webmistresses (![[info]](https://www.insanejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} webmistresses) wrote in ![[info]](https://www.insanejournal.com/img/community.gif){kind=small} severus_sighs,@ 2011-02-15 09:34:00 |
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| Entry tags: | event: anti-valentine's day 2011, ficlet, member: whitecotton, pairing: severus/other(s), rating: pg-13 |
Lulled into Insecurity by WhiteCotton
Title: Lulled into Insecurity
Author: whitecotton
Pairing: Severus/others
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 800
Warnings: None
Summary: The third time is a dream.
A/N: Thanks to everyone who participated, as writers, artists or commenters.
Lulled into Insecurity
Suddenly, all was pitch-black stillness. No light, no sound, no words. Nothing. And yet Severus stayed where he was for an hour-long moment, curled up on the floor, arms wrapped tight around his bent knees.
He stayed like that until his breathing steadied and his eyes adjusted to the gloom. Then, slowly and carefully, he unfurled his tired limbs and stretched. His eyebrows snapped up in surprise at the lack of pain. This was not what he was expecting. With no less hesitation and caution than that attending his unfurling, Severus stood up and took stock.
He waved his arms, paused, shook his left leg, wiggling it around a bit, paused again, and took another stock. All seemed well, which was again surprising. He chuckled with relief and turned around, then around some more, faster. There was some discomfort about his shoulder and chest, but nothing more than discomfort. He could live with that.
He chuckled again, this time it ran on and on, veering towards hysteria. Slapping a hand across his mouth, he froze, then turned his head right and left, straining to hear anything. Still nothing.
Assured he was alone, he put his arms out and made blindly for the edge of the darkness. He found it soon enough – with his nose, against a protruding shelf. A muttered curse or two and Severus sidled along the wall, feeling his way until he came to a door. He grasped the handle, and waited.
What was on the other side of the door, he couldn’t recall. It could be the Lounge, his lab, or some other scene ... he wasn’t quite sure. Shaking his head of its fuzziness, he tried to remember what had happened in previous years. The darkness, the wall, and the door hadn’t been before, but then he usually awakened in the infirmary. No, this – this lack of pain, of misery – was new. As was the door.
But he wasn’t Head of Slytherin for nothing. Buckling up his nerve, he opened the door with one, smooth pull, and walked through it.
He was in a corridor. A corridor he recognised as the main thoroughfare of Severus Sighs. Even better. Not only had he escaped relatively unscathed, he was home. That thought brought him immeasurable courage; his heart finally thrummed to its normal beat, and the shakes faded from his hands.
Giving his shoulders the firm command to straighten, he strode purposefully along the corridor, past the row of mounted house-elf heads, and stopped at the door opposite. There, he paused, bending an ear to the wood, listening. He could hear nothing on the other side. All seemed quiet.
Too quiet, perhaps.
He frowned. This was not right. Not right at all. In fact, a sliver of unease was returning, playing a half-heard tune up and down his spine. Shivering slightly, he turned to look over his shoulder, but all he saw in the mirror next to the mounted house-elf heads was his pallid face reflected back at him.
Of course, he didn’t have to go in. Yes, he could go in ... or he could return to his Hogwarts’ rooms, or Spinner’s End, or even another place entirely. He didn’t have to go in. And yet ... he did.
This was ridiculous. Was he a man or a Gryffindor? Thus chastised, he smoothed his fingers along the edge of his robes, took a deep breath in, and then walked through the door.
That was his second mistake; the first was waking up in the first place. Although he wasn’t to know either for a short while.
As soon as he stepped over the threshold, arms flew from various directions to grab him and pull him and stroke him. After being forced headfirst into the annual horror that is the Anti-Valentine’s fest, Severus understandably felt fear spike at every pointy-fingered touch. Probably sensing this – or perhaps his growl hinted his displeasure – the hands, arms and fingers left him abruptly.
He leant back against the wall, his wand in his hand and aimed wide. The sound of a lock snapping home broke the silence, which was the moment he realised his mistake.
Facing him was Harry, Lucius, Remus, Sirius, and the full gamut of exes, all naked and holding a particularly memorable toy, paddle or whip. Severus gulped and closed his eyes, feeling very much out of his depth. He just hoped, as the first kiss landed, the day would end with complete unconsciousness.
Until that blessed state, he tried to ignore what seven hard cocks would do to him. Instead he ran through his catalogue of potions, poisons and all manner of revenge, picturing unimaginable tortures on the body of that git Valentine and his side-kick, Cupid Bastardus.
Such, for Severus, was St Valentine's Day, over for another year.