls out roughly. The other man sniffs. "And clean up your mess, unless you want to also be treated to the Dark Lord's displeasure."
A cleaning spell, harsh and painful and wonderfully magical, rakes over Harry. The door slams shut and Harry sighs, angry at himself for longing after a Death Eater's magic and angry at the Death Eater for leaving him with his arse in the air.