Disturbed

Title: Disturbed
Author: K8BNimble
Pairing: Severus/Harry, Severus/Ginny, Harry/Ginny, Harry/Oliver?, Ginny/Oliver?, Harry/Ron?, Ginny/Ron?
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: Approx 16,300 (for entire story)
Warnings: Highlight to view: Crack fic! Spanking, role-playing, toys, rimming, light BDSM, dub-con related to Polyjuice. Others mentioned in passing: water sports, blood play, fisting, cutting, burning, breath play.
Theme: Quest
Prompt: What’s love got to do with it
Summary: Severus Snape is a Disturbed man. That’s Disturbed with a big ‘D’ and he’s okay with that. Surprisingly, he learns the Potters might be equally disturbed when revenge doesn’t quite work out the way he planned.

A/N: This was my entry for the 2010 Severus Sighs fest and all the participants and entries were wonderful. Thanks so much for your lovely comments!

There are a lot of warnings- but most are not described in detail. This is tilted towards Snarry rather than Severus/Ginny, but yes, there is HET! Kind of. Also, thanks to my patient sister for betaing even though these pairings are not to her taste. I owe her a Saiyuki or Vampire Knight slash story now. And a huge thanks for a last minute beta by RaeWhit!

Disturbed

Severus Snape was a disturbed man.

Not just disturbed as in something was mildly irritating him at that moment, but ‘Disturbed’ with a Big 'D'. He knew it was well. Normally being ‘Disturbed’ didn’t bother him. He’d been a Death Eater and one didn’t become a minion of the Dark Lord unless you were disturbed in some way. Really, how sane could you be for following a man who spouted ‘pureblood ideals’ yet looked like a giant Anaconda?

And he taught…children. Children, by nature, were disturbing. Severus shuddered at the memories of facing snotty-nosed urchins for years on end. If he hadn’t believed in hell before, he certainly thought he knew what it would be like now.

Also, he’d been in love (lust?) with a dead woman for over twenty years. If that wasn’t disturbing, then ‘disturb’ did not mean what he thought it meant. Not only that, he’d had many wet dreams regarding his arch rivals over the years as well. Of course his wet dreams concerned pounding senior Potter’s ass while Sirius Black begged to be allowed to lick up the ‘remains’. Yes, Severus Snape had always known he’d been disturbed.

That was the past. He’d learned to live with his ‘disturbations’ as called them. But his equilibrium had been shaken recently to whole new levels that if there had been a lift for ‘Disturbia’, ‘Normal’ wouldn’t be a floor he could access with even a special key.

For seventeen years, he’d been kept in a stasis coma in the ’German Wendenhall Institute for the Just Dead and Mostly Dead’. Seemed as if his former colleagues had ‘rescued’ him from the Shrieking Shack just after the last battle and then dumped him off like an injured crup run over by a thestral-drawn carriage. He assumed that whoever his rescuers were, they'd chosen such an obscure and shady institution because St. Mungo’s couldn’t really cure someone who was ‘mostly dead’. Of course, his former comrades also didn’t want to be saddled with bills so they left him outside on the doorstep of the Institute. He’d have passed on to the great beyond right there on that step if Nurse ‘Rachet’ hadn’t been getting a quickie from Dr. Limbesco (or Dr. ‘LimpBiscuit’ as Snape thought of him) in the utility closet near the door. He had been discovered when she fled the closet after an apparently lackluster tryst when her shift ended, and tripped directly over Severus’ prone body.

Severus wondered if it had been Lucius that had saved him. Although, if he had, the golden Barby-rella of Death Eater Central would have expected payment in the form of never-ending youth-enhancing beauty potions by now. At the very least, he’d have demanded pedicures and foot massages for life from Snape. As cruel as he was, Lucius always did like having his feet pampered.

Whoever it was that had saved him, hadn’t saved Voldemort. Not that Severus blamed them. They probably never even thought to try to save him. The vainglorious bastard had died in a crowd full of enemies. No one had really wanted him back the first time, so Snape wasn’t surprised that no one bothered to attempt it again. To be honest, during the past year Voldemort had developed this weird reptilian scent and taken to eating whole eggs which caused severe flatulence. Death Eater meetings were troubling enough without trying not to giggle or gag every time the Dark Lord farted. ‘Inflamare’ became a precarious spell to attempt if you stood too near the man. No, Voldemort was not sweet-smelling by the end. They all loathed the times when they had to service him. He still chuckled at the image of Bellatrix’s hair becoming singed when she was, literally, kissing his ass. Snape had managed to get out of it for years by becoming overly thin and greasy. Voldemort may have been disgusting to look at, but he still preferred his ‘toys’ to be somewhat pleasant-looking. Severus had worked hard to maintain his scrawny, greasy self back then. He was relieved he was back to his ‘real’ self. The yellowing, crooked teeth were the worst part of the old glamour.

So the images of Nurse ‘Rachet’ and Dr. ‘Limpbiscuit’ zipping his pants were the last images he remembered before passing out. He had then awoken many years later to Dr. Bizen Wiggleshearth’s pinched and wrinkled face after she’d finally developed the antidote to Nagini’s poison.

Of course it was seventeen years wasted, as if they had just looked in Snape’s robe pockets, they would have found a vial clearly marked ‘ANTIDOTE FOR NAGINI’S BITE’. He’d labeled it that way on the off-chance Potter found him. Even that dunderhead could have figured it out. How a whole staff of medical wizarding professionals missed that was beyond him. It would have saved oodles of time, loads of trouble and several weird side effects.

The side effects were why, three years later, Dr. Wiggleshearth was still an unknown and no one in the wizarding world (in the UK at least) knew Snape was alive and currently conscious. It had taken three months to stop clucking like a chicken after every third sentence, eight months to get the tail removed, thirteen months to finally remove the Dark Mark that had evolved into looking like two rabbits humping instead of a skull and snake, and two years to figure out how to switch between English and Swedish on purpose rather than at random. He'd never even known Swedish before his coma. He sighed at the ridiculousness of it. He could have at least awoken to find he had acquired a foreign language skill that might be relatively useful in his new life. French, for example, or possibly Chinese. No, he now knew a language that was about as useful as Pig Latin or LOLCATspeak to him personally.

During the three years he was recovering, Snape had caught up to what had been going on in the wizarding world and had despaired. It was still filled with little deviously idiotic conniving kooks, or ‘Little D.I.C.K.s’ as he had eventually shortened it to. He’d developed an odd habit of acronyming everything since awakening. He wondered if that too was a side effect of Wiggleshearth’s miracle poison..er… potion.

And Harry Potter, Bane of Professor Snape’s Hogwarts years, graced the Daily Prophet more often than not. Severus was sick of seeing the smug moron’s bright shiny smile after he’d either:

a) Rescued yet another damsel, precocious child, or adorable, cuddly crup (take your pick) from some dastardly deviant. Hurray for Auror Potter!!
or
b) Attended some gala charity ball that rescued precocious orphaned children or adorable, cuddly crups accompanied by his overly cutesy-pukesy red-headed Weasley girl. Hurray for Philanthropist Potter!!
or
c) Engaging in a pick-up Quidditch Tournament and winning for England with his vacuous children looking on. God Save the Queen and all that rot… Hurray for former Quidditch Star Potter!!

God help them all since Potter and Weasley had procreated - together.

He thought he’d be ill.

Of course that didn’t stop him from staring at all those lovely color photos of Potter in those tight Quidditch pants. The boy had become a man and quite a handsome man at that. Firm, strong thighs, broad sculpted chest, chiseled cheekbones and those ever-famous green eyes with lashes longer than Snape’s hair.

He almost came on the paper when they had published the ‘Swimsuit Edition’ of Quidditch Weekly that had famous witches and wizards modeling the latest wizarding swimwear fashion for charity. As if it was remotely practical to ride a broom in a thong. Or, as if anyone wanted to have swimwear that suddenly sprouted polka dots when they sneezed. Perhaps swimwear that sprouted water wings would have been a useful wizarding development, but the wizarding world was not known for its practicality.

Potter had obviously been waxed for the photo shoot and oiled up to accentuate the shape of his muscles. Having his lovely wife posing with him didn’t bother Snape at all. She too had grown up into a beautiful, if dull, creature. She almost resembled his Lily, just a lot more vacuous.

Snape had stolen all his neighbors’ editions off their owls and then complained to the subscriptions department that his issue never arrived. He also surreptitiously bought several copies as well from SevenHeaven’s Wizards Tiny-Shoppes by borrowing random hair and Polyjuicing into various wizards. He still chuckled over the surprised, and slightly disgusted, look on the clerk’s face at seeing Aberforth Dumbledore drooling over the images of Potter and Bride of Potterstein as he purchased a good five copies of the magazine.

Of course, he never admitted to himself he was becoming obsessed with the Potter family. He denied his obsession every time he ruined yet another copy by jerking off on it.

And that was another reason he was disturbed. They were James and Lily all over again. Truth be told, Harry was much better-looking than James, but seeing them together made Snape’s blood boil and his cock hard. He’d always wanted to fuck the older Potter over regarding the loss of Lily, but now he just wanted to fuck the younger one.

Disturbing.

He wanted Lily back. He remembered giving up several precious memories to Potter and he wanted them returned. Maybe having them again would displace the disturbing thoughts of Harry and Ginny Potter. He could then go and live in his illusory world where Lily had chosen him.

So ten months ago he decided he’d get them back. He liked his mostly quiet and anonymous life, so no way in hell would he approach Potter directly. He would find a more discreet way of getting them returned.

He began his quest to regain his memories by stalking Ginny Weasley. He needed some of her hair. It was easy enough. Polyjuiced as a woman, he followed her into a beauty salon when she was getting her hair cut. Before the beautician could ‘Evanesco’ the hair, as was standard in wizarding salons to avoid just what Snape was doing, Snape silently triggered a fire alarm. He ‘Accioed’ her hair from the floor and left with all the other customers and employees with a handful of it in his pocket.

He had also paid close attention to her attire. Being the ‘First Lady of Fashion’ as Vogue – Wizarding Edition proclaimed, her clothes were from the most current collections, therefore it was easy for Snape to choose a couple of outfits exactly like hers. The witches in Madam Malkin’s weren’t even surprised when ‘Eileen Duchess’, a witch visiting from overseas, asked to have the same types of robes as Ginny Weasley-Potter. Seemed there really was a Weaselette fan club and it was common for high-society woman to emulate the irritating bint. Of course, it did require the blatant use of ‘Obliviate’ on the store clerks as he left without paying.

His plan began taking shape when he confirmed she was busy at a luncheon one day. He Polyjuiced into the slender redhead and went off in search of her husband, trying not to totter on the ridiculous heels she liked to wear. Considering how short her husband was, he wondered why she did it. Maybe she liked to dominate him. Picturing the red-head spanking Mr. Perfect Teeth as he licked her stiletto thigh-high leather boots made Snape oddly cheerful. After stumbling a few times, he finally ended up putting a stabilizing charm on himself so he could walk as confidently as Ginny did.

He found Harry at lunch, sitting alone. Snape thought that was odd. How could the Hero of the Wizarding World be left alone for one moment? Potter must be pining away from loneliness.

“May I join you?” Snape/Ginny said as he/she approached the table.

“Ginny! What are you doing here? I thought you had plans.” Harry stood up and held out a chair for her. ‘How disgustingly chivalrous,’ Snape thought.

“I do. I thought the luncheon was at twelve, but silly me, it’s for one,” he said in a falsely high voice.

“Are you coming down with a cold, dear?” Harry asked, seemingly concerned. “You sound a bit raspy.”

“I’m sure it’s nothing. I was, uh, in an old book store. Must be the dust.” Snape/Ginny improvised as he coughed lightly.

“What were you doing in a book store?” Harry asked, seemingly perplexed.

“I do read, Harry,” Snape/Ginny said. She arched an uncharacteristic brow at him.

“Really? When? I don’t think I’ve ever,” Harry began, then stopped as he registered his wife’s raised eyebrow raise even higher, against all known laws of physics. He looked at her oddly.

“Fine, fine it wasn’t for me. I was…looking for a gift,” Snape/Ginny improvised, cursing the Weaselette’s continued lack of higher learning.

“Oh, for who? I haven’t forgotten anyone’s birthday, have I?” Harry asked, slurping another big spoonful of beef vegetable soup. A little dribble spilled down over his robes. ‘What a slob’, Snape thought.

Without thinking, he reached over and wiped the soup from Harry’s chin. Harry jerked back in surprise and looked at her/him quizzically.

“Sorry. Must be used to doing it for the children.” Snape/Ginny attempted to smile as he covered his actions.

Harry furrowed his brows. “Are you feeling okay? You aren’t acting like yourself.”

‘Damn…I should have paid closer attention to how they acted together!’ Snape thought. ‘I’ll just cut to the chase.’

“Well, maybe I am feeling a bit under the weather. I’m sure it will pass soon. Anyways, so I was looking around the store for a gift for, um, a woman in my club.” Snape hoped it was specific enough and Harry wouldn’t ask which club. Seeing Harry nod as he slurped another spoonful, he continued thanking his luck, “And I stumbled across a book about the Dark Lord and the Battle of Hogwarts.” Snape knew there were probably a million pulp books put out about it. No matter what crap was inside those books, anything about those events would make a publisher millions.

He’d seen Rita Skeeter’s Giants on the Dark Side, a tell-all book about why the giants really joined Voldemort. “Wizards have never respected us. Always acted like we’re nothing.” Whine, whine whine… The real reason wizards didn’t want giants around was they tended to leave large dumps of shite near wizarding Villages. The warm summer months really stunk when a gaggle of giants lived nearby.

“Well, this woman loves history and she’s done so much for the club, I wondered if I might be able to give her something really special.” He attempted to bat his lashes at Harry but only succeeded in blinking an eyelash into his eye. Fortunately the daft boy was paying him no real attention while he slurped.

“You want me to sign it, then?” Harry said with a weary tone to his voice as he lowered his soup spoon.

‘Arrogant little prick. Why did Potter think the whole world wanted…’

“Excuse me, sir,” a little boy’s voiced squeaked up from beside their table. Snape looked over to see a rather heavyset woman with beady eyes and frizzy hair standing with a small child of about five or nine. Snape didn’t know. Until they turned eleven and made his life hell, he had never paid attention to children. The carpet-critter stared at Potter with wide, watery eyes.

“Are you Harry Potter, sir?” the little voice squeaked out.

Harry sat up and rolled his eyes at Snape/Ginny, and Snape thought he was about to witness Harry erupt in annoyance. Instead, the man eyed the woman first but smiled at the young boy after wiping his mouth with his napkin. At least it wasn’t his sleeve as Snape had fully expected.

“Yes, I am. Can I help you, young man?” Harry asked.

“I’m so pleased to meet you, sir! Could you sign this?” And the young boy held out a stuffed ‘Harry Potter’ doll that had seen cleaner days.

And that was why Potter thought that. Everyone did want his autograph. ‘Disgusting,’ Snape thought.

The doll had obviously been drooled on and squeezed tightly. A bit of cotton stuffing was peeking out of the belly. Severus wondered briefly if it was anatomically correct under the robes. Although, being a stuffed doll, odds were there were no genitalia present. ‘That may actually be anatomically correct,’ he chuckled to himself, given the so-far lackluster response Harry had at his ‘wife’s’ presence.

“Of course. What’s your name?” Harry asked politely, breaking Severus out of his ruminations about Potter’s anatomy.

“Billy. I’m four.” The runny-nosed cherub grinned at Harry, delighted. The woman stepped in. “He’s such a big fan of yours, Mr. Potter. We adopted him from Potter’s Grove Orphanage two years ago and have told him how it was all because of you that we’re a family now.”

At that, Harry absolutely beamed. Snape was stunned by his radiance. “Really, Mrs..?” Harry paused, waiting for her to fill in the blank.

“Mrs. Diana Friggsby,” she said as she held out a hand.

Harry stood to shake her hand warmly and then knelt down to meet Billy face to face. “I’m so pleased to meet you, Billy.”

Severus realized that the man truly was and it annoyed him. Clearly, Potter was actually pleased that his good works helped someone. How grating such goodness was.

Snape/Ginny leaned back and just watched as the three talked while Harry signed the doll and talked to Mrs. Friggsby about how wonderful she was for opening her home to an orphaned child.

‘ORPHANED CHILDREN? How banal could one be?!’ Severus mused.

Harry then turned and asked Ginny to take a photo of them. Snape almost snarled but instead plastered a smile on his/her face. “Of course, Darling.”

After several “cheeses”, Harry reached into his pocket and pulled out a card. “I’d really like to talk to you again, Mrs. Friggsby.”

They left and Harry sat back down. “And that, Ginny, is why I would like to adopt too,” he said quietly.

“But you already have three children,” Snape/Ginny gasped without thinking.

“WE already have three children,” Harry corrected. “I know you don’t want any more of your own. I agree. But we have plenty of time, love and money to open our home to other children.”

Snape glanced at his watch. He only had another fifteen minutes before the potion wore off. “Fine, fine, whatever,” he said hurriedly to get to the next topic. ‘How perfectly saintly could Potter get?’ he thought, irritably.

“Really?” Harry leapt for the table and pulled her on her feet and hugged Snape/Ginny fiercely. “You won’t regret it. You’ll see. You’ll love them just as much. Really!” He stepped back a bit. “What made you change your mind?” he asked.

‘I don’t have time for this foolishness.’ Snape was losing patience.

“We’ll talk about it tonight. I need to get to my luncheon. But about that gift?” Snape/Ginny prompted.

“Oh, right. Where’s the book? I’ll sign it,” Harry said in an acquiescing tone.

“Oh no, I didn’t want that. You see, she’s actually a big fan of Snape’s.” Harry stared at her like she had just claimed eating dragon dung was a tasty treat. “I know. Weird, isn’t it. Obviously, she never had him as a teacher,” Severus tried to explain while being annoyed that Potter thought Snape was unworthy of having fans. Maybe there were some out there. Maybe. Hiding under a rock, using invisibility and ‘Forget-Me’ spells, hoping no one would notice their perversions. Severus could hope that someone remembered him fondly, but he doubted it.

“Anyways, I was wondering if you weren’t doing anything with those memories you have of Snape’s, maybe I could…” Snape/Ginny trailed off as he saw Harry’s enthusiasm suddenly dwindle to nothing and a red bloom appeared on his face.

“Had, Ginny had,” Harry said flatly through tight lips. Parts of his face had paled and other parts flushed red with obvious anger. Snape thought he looked a bit like a barber pole and wondered about the cause.

“What do you mean, my dear?” Snape/Ginny blinked at him with what Snape hoped was an appropriately vacuous look.

“I got rid of them. They’re gone.” Harry sat back and crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes.

“What do you mean, ‘you got rid of them’?” Snape’s voice began to quiver in anger as well. “Snape gave them to you. They were sacrosanct.”

“Sacrosanct?! You were the one who told me to throw them in the loo! You and that dufus marriage counselor.”

“Counselor?” Snape/Ginny asked in shock. “What c…um…The memories are gone? Flushed down the loo?” his/her voice hitting the highest soprano tone Severus had ever hit.

“Yes. Remember Dr. ‘The Man-Must-Always-Be Wrong’ Counselor you picked. You complained about how obsessed I was with those memories even though they were the only memories of my mother that I ever had. He insisted I ditch them at your request. And I did. I did everything ‘Dr. Counselor Man’ asked of me. But have you? I also recall you were supposed to compromise as well. When are you going to start on your side of the compromise? When will you stop spending money like I’m the Gringotts bank? When will you start coming to the kids’ school events? And when, exactly, will I be getting sex again, Ginny?” Harry had turned beet red during this diatribe.

“Well, not tonight, that’s for sure if you’re going to act like this!” Snape/Ginny huffed in his/her raspy, squeaky voice. Snape was trying to frantically sort through what he was learning.

Harry took a deep breath. “I’m sorry, Gin. Here you finally decided to agree to let us adopt and I push you for sex. It was out of line. It’s just, I miss you. I miss ‘us’. We used to laugh and have fun. We used to enjoy our time together. I know things have gotten a little stale, but I’m willing to try some new things if you just tell me what you want.”

“Yes, well. Perhaps, we shouldn’t be discussing this in a public forum,” Snape/Ginny said as he looked around and noted every other tongue had stopped. Granted there were only five other people, but still, they were five pairs of very interested ears.

“Fuck,” Harry whispered. “That will be in tomorrow’s paper.”

Snape realized that in fact it would. That was not a good thing. If it was in the paper, they would quickly figure out that Snape wasn’t Ginny at all.

“I need a moment. I’m going to the Witches Room,” Snape/Ginny said and quickly got up to leave.

After he ducked into the room, he poked his wand out of the door and cast a ‘Petrificus Totalus’ on the whole room. And, one by one, went to each person to ‘Obliviate’ the last few minutes of that conversation. Lockhart was an amateur with Memory Charms compared to Severus.

Once he approached Harry, Severus looked down at him frozen in his seat. “Some Auror you are, Potter,” he whispered disgustedly and Obliviated the last half hour from him. He wondered if Harry would ever get a call from Mrs. Friggsby. He wouldn’t remember ever meeting her or little Billy. Wonder how Wonderboy’s number one fan would like that?

Potter was lucky he was left alive at all. Without thinking, Severus had grabbed Potter’s head and slammed it into the table in anger. He had managed to rip some hair out of his head as well. The man would have one hell of a headache when he moved again. Snape didn’t care. He was fuming as he Apparated away. “Those idiots flushed my memories away. Do they understand nothing about how important memories are?” he muttered to himself repeatedly in a fury as he sped out of the restaurant and down the street until he could Apparate away.

As he stewed, he began to desire revenge. Potter was so pussy-whipped that he cow-towed to that wench’s desires even though he knew it was the wrong thing to do. It didn’t matter to Snape that Harry had seemed angry about it. The fact was, Potter had thrown out something considered sacred in the wizarding world: a person’s memory. And he did it all to keep that harpy happy. Of course, Severus missed the irony that he had just Obliviated six peoples’ memories himself.

‘And Ginny. Little dominating bitch. They’ll get theirs,’ Snape thought heatedly. Snape stopped and suddenly looked down at the hair in his hands and an idea formed. A very Disturbing idea.

‘Having a little marriage trouble, are we? A little disappointing in the sack, are we? Maybe I’ll spice things up for them.’ Snape grinned at the deliciously depraved images coming at him. ‘And get a little something for my troubles as well. They’ve fucked me over. I think it’s time to return the favor.’

He looked forward to initiating more and more depraved acts as he Polyjuiced into one or the other until one finally left the other in disgust. And, as a former Death Eater, he knew of depraved sexual acts to would curl the very fine red hair on Ginny’s head and make the curly little pubes on Potter straighten out. Oh, the things he’d like to do to both the redhead that looked like his Lily and the Boy-Who-Lived and his finely taut and very fuckable ass.

He wondered how long before their marriage shattered from the upcoming perversions he planned. He couldn’t wait to see their precious little family break apart.

First though, he had to develop a Polyjuice Potion that lasted longer than one hour and changed the timbre of his voice as well. He didn’t care that no one had improved upon the Polyjuice Potion in more than one hundred years. He was motivated to do it and he was a Potions Master.


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