Rubbish.

The next day passed in stiff, uncomfortable silence, each of them trying to pretend nothing had happened the night before. Harry found himself staring at Snape, and as the hours wore on, he grew angrier and angrier at the calm, neutral manner with which his guardian was treating him. He'd never seen the man express any emotion, and even last night he'd sounded completely calm until he'd started cumming. The thought of that drew a blush to Harry's cheeks as he poked his lunch, but the memory of Snape's following words sent the same icy stab through his heart. 'Fuck him. I'll make him show some sort of emotion if it kills me.'


Harry's head rose and he purred suddenly, his voice laced with an almost cruel sort of sensuality. "Sleep well, Snivellus? Judging by the way you shook and cried my name, I'd say you hadn't cum in a very long time, so you probably slept like a baby, didn't you?" He smiled coldly when Snape's head jerked up, but the brief flash of emotion that crossed his face was gone before he could read it and he wasn't the least bit satisfied by it. "Mr. Potter, I suggest you stop now before you get yourself in trouble." Snape could feel his heart beating rapidly, but he locked away his guilt and, shamefully, the flicker of arousal, keeping them tightly constricted in his chest so they wouldn't be revealed in his face or voice.


"Oh, making threats now, are we, Snivellus? What are you going to do, curse me? Been there, done that. How about you get creative and tie me to the bed...wait, you did that, too, didn't you? Hmmm...Let's see...You haven't tried caning me yet, or just smacking me about like a bitch. Bet you'd love to try that on me, wouldn't you? Oh! I know, you could..." He never got a chance to finish before Snape's hand lashed out and back-handed him across the face, hitting him hard enough to knock him out of his chair and to the floor. "Hold your tongue, Mr. Potter." Harry stared up at the cool face of his guardian as the blackest well of his hate rose and overtook him. "You like seeing me bleed. Seeing me humiliated and hurt. ADMIT IT!"


This time he clearly saw the emotion overcome his guardian, trouble was that he couldn't tell what it was, and then he was in a world of pain so brutal it seemed to be killing him and bringing him back to life over and over again. "Basium Cariosus!" Snape drew closer to his writhing charge until he could crouch beside him, speaking softly. "The Carrion Kiss is my version of Avada Kedavra, Harry. You will not die, you will not go mad, but you will experience death again and again, until you beg for the real thing. Shall I continue, Mr. Potter? Or will you beg me to punish you for your misdeeds?" Harry sobbed breathlessly, arms curled against his chest, hands clawing at his shirt, but he heard every word distinctly. What horrified him the most was that a part of him still wanted to cry something caustic, wanted Snape to become so furious that he did use the Killing Curse. The better part of him was terrified by that hard, hateful portion of himself and he eventually managed to scream. "Please! Please, punish me! Please, Severus!"


The end of the pain was immediate, and yet it left him feeling weak and sick, his body was too limp to move and he was filled with a grief he couldn't understand. "Rennervate." Strength flooded back into him at Snape's whispered incantation and he sat up, tears still streaming from his eyes, though he couldn't understand why. "Stand and go into the bedroom, I will be there shortly." Harry nodded without a word and walked back into the bedroom, unsure if he should strip or not, but since he hadn't been told to, he just stood in the center of the room and stared at his feet. Whenever he tried to touch that terrible loss within, he couldn't get close to it, so he eventually ignored it. 'Probably just a side-effect of Snape's sadistic spell.'


~~:~~


He stepped into his office and closed the door behind him gently, tightening his grip upon the emotions that threatened to overtake him as he strode to the large cabinet at one side of the room, opening it with a grimace. He took out a set of soft black gloves and a matching whip, feeling sickened just by the touch of them, knowing he was about to do something that would likely haunt him the rest of his life. He licked his lips and pulled on the gloves, then turned and headed back for the door, unable to lift his eyes and look at the sweet face above his mantle, knowing he would see accusation in her beautiful green eyes.


He let the whip uncoil as he walked into the bedroom, pausing in the doorway when he spotted Harry standing in the middle of the room, looking down. "Strip and stand at the end of your bed with your back to the room." He purposefully made his voice as cutting as he could, knowing it would be better, easier for Harry if there was no gentleness before the whip. Snape forced himself to watch his ward strip, bringing a sneer up to his mouth when Harry shot a nervous look up at him, though deep inside his heart felt such a bitter ache for the slender, almost delicate boy. 'Just a child. A child who had to go through too much before he was ready. And now, with it all over, here I am making things worse.'


The desire to wrap his arms around his boy was almost strong enough to propel him forward, but he fought it off and locked it away, the prison of his heart filled with emotions he could never show. When Harry moved into position, he flicked his wand and ropes appeared to bind the slim wrists and ankles to the bedposts and legs, pulling Harry into a human X. The boy whimpered softly, but said nothing, and somehow this was worse...far worse than hearing him shout and curse. Snape's heart gave a terrible clench and he felt the bars of all those prison cells creak, but they did not bend or break.


"I see now that I have been too easy on you. I've let you disrespect me, disobey me and done precious little to correct you. That stops now, Mr. Potter. There will be no more belts, no more adolescent spankings, because you are an adult, and from now on, you will take adult punishment for your actions." He moved closer and slid a leather-clad hand over one bird-wing shoulder blade, whispering harshly. "I am not your friend, Mr. Potter. I am your guardian, the one who is meant to control you until you can learn to control yourself. The next time you get the idea that we can be friends, you remember the way you felt while I was whipping you. Remember my laughter at your cries."


He felt the tremble in the young body and heard the low moan of horror, but focused himself upon feeling nothing, chains wrapping themselves around his soul to keep it locked as he slid his hand lower and cruelly squeezed Harry's ass, hissing. "You are lucky that I am not yet angry enough to fuck your ass until you scream for me, Mr. Potter. But, your luck will not last if you continue to defy me." He stepped back then, nausea roiling in his stomach, but he swallowed that back and stepped aside, listening to the frightened sobs rising from Harry's throat.


He heard the first crack, the first scream and the first chuckle rise from his own throat, but after that it was as if his mind refused to accept what he was doing, and he blanked out. By the time he returned to himself, Harry had fallen silent and blood stained the floor from multiple lacerations across the boy's smooth skin. They striped his back, buttocks and thighs, weeping amidst the bright red of the skin that hadn't been cut by the strike of the whip, and the sight of them made Snape want to weep. He dropped the whip and stepped forward, terrified he had killed the boy, but then he heard the heavy, erratic breathing of one who had passed out, exhaling a sigh of relief.


He removed the bonds with a flick of his wand and carefully guided Harry's body forward to lay him on his stomach atop the blankets. He ran his wand lovingly across the cuts in his skin, knitting them up before pulling the Asclepios from his pocket and leaning forward to whisper gently. "Wake up, Harry. Just for a moment, so you can drink this." Harry's eyes fluttered open mindlessly and Snape tilted the potion into his mouth, watching him swallow before releasing him. The hazy green eyes closed and he heard Harry murmur. "Thank you." Then he fled the room as if the very devil were chasing him.


~~:~~


He fell to the floor of his office, jerking off the hateful leather gloves with a cry and flinging them away as if they carried some contagious disease. He rolled over on his stomach, shoving his face into the floor and sobbing, the tears finally sprang to his eyes but he hissed at himself, slapping his own face with a sharp crack and they dried instantly. "Don't you fucking cry, you miserable bastard. Don't you fucking dare! You don't deserve to cry, not after what you just did. So, suck it up you ugly fuck and look at her!"


His own voice came out harsh and he trembled, swallowing and lifting his head to look up at Lily's protrait, crawling toward her as more dry, wretched sobs rose from deep in his chest. "Lily...Lily, I'm so sorry....Forgive me..." He threw himself down and knelt before her with his face pressed once more to the thick carpet, shuddering violently. The urge to harm himself rose like a flood and he welcomed it, needing the temporary surcease that physical pain would bring him, thinking of the letter opener on his desk, but he forced it away. "No, you will feel this pain, because you deserve it. Harry didn't get to escape from his pain and neither will you."


His stomach gave a mighty heave and he barely made it to his bathroom in time, once his dry heaves had quieted, he flushed and fell back, jerking when the back of his head cracked hard against the tiled floor, sending swirls of bright light swimming through his head. He found a cowardly part of him praying for unconciousness and scowled, shoving to his feet and stripping off his clothes, tossing them haphazardly over the room as he moved toward the mirror. He stopped before it and stared, flinching back from the sight of himself so shamefully exposed.


His long legs were covered with the same knotwork as his torso, pale and yet muscular, they made the blue-black thatch of groomed hair on his groin that much darker. His length dangled limply, pale and fairly large even in its sleeping state, the skin blessedly unmarked by the scars that covered the rest of his body. 'Not that father wouldn't have minded marking that up, too.' He winced and resisted the urge to cover himself, drawing a deep breath and staring at himself for a good fifteen minutes, until he could feel his skin crawling and the need to hide himself became unbearable. He hurried to pull back on his clothes, whimpering under his breath until he was fully covered and dropped into his office chair, drawing his knees to his chin and pressing his face into them. 'I laughed...I laughed and he bled. And I laughed.'