Snape Redux

Snape Redux

By April Grey

Chapter One - Exhaustion

It all belongs to Rowling, except for the parts you don’t recognize.

AN: Takes place after Book Six – Half Blood Prince. Don’t read if you don’t want spoilers.


He Apparated directly to his downstairs living room from the Death Eater celebration. The room was cramped and untidy—he didn’t mind, in fact rather liked it like that. It was home. He threw himself into the chair, his body trembling with nerves and exhaustion. So it was over, Albus Dumbledore was dead, and so it had begun, the final chapter of the sad, miserable little life of Severus Snape, last scion of the Snapes and the Princes.

He hadn’t slept in two days. And though his eyes burnt with keeping them open, his body needed release. He went up the stairs to his bedroom and pulled off the stained and hex scarred robes. He walked down the hall and showered. As usual the pipes rattled and the water turned cold before he could get the soap out of his hair.

In the middle drawer of the old walnut dresser he found the pair of 40-year-old levi jeans and a t-shirt. In the wardrobe was a button down white shirt, also of the era. He dressed quickly, slipping on a dirty pair of trainers and a tan trench coat from the fifties. Transfiguring his wand to a signet ring, Snape left his family home and walked down the empty streets. Four and a half streets away was a large building which had once been a factory. He knocked on a graffiti sprayed door.

It opened at once and a man with dreads and a gold tooth answered, “What be you wantin’?” The smell of marijuana floated out mixed with strains of Bob Marley.

“Is Vanessa available tonight?”

“Ah’ll check, Mon. Come in and make yourself at home. You know there’s a new girl, if Vanessa is busy.”

Snape shook his head and his eyes slid to the ground. “I’ll pay extra for her and I’m willing to wait. I want the whole night.”

“Vanessa don’t usually do that.”

“Tell her it’s Toots—she’ll remember me.” He slipped the man ten quid.

Snape didn’t normally throw around his money. But tonight it would be worth it. He wanted to sleep and he didn’t want to sleep alone. The wait was a short one. The man, grinning from ear to ear, nodded at the stairs. “Third door to the right.”

Snape silently walked past him.

“Anytime, Mon.”

The door was slightly ajar and Snape walked into the room. It was painted in light blue and had a dark blue Indian Batik bedspread over the queen-sized bed. Breathing in the smell of sandalwood incense helped something in Snape’s belly began to relax. He heard a toilet flush and running water and then a door to the left opened. Vanessa walked in. Though tall with a slender waist, her breasts and hips were full. She reminded Snape of a bronze statue of Shiva come alive. She wore a red silk caftan and Snape knew there would be nothing underneath. The bright red of her outfit contrasted nicely with the darkness of her skin. Her hair was tightly braided against her skull and her eyes were large and exotic, outlined heavily in kohl. A jeweled bindi sparkled from her forehead. Her accent placed her from the West Indies, but she had told him once that her family was from India.

“Long time no see, Toots,” said Vanessa with a smile.

Snape swallowed his feeling of delight. He tried never to see any whore more than once or twice. This was the fifth time he’d been to her in as many years. “Been busy.” Snape crossed to the bed and began to slip off his trainers.

“No, no, Mr. Toots. You let Vanessa take care of you. I can see you been carrying a load of troubles on your back.” She caressed his shoulders and Snape wondered if he’d made a mistake in giving in to his weakness to see her again.

The gentle kindness of her tone made Snape want to cry. Sometimes he did that with his whores. He only went to Muggles, wouldn’t want to run into any Wizarding folk, and there was something about his anonymity that allowed him to forget himself and his normal caution. He leaned back on the bed as she removed his trainers and then gently massaged his feet. He closed his eyes as her hands ran up against his legs and to his hips.

“Vanessa remembers what you like,” she said as she unzipped his jeans and removed him. Her mouth easily took in his long length as she slowly bobbed her head up and down. Her sharp, red painted nails drew out his sac and gently massaged him. When she felt his balls tighten, she paused and looked up at him. He nodded, and she continued, speeding her pace and pushing one finger back to massage the sensitive spot between his balls and anus.

His fingers clasped the bedspread as he came in her mouth. She licked him clean.

“That was good Toots. You want to take your little nap now?”

Snape pushed off his jeans, revealing skinny white legs covered with wiry black hair. There were old scars and some newer pink ones that showed the result of a hex or two that he had deflected but not quite disarmed in the battle two days ago. He lay back on the bed. Vanessa pulled him into her arms and stroked his neck and back. True to his usual pattern, he was able to sleep about for nearly three hours.

When he woke up, he began to rub his semi-erect penis against her silk covered thigh.

“Ah, Toots. Feeling randy again?”

Snape grabbed hold of her caftan and drew it up over her head. His breathing came faster as he stared at the perfection of her large breasts. He pinched one and then bent down to rub his face in the hollow between them, enjoying the fragrance of her body.

Vanessa let him be in charge this time, as he explored her skin with his, chest to chest and legs against legs. When his penis was once more heavy and fully engorged, he brought her legs up and over his shoulders.

He brusquely pushed into her and she grunted as he hit her cervix.

“Ah, you so big and powerful. Have pity on me,” she quipped.

He smiled at that and pushed himself even harder into her. She gave a little scream and scratched down the sides of his torso.

“Yes. More of that,” he husked and continued to fuck her.

Her nails drew blood and she hated to do it because until she’d have a chance to wash her hands she’d feel unclean with his blood beneath her fingernails. But she understood her clients. He liked having just a little pain, not too rough, not real S&M. Vanessa made clear that he’d have to go elsewhere if he wanted more. He said he only wanted a little. Vanessa had a good memory for her customers and made a good profit from the repeat trade.

“Oh, you going to split me open with that mighty cock o’ yours,” she gave a little scream for extra effect. She was a good actress and her pretence worked well sending him over the edge of his climax.

After a few sweaty moments, he pulled out and stared at her. Finally he found the words, “Thank you.”

She smiled. He’d never said that before. “You look more rested now.”

He touched the scratches on his sides and looked at the blood and sighed.

Vanessa sensed that something was amiss. “Toots, you in some sort of trouble? I see it there in your face.”

“It’s my last time here and I just wondered if you’d do something special for me?”

“No. You know, I don’t do rough trade. You go down the hall for that.”

Crestfallen and a bit lost, he said, “I’m sorry. I forgot.”

“Did you now?”

He nodded.

She pulled him close to her breast. “Now, now. You don’t be deserving any punishment. You be hurting too much already. You just need some loving, that’s all. You more scared of the gentle stuff than the pain; don’t you know that? But the gentle stuff, that is what you get here. That’s why you came back.” She stroked his cheek and he gave a small sob. She continued to rub his neck and shoulders as he dry sobbed. “Just let it out, let it out.”

He fell asleep again, clinging on to his whore like a lost child. In his sleep he started to cry out, “No, I won’t do it. Don’t make me.”

Vanessa held him and stroked small circles on his back. Toots. She called all of her clients Toots, but this Toots was a funny one. All needy and filled with more anguish than most of her Toots, she wondered who he was and where he came from. Most clients she could figure out. But here he was in his antique clothing and long hair and dark sad eyes, and she couldn’t help but wonder what other world he’d crawled out from.

Her eyes went to the clock and saw she’d been dozing, still holding him. His sleep was deep and regular. Suddenly he began twitching, his face contorted with a bad dream. Something told her to get away, and grabbing her caftan she sprung from the bed just as sparks shot out from his fingers.

She stared wide-eyed at him. What world indeed? With a start he woke.

“You okay, Toots? You done been having a bad dream.”

“I should leave.” His eyes had a heavy lidded, haunted look and Vanessa shivered.

“You still got some time left.” She smoothly came over to him and put a hand on his leg. Smiling to reassure him, she leaned over his limp prick and breathed on it. It gave a little stir. “Still some life there, too,” she whispered before wrapping her hand around his length and letting her thumb massage beneath the tip and play with his foreskin. He sucked in his breath and his hips jutted outward in response. Her expert touch brought him rapidly back to hardness.

Lying back on the bed, he pulled her up and over him. She gave him a quizzical look. He was not following his usual schedule.

“Touch my chest,” his voice was raw with need.

She stroked around his nipples and using her thumbs teased them to dark pink. Snape groaned and Vanessa knew she was doing it right.

He lifted her hips up and over his cock and then forced her down hard on him. She gasped as he filled her. Still holding her hips he set a punishing rhythm. Vanessa watched him. His eyes were closed and his face contorted with passion. On instinct she reached back and cradled his balls in her hand.

“Yes, hard,” he gasped as he continued to thrust up into her.

She let her nails play with his sac before slowly tightening her grip on them. She was worried that she might injure him, but he was looking for pain, something to outwardly match whatever inner demon was tormenting him. She massaged and squeezed, massaged and squeezed each time tightening her fist a little more.

His breath was coming in deep sobs and she gave a last squeeze and a small twist. Hurt him, no, that wasn’t part of her job, but she let him feel a little bit of whatever it was he was looking for.

A scream tore from his throat and his hips pushed even harder up and into her. His face contorted with agony as he shot his wad into her.

She relaxed her hand and watched large tears sliding out from under his closed eyelids.

She didn’t usually pity her customers, but this fellow was holding onto some bad mojo. He was right; they wouldn’t be seeing each other again. She’d send him down the hall from now on.

She went into the bathroom to clean up. She knew by the time she came back into the room, he’d be gone and a very generous amount of money would be on the table.

She was right.

Dawn was attempting to break through the lowering sky as Snape walked down the shabby streets to his ancestral home. He was a street and a half away when he picked up the thoughts of a fellow wizard. The man was nervous about being in Snape’s house, waiting to ambush Snape.

Remus Lupin, the stupid werewolf was a broadcaster in times of stress and he never even knew it. It was his lycanthropic curse, as he got closer to the full moon his emotions heightened and one could sense him from quite a distance.

Others were there with him in Snape’s home. Lupin was conflicted, hoping that Snape wouldn’t come home, not wanting to be the one to have to take his old friend to Azkaban.

Friend! Snape snorted, the damned creature wanted everyone to love him. Snape was not Lupin’s friend and never had been in any way, shape or form. And yet, Lupin was right now doing him a favor alerting Snape to his presence. Would he have been trapped when he came home? Well, it was good to have so much notice. Idly he wondered if they had caught Wormtail. That would be nice.

Lupin’s thoughts then centered on Tonks and how good she’d smelled in her arousal earlier that night when he’d left her. Snape was sickened. Yes, werewolves were disgusting creatures and shouldn’t be suffered to live.

Not daring to stay any longer, Snape Apparated to a safe house for Death Eaters in Knockturn Alley. The flat was a piece of shite where you couldn’t even get a window to open, but it was better than having to hide in alleyways like a Muggle vagrant.

Vagrant! That was what Snape had become. There would be no returning to his old home. This shouldn’t be happening to him. That was his safe house from the Ministry and Order.

Had someone, Bellatrix perhaps, tipped them off? Or had the murder of the Headmaster of Hogwarts made things a bit too hot for the Dark Lord and his Death Eaters? Now that Snape had fulfilled his purpose, was he expendable?

He sat on the ramshackle old couch and a cloud of dust flew up. He did a housecleaning spell. Dust and mites disappeared, but they’d be back. It wasn’t a very good spell. He walked into the kitchen. Being a hidey-hole for selfish Death Eaters, there was no food to be had at all—not even an old teabag! However, he found a cobweb-strewn bottle of fire whiskey hidden behind a bookshelf. The half inch of liquid warmth left in the bottle painfully hit his empty belly and he regretted the lack of food.

And money. He had very little left of his Muggle money in his pockets. A bit too generous he’d been, always had been with her.

His account at Gringotts would have been frozen by now, and he had no way to get past the Aurors to the money he had hidden in the basement of his house. He had a few Galleons hidden away in one or two more spots, but had no way of changing the currency into Pounds Sterling. Sadly, the only money changers disreputable enough to do so for the man who killed Dumbledore, were also disreputable enough to take his money, put a binding spell on him and hand him over to the Aurors for a second reward. His being a reputed Death Eater wouldn’t help him there.

The Malfoys could have lent him some money but with Draco also on the run, Narcissa would probably be keeping a tight rein on the family’s purse strings.

He was knackered, hungry and nearly broke. He put his feet up on the couch and fell asleep.

He awoke to voices coming from the next room.

“It will be simple, I tell you.”

Snape didn’t immediately recognize the voices, but then.

“Why the Dark Lord wants it kept quiet, I wonder?” Snape recognized the voice of Rabastan Lestrange.

“I don’t know. Why didn’t he just ask Snape to do this? He’s the Golden Boy now,” said the voice that Snape thought might be Jugson.

“I’ll bet the Dark Lord don’t trust anyone that much. The higher you rise the greater the fall, an’ you don’t put yer eggs all in one basket, right?” Lestrange sounded proud of his insight to the Dark Lord’s mind.

“So we got to do the finding.”

“Not that hard. You find three and I find three. That’ll give us the half dozen Neo… Neo... something sites.”

“Don’t even know how to pronounce it, much less where to start. Neo-lith-ic. Snape would be find ‘em in a tick. He’s got the brains for this sort of thing.”

“You want a Cruciatus Curse from the Dark Lord? Snape ain’t to know about it. I’m betting he’s a liability to us now.”

There was the sound of chairs being drawn up and the undoing of wrappers. The smell of fish and chips wafted through the apartment making Snape’s mouth water and his stomach rumble.

“So it’s even odds on the Chudley Cannons this year,” stated Lestrange through a mouth of food.

“Rubbish team, I say,” grumbled Jugson.

There was the sound of bottles being opened and more food eaten.

“Care to make a small wager?” said Lestrange.

Snape used his Legilimency on the two Death Eaters, not an easy task when he was in another room. Mostly he got images of food and money to be had from betting. He shivered a bit at Lestrange’s fleeting memory of Azkaban’s food, but delving deeper he found the answer he was looking for.

The Dark Lord had a found a spell that would let him enhance his power. But the spell needed to be cast in an ancient site similar to Stonehenge.

And the Dark Lord didn’t trust Snape enough to give him the research. He had left it to the two cretins in the kitchen. Snape would need to keep tabs on them to find out what names of places they would be giving to the Dark Lord. If he knew the Dark Lord though, he wouldn’t share the actual location until it was time for the battle to begin.

Still any information he could find out would go to the Order.

Snape mentally cursed. Thanks to Dumbledore’s most brilliant plan, Snape was in hiding from both the Ministry and Order. Even if he could give the information to them, coming from him it would be suspect and probably seen as disinformation.

He could try and plant the information in various members’ minds but, with the exception of Lupin who lacked control because of his curse, Aurors and Order members alike had been trained in rudimentary Occlumency. They would know if Snape or anyone was attempting to reach their mind and they could shut him out. Even the halfwit Potter could manage that now.

He needed an untrained mind: Someone who was an Order member but hadn’t yet been trained-- which left a choice between the two youngest Weasleys or Hermione Granger.

Ron or Ginny? Ginny was easily manipulated as one could see from her first year at Hogwarts. But she’d already experienced the Dark Lord’s touch and if there was any psychic connection remaining between her and the Dark Lord—no, no too dangerous. Snape sighed.

Weasley’s mind was cut off to him, brimming with raw hatred of Snape, much as Potter’s mind was. Snape regretted not having been a bit more neutral towards Potter’s friends.

Leaving Hermione Granger. The Know-it-all Muggle-born Witch had been from the start desperate to prove herself. She was too smart to be manipulated easily by lies. So one would have to feed her carefully selected truths and appeal to her need to please authority. However, his authority was gone, part of the sacrifice required by Dumbledore and Snape’s oath to Narcissa.

Still, Granger would be his best choice.

Snape heard a scraping of chairs in the kitchen. He crouched down and Apparated out of the room.


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