Caged.

Author’s note: This is an alternative chapter 20 of PoA, and will grow into an alternative end of PoA as well as a different book four. I’ve written about fifty pages already and will upload them over the next weeks. The first paragraph is by J.K. Rowling. If anybody has a nice password for Dumbledore’s office in mind, tell me, please.
This will include the following pairings: Mainly Peter/Ron, with a short Ron/Remus affair. Some Snape/Ron/Peter. Mention of Hermione/Percy and perhaps Harry/Sirius. And anything you might suggest.
This will include the following warnings: Chan, dub-con, angst, bestiality (animal assisted wanking), hints of D/s and bondage, somnophilia, fluff, perhaps bloodplay... and anything you might suggest. But it's really just sweet and romantic.

THIS STORY STILL NEEDS A BETA! Help me? Please?


He muttered, ‘Mobilicorpus.’ As though invisible strings were tied to Snape’s wrists, neck and knees, he was pulled into a standing position, head still lolling unpleasantly, like a grotesque puppet. He hung a few inches above the ground, his limp feet dangling. Lupin picked up the Invisibility Cloak and tucked it safely into his pocket.
‘And two of us should be chained to this,’ said Black, nudging Pettigrew with his toe. ‘Just to make sure.’
‘I’ll do it,’ said Lupin.
‘And me,’ said Ron savagely, limping forewards.
Black conjured heavy manacles from thin air; soon Pettigrew was upright again, left arm chained to Lupin’s right, right arm to Ron’s left. Ron’s face was set. He seemed to have taken Scabbers’s true identity as a personal insult. Crookshanks leapt lightly off the bed and led the way out of the room, his bottle-brush tail held jauntily high.

They arrived to find the castle nearly deserted and headed upstairs, which proved a challenge for Ron’s injured leg. However, before Harry caught up with him to help, Peeves, who must have been lurking in one of the armour suits, spotted them and broke into screams of “They got him! They got him! Sirius Black’s captured, wheee! They got him!” They barely had time to point out it was Pettigrew and not Black in chains when Professor McGonagall, prepared to admonish them but temporarily shocked into silence, as well as several curious students arrived. Most of the students, upon recognising Black, stood back in the distance, but McGonagall merely got out her wand and strolled forwards.
“Is there any explanation in hell why you – oh my, is that …”
“Yes, Minerva, it’s Peter. He’s the one who betrayed Lily and James, he said so himself.”
“What the hell do you think you’re doing, Remus, running around at this time of … er …”
“It’s okay, Professor, we know about that –“
“No, no, she’s right, the moon will rise soon and –“
“And I see Professor Snape will need to see Madam Pomfrey. And you, too, Mr. Weasley. And Remus, you need to go to your rooms, immediately. Miss Granger, could you fetch the headmaster, please? Password’s ‘bwaak’. He shall meet us in the hospital wing.”
Professor McGonagall’s commanding voice never failed its magic; Professor Lupin freed himself from the shackles, Hermione ran up the stairs on her way to Dumbledore’s office, Harry supported Ron on their way to the hospital wing, and Professor McGonagall walked behind, ordering all students back into their common rooms while keeping a close look not only, Ron noted, on Pettigrew, but on Sirius Black, too.
Madam Pomfrey opened the door to the hospital wing before they even reached it, and they were shushed inside, where Hermione and Professor Dumbledore were already waiting. They launched into their tale eagerly, but Madam Pomfrey insisted Ron should lie down immediately and rest so his leg could heal. He grudgingly gulped down his Dreamless Sleep and drifted off before Dumbledore, Pettigrew, Sirius, Harry and Hermione left for Dumbledore’s office.

When Ron woke the next day, the sun was as its peak and the brooding warmth made him throw his blanket off before even opening his eyes. When he did, he found himself alone in the hospital wing, apart from Snape laying a few beds away. There was lunch on a tray beside his bed, and when he reached over to retrieve it, he noticed the cage on the floor. Inside, as if he’d never been anything else, sat a rat Ron recognised easily. Scabbers showed no signs of being a murdering traitor who blasted apart a whole street; in fact he looked very much asleep. Ron decided to ignore him, for time being, and concentrate on filling the horrible emptiness of his stomach. He was halfway through his meal when Madam Pomfrey entered the room, looking happy to see him awake.
“Good to see you’ve finally woken. I’m afraid your friends are eating in the Great Hall, but I promise they’ve been here all morning. I believe that rat is yours?”
“Er …,” Ron said, not sure on what to make of that question under the circumstances.
“Never mind, the headmaster will speak to you about it. I’ll inform him you’re awake now, if that’s alright by you.”
Ron, who’d just taken a spoonful of [insert lunch here], just nodded, and was alone again a moment later.
He’d nearly finished lunch when the door banged open again to reveal Hermione and Harry, both seemingly tired, but nonetheless excited.
“Hey mate, your leg’s alright?”
Ron grinned at them and gave the matter some thought while shovelling down the rest of his meal. His leg didn’t hurt and surely he had moved it when he’d sat up. He wriggled his toes experimentally, then stretched and bent it.
“Seems okay to me. How’ve you been?”
“Professor Dumbledore kept us up most of the night – see, he had Pettigrew and Black both magically bound and made us retell the whole evening, down to every single word spoken, and asked them for confirmation. I think he questioned them separately later –“
“Yeah, we’ve been here afterwards, and he came in to fetch Snape at about midnight, but Madam Pomfrey raised a fuss about him needing rest, and that he had had enough excitement for the day –“
“That was because he had woken while we were in Dumbledore’s office and had thrown a screaming fit about how we all should be expelled. Madam Pomfrey confessed she’d force-fed him his own calming draughts – lots of them, I gather, look, he’s still asleep.”
“Yeah, so while she was at it, she threw us out with Dumbledore. He only said he believes in Sirius’ innocence, but can’t tell us more until today.”
“So we’ve been waiting for him to tell us what’s going on, but seeing that Pettigrew’s been brought up here during lunch break –“
“I’ve wondered why he wasn’t given over to the dementors.”
“Ah, we’ll be getting to that in a second, Mr. Weasley, ” Dumbledore said from behind them. Even Ron, who was sitting facing the door, hadn’t noticed him entering, and Hermione and Harry turned surprised.
“Sir, where’s Sirius? He’s my godfather, he said he’ll take me in once his name’s cleared.”
Dumbledore summoned a third chair from an empty bedside and sat, sighing gravely.
“I’m afraid that’s more complicated than either of you thought. You see, your father, Sirius and Peter have broken wizard law when becoming animagi unregistered. There is a small chance of Sirius not being punished for that, considering his young age at the time and the twelve years he already spent in prison. But there’s an equal chance of Peter not being punished for that, as he is viewed as a hero, a martyr by most of the wizarding population, and the ministry nowadays isn’t keen on admitting mistakes – not that it ever was – and it’s unlikely there will even be a trial, were we to present Peter as a traitor now.”
Harry looked dumbstruck, while Hermione was frowning thoughtfully.
“But, Sir, wouldn’t Peter being alive at least prove Sirius didn’t kill him?”
“He might still have tried. Without Peter willing to confess, he could always claim he escaped Sirius as a rat and had been hiding from him since, or that he lost his memory due to whatever curse Sirius supposedly used, or that the loss of his friends broke him and that he wished for a quiet, carefree life as a rat. There are numerous reasons for people not to enjoy fame, as Harry surely knows.”
“But we heard him! He as good as confessed what he’d done!”
“The testimony of three thirteen-year-olds will not convince anybody. Professor Lupin, as an old friend of Sirius’ and as a werewolf, will be even less convincing. A street full of eyewitnesses swore they saw Sirius murder Pettigrew. I myself gave evidence to the ministry that Sirius had been the Potters’ Secret-Keeper. We need Peter to confess, but he knows that’d mean a life in Azkaban.”
“Sirius said I could live with him,” Harry said glumly. Ron thought he looked defeated and worn out. Hermione looked down, angry, and he himself had no idea what to make of this. Yesterday had been a major strain on his fragile worldview, and that nothing was sorted out made it worse.
“The protection your mother gave you keeps you safe over summer, Harry. But only as long as you live with your aunt, who is of your mother’s blood. Sirius can’t give you that sort of protection, you couldn’t have moved in with him as long as some part of Voldemort is still alive. I’m afraid all I can offer is for you to spend the last weeks of the holidays with him. If his name gets cleared, other holidays as well.”
“That’s – wow, thank you, Sir, that’s great. I mean, it’s something, I guess.” Harry cheered up considerably, but Ron could tell his mind was on the first weeks of the holidays he would still have to spend with the Dursleys.
“Sir, what’s going to happen with Pettigrew?” Ron asked, glancing at the rat. Perhaps it was less conspicuous to place him here as a rat than somewhere else as a man who was supposed to be dead for quite some time. On the other hand, several students have already seen, if not recognised, Pettigrew when he was brought up the day before. They would have seen Sirius Black, too, and with his picture on the Prophet so frequently over the course of the year, nobody could have failed to notice it was him, friendly chatting with Harry and Professor Lupin and not at all as a prisoner. There would be rumours by now, Ron suspected, and pitied Harry and Hermione for having had breakfast and lunch in the Great Hall where they would have been interrogated by everyone.
“See,” Dumbledore answered, “to get him to cooperate, we need to cooperate with Peter. He’s our prisoner, for now, but the prison will be one of his choice. While Sirius is kept safe at a place only few people know of that’s guarded with everything we could think of –“
“The Fidelius spell?” Harry asked curiously.
“Among others. But he will have to remain hidden. Peter, on the other hand, will be best hidden in plain view. Do you know what I’m asking of you, Mr. Weasley?”
Ron looked at the rat and swallowed.
“I’ll have to take him back?”
“Yes. You can, of course, refuse. He’s trapped in rat form as long as he’s in that cage – it has an unbreakable charm on it and he wouldn’t fit inside as a human. Are you willing to stand guard over him?”
“I guess.” Ron sighed. It wouldn’t be difficult to claim he had found Scabbers again and was keeping him in the cage out of fear of losing him again – after all, it was true, in some ways.
“But do I have to feed him?” he asked, casting an angry glance at the traitor.
“I’m afraid you do. I hope we’ll find a way to clear Sirius’ name soon, but him being alive is absolutely necessary. Also, from what I’ve heard, you’re no murderers, all of you.”
Harry nodded, blushing slightly, which caused Dumbledore to chuckle.
“It’s really nothing to be ashamed of, you know. In fact, it’s very much like your father would have been.”
“Yeah, well … it just seemed such a sure thing, back in the shack – Sirius would be free, Pettigrew punished – and now it’s the moronic ministry ruining all hopes for a real family for me …”
“Now, I think you’ve got yourself a caring godfather, whether you live with him or not. And I will do what I can – in fact, I will talk to Peter again tonight. I might have to borrow him more often than that.”
“No problem.” Ron said. “You can even keep him if you like.”
“I’d rather not, but if you feel you want to give him over to someone else’s responsibility, do so. I know I’m asking a lot of you there, and I can’t thank you enough. Don’t feel compelled to do it, though, it’s your decision.”
“Well – it’ll be inconspicuous, as he’d been my rat for three years now. If you think it’s best, I’ll do it. Though I don’t really understand why he should stay with me.”
“As I said – we have to cooperate with him to get him to cooperate with us. He’s liked his life as a pet so far, and it’s a good way to pressure him – if he makes an attempt to escape, we will lock him away. He won’t like that, so he will try to stay in good graces.”
“He’s in good graces now?” Ron asked angrily.
“Well, no. But he seemed at least willing to talk to us, which is something. We’ll have to see.”
Ron sighed.
“And if you’ll excuse me, I have other things to do.” Dumbledore said, rising from his chair. “If there’s nothing else, I’ll be going now. I’ll retrieve Peter in the late evening, I wager you’ll be back in the dorm then.”
Ron nodded, but Hermione chimed in “Professor? What about Snape, he was there in the shack, wasn’t he? We can prove Pettigrew’s alive to him, can’t we? Wouldn’t his testimony count for something?”
“Yes. Yes, it would, but he wasn’t there for everything, so he couldn’t prove anything. I doubt he’ll be willing to lie to the court in favour of an old enemy of his from school. But if he wakes, send him up to me anyway, if you’re still here then. Poppy seems to have given him his whole own stock of calming draughts.”
A hint of a smile tugged on his lips as he walked out, and Harry, Ron and Hermione grinned openly at each other.
When Dumbledore had left, Harry tiptoed over to Snape’s bed, stood there for a while gazing at his sleeping professor, and came back, sniggering.
“I’ve never seen him so calm. He breathes so deeply, you’d think he died. I wonder how his pulse goes? One beat per minute?”
Ron, feeling particularly daring, stood up, trying out his leg.
“Ron!” Hermione admonished him.
“Oh, just let me see.” He went to Snape quietly, Harry at his heels. Hermione followed, trying to glare them into behaving.
Snape lay on his back, his arms at his sides, perfectly symmetric. Ron had never seen someone sleep like that, but what had he expected from Snape? The man never let his guard down. It was therefore strange that his expression was so extraordinarily peaceful. From a certain angle, one could even call it a smile. It took Ron a while to confirm that Snape was, indeed, breathing slowly, or breathing at all. He tried counting the seconds between two breaths.
“About 80! 82, but I miscounted once. He takes 80 seconds for one breath. I don’t think anything would wake him up now.”
“The fuss Madam Pomfrey will raise when she comes in again certainly will.” Hermione said pertly.
“Yeah, well,” Ron nodded, but still kept his eyes on his teacher. Harry wasn’t really serious, he knew, but if taking the pulse of Hogwarts’ most feared Professor wasn’t a challenge, nothing was. And the only challenges Ron could resist took place in the classroom.
He reached out, his movements slow as if approaching a shying animal. He kept his eyes on the man’s calm face until his hand reached the bed, only then looking at what he was doing. Snape’s hands were thin, but graceful, Ron knew how precise they measured and chopped ingredients. The long, lean body next to the hand was finely muscled and thin as well, not skinny like Harry was, but healthily thin. This wasn’t the body of a growing boy, it was a grown man’s. Ron’s fingers skimmed over the cool, dry skin, searching for a pulse, but the moment he realized he was touching a part of this body, a man’s body, Snape’s body, he couldn’t concentrate anymore. His quickened breath and pulse were signs of fear, he told himself. Excitement and fear of being caught touching a teacher. His growing erection … that was insanity. Right.
“Can’t find a pulse,” he whispered to Harry to divert from his own shock. “Hopefully, he’s dead, or at least, out cold for a long time.” He walked back to his bed carefully, the other two following him. He didn’t dare to think about what just happened with him. Of course, his cock sprang to life in strange situations, even more so when he hadn’t wanked in a while. It even did it in the presence of others, but never because of others.
“Dude, that was bravery. Wouldn’t have done it!” Harry grinned. Ron beamed at the praise, but Hermione was disapproving.
“You know it’s not polite to fondle sleeping people!” she said sternly.
Ron’s face grew hot. “I didn’t fondle him!”
“Still. What if Madam Pomfrey had come in?”
As if on cue, the door to the hospital wing opened and Madam Pomfrey hustled in, pausing shortly at Snape’s bed, then moving on to Ron, where the three of them had stopped talking.
“Still asleep? Oh, well, just for the better. Mr. Weasley, how does your leg feel?”
“No problems there. Can I leave?” He moved his leg a bit to show everything felt just normal.
“That’s the other leg. Don’t think you could fool me. If you can’t move it yet, that’s alright, but please, say so.”
“Really? I thought it was left … no, right … no – really, they’re both completely okay. He tried to get up to show her, but she was having none of it.
“Stay in bed! You can move it, if that’s okay, but you’ll stay until dinner, at least. And you won’t leave the bed until then!”
“And if I need the loo?”
“Then you may, but you’ll call me so I can watch over you on the way. Is that clear?”
Ron nodded numbly. Madam Pomfrey still looked at him expectantly, so he said, “Yes, that’s clear,” which seemed to satisfy her. She checked on Snape again and then went to one of the adjoining rooms. Ron turned to his friends.
“As I’ll have to stay here several more hours, you two could do me a favour.”
“’Course we’ll stay with you, mate” Harry said readily.
“Are you insane? I won’t accept any excuse for why you can’t use the Hogsmeade weekend for getting me loads of chocolate frogs from Honeydukes! And something from Zonko’s to annoy Snape with wouldn’t be amiss, either.”
Harry got up excitedly, already promising to get him everything he saw in Hogsmeade, when Hermione caught him by the sleeve.
“You’ve still got no permission to visit Hogsmeade, Harry.”
“But – there’s no danger from escaped mass murderers anymore! They can’t lock me in!”
“Then go ask Dumbledore, or Professor McGonagall. But you do know you need the permission from a parent or … Merlin, it might just be possible …”
Harry knew in an instant what she was talking about.
“Sirius! I’ll go ask Dumbledore about it … Sirius’ permission should do!”
And they went storming off, leaving a bemused Ron.
Now that he was alone, he thought about his reaction to … earlier. Surely, he didn’t like Snape. It must have been his teenage hormones, torturing him in a wholly inappropriate moment. It was just a random occurrence. Maybe it was normal to get hard from nothing. Maybe it was the new and disturbing closeness of touching someone who was asleep.
Or maybe, just maybe, he had a thing for older men.