nehalenia (nehalenia) wrote in lupin_snape, @ 2008-09-07 06:38:00 |
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Entry tags: | fic: nc17, prompt: fantasy fest 08 |
Fantasy Fest Fic: Dark Creatures -- Chapter 4
Title: Dark Creatures -- Chapter 4
Author:nehalenia
Rating:NC17 overall/NC-17 this part (for sex and Darkness)
Pairing: Lupin/Snape, Sirius/Snape, Lupin/Snape/Sirius
Word Count: 2400 (this chapter)
Challenge: Fantasy Fest 2008
Prompt: Snape has been cursed by Death Eaters and to avoid horrible pain, must be taken by a Dark Creature every day.
Warnings: AU, dark situation, pain, sex *points to prompt, esp the part that says horrible pain and taken by a Dark Creature*
Disclaimer: All characters are the property of JK Rowling and are most definitely not mine. This is for entertainment purposes only and no profit is being sought.
Author's notes: Blessings on ships_harry for her awesome beta skillz and blpaintchart for her equally awesome Brit-picking! Apologies for this part taking so long but school got awfully intensive this week. :-) More soon!
Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3
Remus Lupin knew something was wrong the moment he heard the muffled thunder of canine feet coming down the corridor.
To be fair, he had known something was wrong ever since Harry had shown up at his door with a pale, dazed and suddenly very much alive Sirius Black in tow. Welcome as it was, Lupin seemed to be the only one who suspected that Sirius’ return from the dead was not merely a miraculous event, but a portent: one of those fiery comets whose appearance, while remarkable in its own right, heralds some new upheaval. Consequently, Lupin had spent the entire week on edge, just waiting for the other shoe to fall. He had a feeling he wouldn’t be waiting much longer.
He was already shifting his chair back when Padfoot hurtled through the open doorway at a dead run, leapt an upended desk and then skidded into a tumble when he came down. Sirius transformed in mid-roll and sprawled onto the floor, heaving, eyes wild and his hair tangled about his face.
“Sirius, what on earth has happened?” Lupin hurried over to help him up.
“It’s Snape,” he panted hoarsely, grabbing the hand Lupin offered and struggling to his feet. “And it’s bad!”
“Snape?” Lupin repeated. Since his return, Sirius had been strangely quiet about his old nemesis, not even offering a sarcastic comment or rolling his eyes the few times Snape had come up in conversation. Lupin had even dared to hope their old rivalry might finally be at an end, but this – the look of desperate concern on Sirius’ face, the urgency in the pale eyes – was so improbable that Lupin had to question it. “Sirius, is this some kind of prank you’re pulling?”
“No!” Sirius insisted, looking even more frantic. “I mean it, Remus, it’s bad! He’s hurt or something—he’s on the floor, he’s in pain! He can’t—.” He broke off, frustrated, and shoved his hands into his wild hair. “Remus, I think he’s dying. He needs you, he—.” He panted to a halt once more, closing his eyes as if in pain. “You have to make it stop, Remus,” he said. “You have to.”
Lupin was surprised at how cold he suddenly felt – at how quickly the icy fingers clamped down on his heart and chilled his blood when he heard the words he’s dying and the words he needs you. He was surprised at how much it frightened him.
“Where is he?” His own voice sounded strange to him, hollow and distant.
“Potions classroom,” Sirius said, looking up with relief, maybe even hope in his eyes. “C’mon, I’ll—Remus!”
Lupin didn’t wait for him to finish. He was already running for the stairs to his office, grabbing the stone banister and taking the steps two at a time. He heard Sirius yelling behind him, and managed to pause long enough at the landing to shout “Sirius! Come on!” before dashing inside and heading for the Floo. He was snatching the Floo Powder off the mantel when Padfoot barrelled through the doorway after him and leapt to his side.
“Severus Snape’s office,” Lupin called out, casting the green powder into the hearth, and when the emerald flames surged and swirled, he grabbed Sirius by the ruff and pulled him into the Floo. It whirled them around and spit them out into Snape’s darkened office with its eerie specimen jars and charmed false windows, but before Lupin could orient himself, Sirius bounded across the room and was barking at the door. Lupin spelled it open with a wave of his wand and followed Sirius into the dim corridor, then down to the one doorway standing open.
Inside the Potions classroom, the work tables were arranged in perfect rows and nothing was out of place, but the hair on the back of Lupin’s neck prickled when he stepped through the door. “Severus!” he called out as he strode past shelves and desks to where false sunlight spilled from high magical windows at the front of the room. “Severus, where—Oh Merlin!”
Snape lay at the foot of the lectern in a pool of black robes, curled on his side, fists pressed to his face, rocking and moaning with each breath. The sight of him struck Lupin like a blow, and he stood speechless for three heartbeats, unable to reconcile the wretched figure before him with the proud, sleek, sneering wizard he had seen stalking the halls but a day or so before. Breaking free from his shock, Lupin dropped to his knees beside Snape, and took him by the shoulder.
“Severus!” he called to him, drawing one fist away to reveal Snape’s pallid, sweat-damp face twisted in a grimace of pain. “Severus, answer me!” he insisted, now understanding the urgency he’d seen in Sirius’ eyes. “What’s happened to you? What’s wrong?” Snape groaned weakly and tried to turn away, but Lupin took him by the jaw and turned him back. “Severus, look at me!” he said, and after a moment, Snape’s eyes opened to slits.
“Lupin,” he whispered, focusing on him, his voice barely audible.
“Yes, Severus, I’m here,” he confirmed, feeling a twinge of relief that Snape still had some of his wits about him. “Can you tell me what’s wrong? Is this a sickness, or a spell? Did something happen?”
He saw Snape close his eyes and swallow, then open his blood-tinged mouth – bitten through, Lupin realized with a pang. He’s bitten through his lip. -- to try to form a word. It was nothing but a breath and a hiss of syllables that Lupin couldn’t hear, much less understand.
“Severus, say it again,” he asked, leaning closer. “I can’t hear you.” He slipped his arm behind Snape’s shoulders to try and lift him up, then gasped and jerked his hand back as if he’d stuck it in a fire. He stared at his palm – unburned, unblemished – then down at Snape. A shock had gone through his hand and halfway up his arm when he’d touched Snape’s back – a sickening electric surge that left his flesh numb and throbbing, and the ghost of fire dancing along his nerves. Brief as it was, the pain had been so fierce it nearly turned his stomach, leaving him breathless and dizzy. He flexed his fingers, then focused past them on Snape, and felt the cold flood of recognition wash through him.
“No!” he hissed, shoving Snape onto his back and tearing his coat and shirt open. Buttons flew and skittered over the floor as Lupin yanked the fabric off Snape’s shoulders, then flipped him over onto his front. He bared Snape’s upper back, then reached down and carefully lifted his hair off his neck.
The mark was about the size of a Knut, and glowed like the lit end of a fag, cherry red and ashen, at the base of Snape’s neck. The knotted snake inscribed in the circle seemed to move, and the malevolence Lupin felt emanating from it was as terrible as the flash of pain had been. He had seen this mark before: once in the pages of an ancient book – though not any book at Hogwarts, or even in Britain at all – and once on the livid flesh of a corpse – a man tortured by it into madness and death. He knew what it was, and he knew what it meant for Snape – and for him.
“Oh dear God,” Lupin breathed, staring at what he’d hoped never to see again. “No. Severus—no.”
“Remus,” Snape panted, his face contorting, his hands curling into fists again. “Please.”
The whispered words went through Lupin’s chest like arrows. Severus Snape had used his given name. Severus Snape was begging him. Lupin let his head fall forward, squeezing his eyes shut, wanting to weep at the terrible irony. It isn’t fair! he railed silently, gritting his teeth against his horror and his helplessness, and feeling it smoulder into a blaze of anger. It isn’t—fucking—fair!
With a roar of outrage and frustration, Lupin seized Snape’s robe and coat tore them down his back with his bare hands, and then did the same with his shirt and trousers. Already panting through bared, clenched teeth, he shoved his own pants and trousers down enough to pull out his slack penis, then drew his wand and muttered a spell. He caught his breath as he felt the rush of blood to his groin, and had to steady himself as his cock immediately lengthened and filled, but he shook it off and seized Snape by the hips, dragging him back and trying to pull him up.
“Severus, help me!” he growled, trying to get Snape’s knees under him, but every muscle Lupin touched was trembling under the sweat-slick skin, and Snape was simply too weak to support himself. Cursing under his breath, Lupin eased Snape down and pushed his legs apart. He slicked his now straining erection with a quick lubrication spell, and then dropped his wand at Snape’s side as he slid between his legs. Steadying his shaft with one hand, Lupin pressed into the cleft of Snape’s arse until he felt the head lodge against the tight opening. “Hang on, Severus,” he whispered, and then pushed inside.
He was ready for what happened next: for the way Snape screamed and arched his thin back when he entered him; for the way he thrashed and panted, wild-eyed and open-mouthed, against the floor; even for the way the curse mark flared on Snape’s neck like a challenge.
He wasn’t ready for how good it felt.
It shouldn’t have felt good. Lupin didn’t want it to feel good, because in spite of what he was doing – in spite of the fact he was hilt-deep in Snape’s tight arse, and the man was trembling and sweating beneath him – this wasn’t sex. It was a travesty of sex demanded by the ugly rune burning on Snape’s back, and it had nothing to do with choice, or desire or pleasure. It was taking, and it had only to do with necessity, with the fulfilment of a cruel demand, with the cessation of pain.
But it did feel good – the desperate heat that gripped his cock, the slight body pressing back against him, even the gasps and whimpers that he could almost pretend were from pleasure instead of distress – and the shame of it made Lupin hang his head and close his eyes. With a growl, he pulled nearly all the way out and slammed back in so hard that it shoved Snape forward. That felt good, too.
“Damn it!” Lupin snarled, forcing Snape’s hips up and his legs further apart. “Tell me who did this to you?” he demanded. “Who?” Anger fuelled his thrusts as he pounded into Snape, his rage somehow making the pleasure of it bearable. “Answer me, Severus! Who?”
He was mad to think he’d get an answer. Snape’s mouth was gasping in time with Lupin’s thrusts, his long-fingered hands were braced against the floor, and his eyes were squeezed shut. Blood was seeping from his bitten lip, and moisture trickled from the corner of his eye. When his mouth finally formed a name, it wasn’t the answer Lupin wanted.
“Remus,” Snape breathed, eyelids fluttering just enough to show dark pupils glazed and frighteningly distant. “Just—make it—stop.”
“Oh, fuck, Severus!” Lupin moaned, his anger melting before the misery in those words. He could tell Snape was fading -- his voice growing fainter, his eyes more remote -- and Lupin felt a desperate need to hold on to him. Dropping forward onto his elbows, Lupin pressed his face into Snape’s shoulder and his chest against his back, his hips pumping furiously as he groped for his release. He couldn’t think about his anger, he couldn’t think about the curse mark on Snape’s skin, couldn’t think about how it got there or who put it there. He just had to make it stop. He bit down on Snape’s shoulder, tasting salt and pain, driving into him harder, faster, and deeper and growling with each savage thrust. He thought of nothing but how good it felt to be holding/biting/fucking Severus Snape, and he came in a blinding surge of pleasure , burying his moans in Snape’s skin.
When the shudders of Lupin’s release were past and he lifted his head, he realized Snape was slack and quiet beneath him. He felt a brief flash of alarm, but when he pulled back, he could see the pulse under Snape’s jaw and hear his light shallow breathing. Snape’s eyes were closed, his body was limp and only the harsh lines of his face echoed the anguish that had been there before.
“You passed out right when I came, didn’t you?” Lupin said softly, knowing Snape couldn’t reply. It didn’t matter. He knew the pain had stopped at that moment. Lupin reached up and brushed Snape’s hair off his neck. He knew what he would find there, too, but he still felt a pang of disappointment when he saw the mark. It still looked as if it had been branded into his flesh, but at least the lines were dull and dark instead of burning. For now.
“Oh, Severus,” Lupin murmured, letting the dark hair fall back to cover the mark. “What the hell have you done?” Again there was no answer, but Lupin reached out and traced a fingertip over the dark lashes resting on the thin cheek. He found them wet, and for some reason, that made him impossibly sad.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered, feeling his own eyes sting. “I don’t know how this happened, Severus, but I’m so sorry.”
Lupin was still looking at Snape when he heard the small whine, so he knew it didn’t come from him. He sat up and peered around. and was oddly shocked to see Padfoot huddled under one of the tables. His tail was tucked, his ears were down, his muzzle was on his paws and his eyes were very large. He looked as scandalized as a dog possibly could.
“Oh Merlin,” Lupin groaned, putting a hand to his head. He forgotten all about Sirius. “Forgive me, Pads,” he said, reaching down to fasten up his trousers. “I’ll explain all this as soon as I can. But for now,” he sighed, zipping up and looking back at Snape. “I think you’d best go find the Headmistress."
Padfoot, for his part, seemed glad to go.
~~